“I’ve always been in love with Viv,” Reeve says, stopping to talk to her. He pins her with a wide disarming smile, and he’s practically glowing. A swarm of reporters crowds around him, and camera flashes go off in his face. “I never stopped loving her, and I never will. She’s the only woman for me.” He stares pointedly at the camera, and I want to wipe the superior look off his smug face. “Nothing or no one will ever come between us again.” He might as well be saying it directly to my face because I know this message is directed at me. “She’s back in my arms, exactly where she belongs. Where she’s going to stay.”
I throw the remote at the screen, cracking the glass, as rage infiltrates my veins, replacing the blood flow. Anger unlike anything I’ve ever felt before races through me, and I tear through the room, ripping pictures off the walls, tossing the furniture around, destroying the curtains and bedding, and throwing anything that isn’t pinned down at the walls and the windows. I can’t see anything over the red layer tainting my vision and the angry tsunami sweeping through my insides, obliterating everything in its path.
I’m still in a monstrous rage when security enters my room and I’m hauled outside the hotel in handcuffs. I lose my shit in the back of the police car as they take me to the headquarters of the Los Angeles Police Department and throw me into a cell. Fury continues to pummel my insides even as the mad adrenaline rush leaves, and my exhausted body slumps against the bench. Vengeance returns, a million times stronger than before, and I know what needs to be done.
I am such a fool, and Viv has played me for a right idiot.
She never had any intention of staying with me. She waltzed straight back into his arms—into his bed—only hours after being with me. How could she do that? Did I mean so little to her that she could fuck me and then fuck him without any remorse or guilt? Because I saw zero regrets on her face in that picture. She was basking in his possessive adoration, like I no longer existed.
The walls around my heart harden along with my resolve.
Simon and Reeve are no longer the isolated entries on my shit list. I’ve now added Hollywood to the mix.
She will pay. They will all pay for treating me like I don’t matter.
The seriousness of my situation hits home when I let my mind wander, and I realize how badly I’ve fucked up. It’s quite likely I will be kicked out of the US and forbidden from ever returning. We can kiss our music dreams goodbye if that happens. I wouldn’t care except it will devastate the guys. They are banking on things working out with this A&R guy, and I won’t be the reason things fall apart. I need someone with clout in this town to make this go away, and I know just who to call. My mind churns ideas as I align both goals. It will take longer to achieve if I do this, but it’s the only way.
Standing, I grip the cell bars, shaking them to get the attention of the woman behind the counter outside. “I want my phone call.” I’ve watched enough US police dramas to know my rights.
Ten minutes later, I’m sitting in a small interview room while the surly cop rummages through my duffel bag. “This?” he asks, holding the wrinkled brown envelope in his hand.
“Yeah. See that number written on the top? That’s the number I need.” Thank fuck, I thought to stuff the old NDA into my bag before I left home. I’ve held on to it all these years because I knew there might come a day when I’d have to sign it. Some sixth sense told me to bring it with me, and now I know why. It’s the leverage I need to get myself out of this mess and begin to put a new plan of revenge in place.
The cop picks up the handset and gives it to me. I punch in the private number, holding the phone to my ear as I wait for him to answer.
“Simon Lancaster,” he drawls, arrogance dripping from his tone.
“I’ll sign it on two conditions,” I say, knowing he already knows who I am. “I want five million dollars, and I need your help to extract me from a situation.”
1
VIVIEN
A few days after the end of SITO
Rolling up my yoga mat, I head into the changing room to get showered, hating how quickly I lose my inner Zen. Panic jumps up and slaps me in the face, and my mind races with so many scary thoughts. It’s been the same since Dillon resurfaced in my life, turning my world upside down.
Thankfully, he didn’t show up for Easton’s birthday party, but it didn’t stop me from fretting on the day, terrified he was going to make an appearance. I have barely managed to grab more than a few hours of sleep each night because I’m too stressed to switch off. My brain spins thoughts on a continuous loop until it feels like I’m going crazy.
I shower and dress as if on autopilot, my mind preoccupied to the point I don’t see anything around me and I’m not aware of my movements. I’m exhausted in every possible way.
Standing in front of the mirror, I rest my hands on the edge of the sink as I examine my lackluster complexion. Whatever pregnancy glow I was sporting has evaporated in the days since the news broke that Dillon is my husband’s twin. The thought he could be Easton’s father is beyond anything I can comprehend.
How can I tell Reeve?
I know this will break his heart, but I can’t hide it from him for much longer. Dillon warned me not to mention anything to my husband, making veiled threats to force me into toeing the line, but he can eat shit. He doesn’t get to show up and start dictating what I do and what I say.
Audrey was as shocked as me when I told her everything. She can’t believe Dillon seduced me in Ireland as part of some sick revenge pact, but I believe it because I saw the hatred in his eyes a few days ago. Dillon hates me, and he hates Reeve, and he’s not going to stop until he’s sucked all the joy from our lives.
How could I be so gullible to fall for his ruse? No wonder he didn’t come to Dublin Airport. He must have been reading my letter and laughing his head off at how easily I fell under his spell. I feel like such an idiot. Especially considering Dillon owns part of my heart to this day. I desperately want to reclaim it because he doesn’t deserve any part of me.
Including my son.
God.
Tears prick my eyes, and I hang my head, clutching the countertop as I barely hold it together. A sob escapes my mouth, and I’m grateful the other ladies have already left and I’m here alone. I wouldn’t want anyone to witness this. I break down; letting days’ worth of pent-up emotion leak from my eyes.
I’ve been walking on eggshells around Reeve, plastering fake smiles on my face in the hope he doesn’t notice anything amiss, but I can’t do it for much longer.
I’m trying to decide if I should fess up now or wait until I have the paternity test results. I know Reeve’s first concern when I tell him the truth will be Easton. It would be nice to reassure him with the test results—assuming Reeve is revealed as his father. If it turns out Dillon is his biological father, waiting will be in vain. I’m also worried about the impact this will have on my marriage. Concealing this from Reeve is a massive abuse of his trust. I’m not sure he’ll forgive me if I continue to keep this a secret from him.
My cell pings in my purse, forcing me to get a grip. I’m going to be late if I don’t hurry. Drying my eyes, I apply some makeup to disguise my blotchy cheeks before running a comb through my hair. My quick blow-dry means my long brown hair falls in unstructured waves over my shoulders, but I have zero fucks to give right now. My pretty summer dress highlights my blossoming bump, and I run my hands over my swollen belly, drawing comfort from my unborn child.