Read Online Finding It by Leah Marie Brown - Free Book Online Page B

the coveted interview, and all you have to do is give me the tiniest of kisses.”
    “Wha’?” I say, imitating him. “Trade my journalistic integrity for a single story?”
    “Journalistic integrity? Isn’t that an oxymoron?”
    I slant him a withering look.
    He raises his hands in the air. “Kidding. Kidding.”
    Poppy sticks a fresh glass of champagne in front of my face, which is akin to tossing a bucket of water on Mister Bishop Sexy Raine’s smoldering mojo vibes. He’s pretty damned hypnotic with his intellectual mumbo-jumbo and his I’ll-rip-your-clothes-off-with-my-teeth gaze.
    “Here.” She presses the glass into my hand. “You look entirely too serious for this venue.”
    “Thanks.” I toss the champagne back in a single swallow and handing her my empty. “It’s just what I needed.”
    “Okay, California Girl,” Bishop says. “You can have your interview sans kiss.”
    “Really?”
    “Really.” He grins. “Now, fancy a dance?”
    Wait! What? Did Bishop Raine really just ask me to dance? This can’t be happening.
    Bishop stands, pulls me to my feet, dips me low, and plants a big, wet kiss on me. His tongue pushes between my lips, briefly, and I taste lime. The world starts spinning like a Boujis disco ball. I am vaguely aware of a pop, a flash of light, and then Bishop’s tongue withdraws, and I am standing, slack-jawed and wide-eyed.
    “What just happened?”
    “Bishop kissed you,” one of the bobblehead bitches says, her lips curling in a fake smile. “And we hate you.”
    “You hate me?” I blink. “Because Bishop kissed me?”
    I am nonsensical. My world is still spinning, and I don’t know how to make it stop so I can get off. All I can think of is Luc. What he would say if he knew I was in a posh club macking with Bishop freaking Raine.
    “Don’t be ridiculous,” the other bobblehead says. “We don’t hate you because Bishop kissed you; we just hate you.”
    “Shut up, Katrine!” Poppy snaps.
    “We’re just kidding.”
    “Well then, you’ve rather missed the mark, because nobody else is laughing.”
    Poppy pierces each of the twins with a don’t-fuck-with-me-or-I-will-stab-you-with-my-Louboutin-heel stare until they apologize.
    “No worries,” I say, teetering on my new heels.
    “Come on, Vivia,” Poppy says, linking her arm through mine. “Let’s take a walk.”
    We weave our way through the crush of sweaty perfumed bodies, but another of Poppy’s friends intercepts us before we reach the loo.
    “You go on, Vivia,” Poppy says. “I’ll join you in a minute.”
    I leave Poppy near the dance floor and hurry to the loo. I can feel my Dior lip gloss smeared around my mouth, shiny, sticky proof of Bishop Raine’s unexpected oral assault.
    I hear my best friend’s voice in my head.
    “Was he worth the Dior?”
    Yes. Yes, he was.

Chapter 7
    A Right Royal Cock-Up
     
    Text to Stéphanie Moreau:
    OMG! You’ll never guess where I am or what just happened!
     
    Text from Stéphanie Moreau:
    In some swanky hotel in the 7ème, having sexy time with your gorgeous boyfriend?
     
    Text to Stéphanie Moreau:
    No! In the loo at Boujis, a posh London club. Bishop Raine just French kissed me .
     
    My phone rings so loud, I nearly drop it in the toilet. Poison’s “Talk Dirty to Me” echoes in the tiny stall. That’s right, Bret Michaels singing old school hairband rock. Electropop? Whatever. I jab the red circle on my iPhone screen to answer the call.
    “Hello?” I whisper.
    “Why are you still in London? What do you mean you were French kissing Bishop Raine? Where is Jean-Luc? How does he feel about you French kissing some sleazy comedian?”
    Fanny is the most supportive and loyal friend ever. When my ex-fiancé broke off our engagement on the eve of our wedding and got me fired from my job at San Francisco Magazine, Fanny methodically picked up the shards of my shattered life and helped me superglue them back together. She even rode shotgun on my biking