In the room, Paris Hilton sat at the foot of the bed with both hands braced against the mattress, one leg crossed over the other. The polish on her toenails was a vivid bright pink, more vibrant than Taylor's pale pink.
Ryan sat opposite her. He had just been very "politely" escorted into Paris's room by security, all at Paris's instruction.
"Can I leave now?" Ryan asked cautiously.
"No!" Paris swiftly switched legs, and something flashed into view. In fact, the bath towel lay quietly on the floor; aside from a necklace and bracelets, she wore nothing.
"Are you messing with me? Is this fun to you? There's only one way you're leaving—make me satisfied!" she said with a light laugh, clearly trying to force Ryan to give in.
After thinking for a moment, Ryan stood up directly.
That was more like it. Paris smiled, leaning her upper body back slightly as she spread her legs, naturally slipping into a battle-ready stance.
But Ryan simply turned around and headed for the door.
"Come back! Stop right there! I'll count to three..." Before Paris could finish, Ryan had already vanished.
All looks and no substance. Paris sneered, deciding Ryan must have been lacking in that department. In reality, Ryan's restraint was entirely thanks to the detailed information he had investigated overnight on some of the guest list. Not only had he revisited One Night in Paris, but he had also learned that twenty-seven-year-old Paris Hilton had already had forty-four publicly known boyfriends. And those were only the public ones. Add in the undisclosed, unacknowledged, and chance encounters, and the number might even double. Her private life was truly colorful.
Just as Paris Hilton wondered whether she should find another party companion, she suddenly heard a knock. After wrapping herself in the