Reba peered at her over the top of her glasses, telegraphing that she knew what Cherisse was doing. Avoiding. Which she planned to do all tonight. It was best for everyone. Even though she’d push through, deal with it if she and Sean ended up in the same breathing space, she rather they didn’t. The media would love that, hoping for another meltdown.

Sean’s popularity had climbed steadily over the two years they’d been together, thrusting her in the media’s eye too by sheer proximity. Her blow-up with him in public? Yeah, that had brought the thirsty gossipers out for blood.

The way random media still trotted it out when she did an interview, they clearly wouldn’t let her live it down, which was fucking bullshit. Sean was the cheating ass, after all. She sure as fuck wasn’t having a repeat performance because Sean would smile and charm his way into looking like a repentant angel. His fans had even spewed accusations of her using his fame to boost her business, which...fine, being with Sean had brought her better networking opportunities, but she hadn’t gotten with him because of that. She hadn’t set out to date a celebrity. They’d met at one of his events where she had been hired to cater the dessert. Even though they had hit it off immediately, Cherisse had been reluctant. The gossip about men in the music business was rampant, but she had decided to throw caution to the wind for once. Not that his die-hard fans cared. After obsessively checking comment after comment, she’d had to stop. Some fans had gotten seriously vile.

“Don’t worry.” Reba patted Cherisse’s shoulder. “We got your back.”

Tonight, Reba looked like a living, breathing Starburst, with her pastel pink hair in loose waves around her deep brown shoulders. Her tight off-the-shoulder dress was a deeper shade of pink than her hair, but it worked. Her eyeshadow was an explosion of orange and yellow. She looked sweet and fruity, but the determination reflected in her eyes said she would deal with anyone who tried to cross Cherisse. Her look alone would bring anyone to their knees.

She grinned at the thought of Reba destroying Sean with cleverly coded sarcasm. According to Reba, it was her one superpower, besides her baking skills. Reba wasn’t just her PA; she was her Assistant Pastry Chef, too.

“It shouldn’t come to anything serious. I’m staying clear of any annoyances in the form of Sean Daley,” she assured Reba, and Remi, who had strolled over, camera slung around her neck.

Remi rocked a black jumpsuit and her signature wedges, and her miles of curly hair were trapped in a French braid tonight, with some strands coming loose around her face. She towered over Cherisse, who was wearing heels, making Cherisse feel small and very squishy, which was ridiculous and, she knew, just her nerves. She’d thought she looked pretty in her sleeveless royal blue dress with its beaded Peter Pan collar, opting for something cute and comfy because this was still work, even if they’d already set up and were free to enjoy the cocktails. She had to be in networking mode, break out her sweet-talking skills to secure more business for Sweethand.