My name is Abigail Wilder. PR maven extraordinaire. A credit to her industry. A savior to her clients. A razor-tongued blessing to those who employed her, and a curse to those who stood in her way. (This was all printed on my business cards. In so many words.)
But to him, my biggest client, I was Abby. And to me, he was Nick.
Nick keeps me busy with all his stunts and playboy ways. He gets in trouble and it’s my job to bail him out and make everything shine in a positive light. He’s a pain in my ass! Far too wild for my taste. And now the board wants to keep him on a leash until their big merger goes through. They want me to find him a girlfriend. Get someone to tame Nick? Yeah, right. Damn, do I have my hands full.
I wanted to give Nick my standard speech. The ‘fame is a fickle friend’ speech, and tell him to keep his damn head down for once. But such speeches had never really worked on Nick. And to be honest, he was right.
The press did love him. They always had. They probably always would. He was their dream—a man who knew no limits. No boundaries. Every page—an open book.
Over the years, he’d become something of a folk hero. The crown prince of mayhem who couldn’t be tamed. A source of constant entertainment and levity for the masses. But even by celebrity standards, Nick was a rare breed. Because beneath that careless playboy persona, beneath all the money, and mischief, and that unquenchable sense of adventure…he had a genuinely good heart.
It was this ‘good heart’ his father’s company had hired me to promote. To protect. To shine a spotlight on all the good things—half to highlight them, half to keep that same spotlight off everything bad. By protecting his image, I was protecting their shareholders, and thus—doing my not inconsiderable part to contribute to the massive global conglomeration that was his father’s company. The Hunter Corporation. The family’s crowning achievement.
It’s a tough job, but somebody has to keep the gorgeous billionaire in check. And I guess that job belongs to me.