“Okay, sir. I’ll notify the owners when the house will be vacated, and Mr. Karas as well.”
As much as I hate Karas being kept up-to-date on my movements, I don’t have much choice. At least this gives me the rest of the day to regroup. Notifications on my phone are piling up—something my publicist and her assistant usually handle. But today they’re constant.
I click on my Twitter app to find out what the hell is going on.
Having high numbers of notifications isn’t out of the ordinary these days because everyone seems to have an opinion they want to tweet and mention me in, but rarely do I read them or respond. I’m about to change my mind when I see the first tweet I’m mentioned in.
Trouble in paradise per the creative @GreerOneBadBitchKaras. But at least we know @TheRealCavWestman has a big cock. #CelebGossip #Breakups
What the fuck? It’s the breakups hashtag that pisses me off. Greer and I aren’t done. Not by a long shot. I click on Greer’s Twitter handle and see what she wrote.
Oh, Greer. That naughty, naughty girl. When I track her down, she isn’t going to sit for a week without feeling the sting of my hand on her ass. If she thinks this is the end, she’s in for a rude awakening.
What she doesn’t realize is I already know how big a mistake I made when I walked away from her three years ago, and I’m not going to do it again.
A hand shaking my shoulder wakes me up, and I blink at the harsh light of the interior of the jet. “Wanna sleep.”
“You can sleep when we get where we’re going.”
Groaning, I force myself into a sitting position and immediately regret the decision. My stomach flops violently, and I lunge for the door to the bedroom and the connecting lavatory.
Note to self: Don’t ever puke in a jet again. Ewww.
Creighton waits at the door with a bottle of water and a stack of napkins. “You going to be okay?”
Grabbing both the napkins and the water, I attempt to hide my misery—and shame. I’m a complete and total fuckup.
“I just want my bed.”
Creighton’s expression shifts into something unreadable. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
“What?” I choke out after swallowing down a gulp of water.
“I couldn’t take you back to New York. The paparazzi are going to eat you alive after your little Twitter stunt.”
So I’m being stashed somewhere again. “Where are we?” My brain flips through the possibilities. “Nashville?”
Creighton shakes his head. “No. There are way too many paparazzi in Nashville these days. But you’re close.”
I come up blank. I don’t know any other places in Tennessee.
“Where?”
“Kentucky.”
Kentucky? It might as well be another foreign country for as familiar as I am with it.
“Why?”
“Because we’ve kept up Holly’s grandma’s house and it’s vacant. No one is going to come looking for you here unless you blast out your location to the press.” His expression hardens when he adds, “Which you better not do.”
“I’m sorry, I—”
“Didn’t think before you acted. I’m getting that loud and clear. I’ve also watched stock prices fall by three percent in the last two hours.” Creighton crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re an adult. A professional. When are you going to realize that your actions have consequences? Your money is at stake here too, Greer. You’re losing millions with every stunt you pull.”
“I’m not trying to pull stunts—”
“And yet you are. I don’t know what the hell happened to the sister who was worried more about her job than her social media accounts, but when you find her, let her know I’m waiting for her to make an appearance.”
It’s a low blow, and Creighton knows it.
“Maybe I decided it was time to start living? Maybe I realized that work isn’t the only thing I have to look forward to in life.”
“Then fucking act like a responsible adult. I have a pregnant wife and a multi-billion-dollar empire to run, and I can’t keep chasing after you to clean up your messes.”
Ouch. Another direct hit.
“Look, I’m sorry. This . . . hasn’t been the most normal time in my life. Everything shifted and I can’t keep a grip on it.”
“Then how about you lay off the booze while you’re plotting world domination with Banner. That’d be a start.”
I nod. I have nothing further to say because he’s right. I’ve fucked up royally, and I have no explanation for my actions other than emotional terrorism and alcohol.
“I’m sorry.”
“Come here.” Creighton pulls me in close and hugs me hard. “You’re my baby sister, and I want nothing but the best for you. We’re going to clean this up, and then we’ll find you some decent guy who isn’t going to cheat on you or lie to you. Maybe even someone you can build a life with. I know you’re looking for the same thing I was, Greer. Our childhood was fucked. Our sense of family was completely screwed up. But when you find the right person, that shit all fades away and the future becomes a hell of a lot brighter.”
The idea of my brother finding me a guy straight up terrifies me, but I decide to keep my own counsel on this one. Besides, I don’t want to talk this close to his face because I just puked up a lot of vodka.
“Thank you,” I say instead, aiming my words at his chest. “Consider the stunts done, especially if you can get me to a bed where I can pass out for the rest of my natural-born life.”