Chapter Seventeen
“Kris, I need to speak with you.” Bobbi’s voice cut through the office bustle and interrupted Kris’s distracted Internet browsing for new updates about Sabrina Winters, an up-and-coming actress and the newest client on Bobbi’s roster.
Kris stifled a sigh. She hated her job more and more every day. She would rather spend her time planning MentHer’s summer gala, but here she was, reading about what Sabrina wore to a nightclub yesterday. The actress’s style wasn’t even that great—her shoes were from last season, and her dress clashed with her skin tone. She needed to fire her stylist ASAP.
Kris pushed back her chair and walked into Bobbi’s office.
“Yes?” Her tone came off imperious instead of accommodating.
Oh, well.
Bobbi examined Kris with sharp eyes. She was an attractive woman, with shiny blond hair and cheekbones that would make a Slavic supermodel jealous, but the tension in her brow and hard set of her mouth made her appear decades older than her thirty-four years. Managing the public images and tempers of Hollywood’s biggest, brightest, and brattiest—especially in the era of social media—wasn’t easy, and it showed.
Still, Bobbi was the best in the business, and Kris admired her. She just didn’t want tobeher. She may be a public relations major, but there was no way in hell she’d go the Hollywood publicity route after she graduated.
“Sabrina Winters has a photoshoot withMode de Viethis weekend,” Bobbi said without preamble. “For a story on rising stars in Hollywood. It’s a huge deal.”
“That’s great.” Why was Bobbi telling her this? Kris pulled press clipsaftershoots.
“I want you to go with her.”
“Go where?”
Bobbi shot her an impatient look. “To the photoshoot.”
Kris was sure she’d heard wrong. Bobbi accompanied her clients to press junkets and photoshoots and red-carpet events. No one else.Ever.
“You wantmeto go with Sabrina toMode de Vie?”she spluttered. “Not you?”
“Believe me, I’d be there if I could.” Bobbi leaned back in her chair and played with her gold Montblanc pen. “But there’s been a last-minute change in my schedule. I’m picking Riley K. up from rehab—I don’t trust anyone else to do it, and those bastards refuse to hold her for an extra day. Last time her agent tried to get her, she gave him the slip and ended up in Tijuana, dancing topless in a bar. The strings I had to pull to keep that out of the press… Anyway,Mode de Viecan’t move the shoot date, either. They need all twelve of the rising stars there, and it’s the only day that works for everyone. Hence, I need someone to go with Sabrina while I deal with Riley.”
“Why me?” The last thing Kris wanted was to babysit an actress barely older than herself.
“You’re strong enough to deal with any outrageous demands, and you’ve been around celebrities before. You’re even friends with some of them.” Bobbi’s glossy red mouth turned up into a smirk. “I’m more concerned for Sabrina than I am for you.”
“Thanks,” Kris said, tone dry. She could imagine how this was going to go down with the rest of the assistants. They already hated her for landing the job through family connections. She didn’t give a shit what they thought of her, but Kris had better things to do with her time than fend off passive-aggressive remarks from Bobbi wannabes.
“I’ll email you the details,” Bobbi said crisply. “This is an important shoot, Kris. I don’t expect a crisis—the magazine knows what it’s doing, and Sabrina is well-behaved. But it’s critical you’re there, on time and on point, in case anything does happen.”
“Don’t worry.” Kris tried to muster up a smidge of enthusiasm. “I’ll be there.”
* * *
“Kris,I need to speak with you.”
Deja vu.
Kris’s father summoned her with the same words Bobbi used earlier when she passed by his study that night. She’d just gotten home from MentHer, where they’d held a college application workshop for the older girls, and was looking forward to a nice long bubble bath and a glass of champagne.
That would have to wait.
“What is it, Daddy?” Kris stepped into her father’s office. Roger liked to have a designated workspace in all his properties, even his ski chalet in Switzerland and holiday villa on the Amalfi Coast, because there was no such thing as a vacation for him. She’d seen him close a business deal while toasting a European prince’s engagement on a yacht in St. Barth’s. “Is everything okay at work?”
Her father rarely summoned her. The last time he’d done so had been when he cut her off over Christmas.
Kris’s skin prickled at the memory.
“It’s fine. Some issues with suppliers in Manila, but that’ll be sorted soon enough.” Roger gestured at the chair across the desk from him. “Sit.”