I floated into work in a cloud of unreality, still reeling from last night. My face ached from smiling, but I couldn't seem to stop myself because every time I thought of Ewan, I smiled again.

And I couldn't stop thinking about him if I tried.

Had he said I love you? I hadn't heard it, but I swore I felt it, and even though those words should have frightened me coming from a rockstar, coming from Ewan they just felt....

Right.

I made my way to my desk on autopilot and set about putting away my things. Tonight would be Wreckage's second show at the Sound Garden and I was already there in my head, letting the music wash over me at the beginning of the night before letting Ewan wash over me at the end. And maybe, just maybe I'd ask him what he'd said. I knew if I asked him, he'd tell me the truth.

With a smile, I tapped my desk calendar. And what was even better was that tomorrow was Saturday and it was wide open. Ewan and I could spend the whole day together. Maybe he'd come by my place and we could order Chinese from the restaurant I could see from my bathroom and feed it to each other for sustenance before falling back into bed for another round.

The thought filled me with such dreamy anticipation that I didn't realize there were other people here until a voice snapped me out of my fog.

"Good morning!" I sang out when I realized one of the PR assistants had greeted me while I was busy grinning like a fool.

"Hey there," she said with a toothy grin. She leaned over my cubicle, hovering. "I don't believe I've introduced myself. I'm Angie Harmon." I nodded and opened my mouth to answer her, but she shook her head. "Oh no, I know who you are, Celia Silver."

My overheated blood suddenly ran cold. "That's not my name," I faltered.

She sniffed at my obvious lie then tossed her head in the direction of Matt's cubicle, where an unusual knot of people was gathered. "I take it you haven't been online yet today?" she asked.

I looked at my still-booting-up computer like it had the answers. My heart was hammering so loudly in my ears that I almost couldn't hear myself. "No," I breathed.

She shrugged, her smile almost, but not quite sympathetic. "I'd figure a rich bitch like you would know to be more careful in public. Everyone has cameras these days."

Before I could demand to know what the fuck she was talking about, she stalked away, muttering something about some of us having to work for a living.

I pushed my chair back from my desk and made to stomp over to Matt's. But after that first determined step, my resolve wavered and I ground to a halt there in the middle of the aisle. I wanted to rush over there and demand to know what the hell they were all giggling and gaping at, but my feet seemed rooted to the spot.

"Excuse me?" Angie called, coming back in my direction with a stack of papers in her hand. "You can't just stand in the middle of the aisle like that. You're in the way."

"Sorry," I muttered, stepping to the side. My legs felt like they were made of lead. Over at Matt's desk, a new crowd was gathering and I felt, rather than saw them glancing in my direction. Staring at me. Whispering.

"What I can't figure out?" Angie mused, still standing there with her stack of papers. "Is why you had to sleep with someone to get a band signed if your daddy got you this job in the first place. That seems like it should be unnecessary, but what do I know? I didn't grow up rich. I've had to work for everything I've got."

"So do I," I said faintly.

"Whatever," Angie said with an audible eye roll. "Bitch."

"Hey," I said, rousing a little and turning on her. "Before you knew who my dad was, did you think these things about me?"

She rolled her eyes. "Before I knew who your dad was, I didn't give a single shit about you," she taunted. "That's the only reason anyone cares. Believe me."

She stalked off, but my frozen blood was already heating up.

"Matt!" I shouted.

He poked his head up from his cubicle. "Hey there Record Heiress," he said smugly. "Have you had your fill of canoodling yet?"

"What?" I shouted. Ignoring the sounds of tittering laughter, I shoved my way through the tightly clustered knot around his desk until I was standing right over his shoulder. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

He shrugged and tapped his screen and my heart plummeted down to my shoes.

Someone must have caught us that morning when I was leaving Ewan's place. His hand was on my arm, pulling me to him and my face was lifted to his like I was leaning in for a kiss. Record Heiress Caught Canoodling with Controversial Rocker screamed the headline.

"How the fuck did you find this?" I hissed, staring at the picture.

"He has a working internet," came the retort from behind me. It was followed by a series of snorted giggles, but I didn't turn to see who was laughing at me. I glared at Matt who was watching me with the smuggest look of triumph on his face.

"Why are you doing this?" I demanded.

He shrugged. "I didn't do a damn thing," he said, turning back to the computer like I wasn't even there. "But more to the point, neither have you."

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged again. "Your daddy handed you a job you weren't qualified for so you had to spread your legs to get somebody signed." He leaned back and looked me in the eye.

I blinked hard to keep the threatening tears from falling. I'd be damned if I let this asshole see me cry. "Haven't you seen me at the meetings?" I asked, my voice rising. "Haven't you noticed me working late every night? I've been working my ass off for this department."

"Oh, whatever, what do you want a gold star? A participation trophy or something? Maybe your daddy will buy you a pony for being such a good girl."

I narrowed my eyes. "Why do you hate me so much?"

"I don't hate you," he said dismissively. "I'm not even jealous or whatever you want to tell yourself. I just don't think it's fair that you got to waltz in here and think you can do our jobs better than we can just because of your last name." He leaned back. "Hell, maybe I am a little jealous. I wish I knew it was like not to have to work for anything."

I turned my head to wipe away the traitorous tears. "I do work," I protested weakly. "I've worked for everything." The gathered crowd was either bored or embarrassed for me now that I was openly crying and wandered away, still milling together in tight clumps with their eyes on me.

"Keep telling yourself that," Matt said. "In the meantime, I've got shit I need to do." And with that, he wiggled his mouse to wake up the screensaver and once again I saw the piece of tabloid gossip and the image of what I was to all of them. My worst fears come true. Heiress. Canoodler. Rich Bitch who needed her Daddy's name to even be worth noticing at all. That's who I was and I was a fool to think I could ever prove myself otherwise.