The Billionaire's Rock Star - Lori Ryan Page 0,1

like screwing a dead fish, but a nice girl.”

Embarrassment burned a pit in her chest. She’d been in this business a long time and was used to the constant critiquing and judging being in the spotlight brought with it. It was a part of her life the way driving a car was a part of life for most people.

That didn’t mean it stopped hurting.

“I’m sorry, PJ,” Ellis was saying.

“Enough, Ellis,” Lydia snapped. “She doesn’t need you babying her. All we have to do is spin this. Kurt and his girlfriend will come out of this looking shallow and vain while people see you as a victim of their callousness.”

PJ wasn’t sure why being a victim was any better here, but she let Lydia talk. She gave a weak smile and nod to Ellis, knowing Lydia’s biting ways often hurt him.

The woman was intense and could be difficult to deal with, but she was damn good at her job. She took care of everything for all of them on tour, and they couldn’t function without her. They all made concessions because of it.

Ellis and Lydia were both equally as devoted to PJ and her career; they simply acted on that in different ways with their very different personalities.

But, right now PJ couldn’t worry about Ellis’s feelings. Her mind whirled.

She could handle Kurt’s comments. She’d grown a thick skin in this industry, and a few embarrassing words couldn’t do very much to damage her.

But that wasn’t what had her hands shaking and her chest feeling like someone had it in a vice, twisting the breath from her body. No, it was the knowledge that someone had gotten into her private journal that sent PJ’s heart pounding.

Did they have the whole thing? Did they know everything? PJ blinked as she fought back tears. That journal could not get out.

She didn’t listen to the rest of Lydia’s plans as her mind raced back to the last time she’d written in her journal. Two nights ago, and she was absolutely positive she’d put it away when she was finished.

“I’m going back to the hotel,” she said as she handed the iPad to Ellis and grabbed her bag. She didn’t want to face anyone else. She glanced at her phone and saw several missed calls from her parents.

They might be her parents and she knew they loved her, but they’d already dealt with a lot when she was younger. Now this? Hearing about their daughter’s sex life in excruciating detail?

No. She didn’t want to talk to them right now. And, she needed to find out how bad this was. She needed to know if that journalist had the whole journal or just a piece of it.

Her bodyguards, Carl and Jeff, helped her slip out of the building and bundled her into her car. She sank into the welcoming softness of the leather seat and took a deep breath, bracing herself as Carl shut the door.

He would follow in a large SUV while Jeff sat in the front seat with her driver, Moore. Both men were silent as they pulled out of the secured parking garage and onto the city street. They had to know she was in no mood to talk to anyone after the night’s events.

When PJ’s career as one of the youngest country singers in the United States—and then one of the biggest crossover pop singers in the world—took off at the age of fifteen, she’d had a short time when she struggled with alcohol addiction and a spiraling private life, but she’d since cleaned herself up.

Now, most people said she handled the spotlight better than a lot of stars. At twenty-nine, she was better equipped to deal with the pressures than she had been at fifteen.

But, tonight had pushed those boundaries. Before the car had gone two blocks, PJ read her journal words on Facebook posts, in tweets, every site she pulled up on her iPhone. Private clips with personal details about their intimate relationship….

PJ’s hands shook as she pushed the button to engage the privacy panel between the driver’s seat and the passenger area before opening the small Coach bag she carried with her everywhere.

Swiping at her tears, she felt inside the lining of her bag, but she already knew she wouldn’t find it. The USB drive, designed to look like a tube of lipstick, was no longer tucked into the tear in the lining of her bag. It was gone.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the cool