Читать книгу Backstage with Her Ex - Louisa George - Страница 3

She straightened her clothes, then turned slamming face-to-face with Nate.

He stared right back at her, his hand reaching out, palm up in a question. ‘Sasha? Sasha Sweet?’

‘Nathan—’ She started to explain, but suddenly she was grabbed by his security guard, who shouted into a walkie-talkie. ‘Now. Now. The car’s leaving. Go, Nate. You want this one?’

This one? What was she? A toy? A groupie? ‘Wait, no. You’ve got it wrong. I’m not—’

At that same moment, two more security guards burst into the room, grabbed her by the waist and ran her out through the corridor in a blur of clamouring, screaming women tearing at her hair, her clothes. The chant of Nate. Nate. Nate, ringing in her ears.

‘Nathan … Wait—’ Her voice mingled with the rest and got lost. Watching his leather-jacketed back disappear into a blacked-out limousine, she breathed out a sigh of irritation. That was that.

Damn. He was gone. A fleeting almost-reconciliation.

Then she felt someone touch the back of her head and push her into the plush car seat next to him. The door slammed closed.

And with a jerk they eased into the night-time London traffic to the accompaniment of bright flash photography. On the way to who knew where, with the ex she’d dumped and a whole lot of explaining to do.