Amelia shoved her way through the crowd and darted into a backstage room without even glancing at the sign on the door—anywhere to get away from those damn reporters.
Slamming the door shut behind her, she immediately yanked out her phone and dialed, her fingers shaking. Every second the dial tone rang, her heart clenched tighter. Her footsteps echoed frantically against the floor—click, click, click—as she paced like a trapped animal.
Click. The call connected.
"YOU IDIOT!" she exploded before the other person could even speak. "Do you have any idea what you've done to me?!"
As the voice on the other end tried to defend itself, her brow furrowed deeper, her face flushed with rage. She had a dozen curses loaded and ready to fire, but they caught in her throat, tangled with fury.
She threw her head back and groaned in frustration. "YOU told me that design was clean. You swore it came from an unknown designer and that it was safe to use. Do you even know what just happened?! That design
