Chapter 22 - The Press Conference From Hell

• The following morning felt like a circus show—and I was sitting in the center of it. Having barely slept no more than a few hours, I dragged myself to the vanity table where two maids were in the frantic process of getting me picture-worthy-ready for the conference.
• I’d hoped that at least some of my disgruntled anger toward James would have faded by now. But no.
• In fact, I was fairly certain that it all intensified the moment I’d been squeezed into a fitted, mid-length dress and my hair was roughly brushed and curled to frame my face. My makeup was applied with perfect precision and before I knew it I was being escorted out the door by James.