“We’ve been set up. Somebody called the photographers. Somebody wanted them to see me like this. You like that.”
“And of course, you, forever the easy prey where a pretty woman is concerned, rose to the occasion of being seduced,” I exclaimed theatrically, my uncontrolled rage turning into bitter sarcasm. “Poor Hunter Fitzpatrick. So close to his family’s fortune, yet so, so far.”
“I didn’t…” he started, but I pushed him away. He couldn’t deny what I’d just seen with my own eyes.
“Save me the excuses and leave.”
Junsu came running through the corridor, thunder in his eyes.
“Get away from her!” he barked like a rabid dog, shaking his fist in the air. He possessed a vitality I hadn’t seen in him for months. “I kick your ass!”
Hunter lifted his hands, looking between the two of us, his deep breaths contracting his abs into a tight six pack.
“Sailor,” Hunter murmured under his breath. “I have some things I need to tell you, and we need to have this conversation alone.”
“This is the last time I’m going to repeat myself.” I lifted my finger to Hunter. “We’re done forever. Don’t talk to me. Don’t approach me. I’ll talk to your dad about the fine print regarding our…arrangement.” I kept it vague, as if I hadn’t told Junsu all the details. “I’ll send my dad and Sam to pick up my stuff from the apartment.”
With that, I bolted back toward the door, pushing through it with the speed of a bullet. Some of the photographers were still loitering around, smoking and looking at their phones. As soon as I burst out, they picked their cameras up and started chasing me.
I caught sight of Lana standing in the corner of the parking lot, fully dressed in a chic off-shoulder pink sweater, skinny jeans, and riding boots, giving an interview to a sports reporter, addressing the rumors about her and her new beau, Hunter Fitzpatrick.
“It’s still the early days.” She laughed throatily, making a show of flipping her hair. “And as you can see, unfortunately, there’s a lot of interest from unwanted female admirers.”
The reporters burst out laughing, nodding enthusiastically.
Me. I was the admirer. The stalker. The weird idiot who had a public meltdown when she found them. The need to throttle Lana made my fingertips burn.
All because of one mistake. One accident. One tragedy that had linked Lana and me together forever.
I knew Hunter was being escorted out of the club by security under Junsu’s supervision, and that my trainer would understand why I couldn’t stay, so I started running. I put one foot in front of the other until I hit a good pace. My mother was a runner. I’d inherited my lithe, athletic legs from her. Running relatively long distances, even without practice, wasn’t a problem.
It was when the wind hit my face that I realized I was crying. The heat of my tears against my ice-cold cheeks made my face feel numb. My tears flew behind me as I sliced through the air, running faster, toward downtown. I’d make a phone call after I dodged the photographers. First, I had to lose them.
It was only when I was fifteen blocks from the club that I dared peek over my shoulder. The paparazzi were nowhere in sight. They’d already gotten what they were looking for—a scandal they could spin a million different ways and juicy photos that’d get tongues wagging.
I stopped at a traffic light, pressing my hands to my knees, panting. As soon as I regulated my breath, I took my phone out. Ten missed calls from Junsu. Twelve from Mom. Two from Dad. Four between Sam, Emmabelle, and Persy. Thirty-one from Hunter. My battery was dying.
I hit the dial button and called Mom back.
“Hey, Mom, can you pick me up?” I tried to keep my voice as casual as I could, even though I knew she knew something was up. She wouldn’t call me so many times for nothing. Some of the pictures must have had already hit the websites as the news broke.
All I heard was a sniff on the other line, and then, “On my way.”
Later that night, the gossip sites added a convoluted story to the pictures of me storming out of the club and Hunter chasing me half-naked. As I suspected, the headlines ranged from “Hunk Dumps Archer Sailor Brennan for Bombshell Lana Alder” to “Billionaire’s Son (yes, the one with the sex tape!) Caught Cheating on Olympic Hottie.”
There was even one story claiming an insider insisted Hunter and I were in an arranged relationship to keep him out of trouble. I had no doubt who’d orchestrated the entire thing: Lana. The minute she found out I lived with him, she went after him and put this entire nightmare in motion. The only thing I still couldn’t figure out was how she found out who I lived with. Who gave her the info?
“I mean, they did call you a hottie.” Emmabelle passed me a tub of ice cream, snatching the phone from my hand so I couldn’t read more speculations about my relationship with Hunter. Belle, Persy, and Aisling were all perched in my childhood bedroom on my old bed, which my parents had dragged back from storage when news of Hunter and Lana started making the rounds. Mom floated in and out of my room periodically, offering milkshakes, cookies, and ice cream. Not only was I heartbroken, but now I would likely die prematurely of type two diabetes.
“They also referred to you as an Olympic athlete,” Aisling pointed out sheepishly, munching on her lower lip.
It was probably weird for her to be here, being the sister of the offender, but she kept a straight face and didn’t try to defend him.
“So, are you going to tell us Hunter’s charges?” Emmabelle poked my ribs. “Are we talking breaking the contract and screwing you over with his dad, which is infuriating, albeit redeemable, or is it…more?”
I was washed with sympathetic gazes. Although my friends had practically witnessed my fooling around with Hunter, I’d never confirmed my relationship with him, and they’d never pushed.
Feeling my throat working, I began to pick invisible lint from the blanket on top of my crossed legs. I felt guilty for not confiding in them sooner. I never kept anything from my friends.
“Are you asking if we were together?” I cleared my throat.
The tub of ice cream was transferred into Persy’s hand when Belle realized I wasn’t going to eat any.
“We’re asking if you’re in love,” Persy said gently, squeezing my thigh.
“And byproduct, if we need to go there and kick his ass.” Emmabelle flexed her nonexistent bicep. “Don’t worry, Aisling. You’re excused from the task.”
“Oh, I’ll be the one aiming straight for his genitals to show where my loyalty lies.” Aisling’s eyes flared.
We all burst out in laughter. Even me.
Aisling shook her head and patted my leg. “I will never forget the day you brought me into your circle.”
“I know, but blood is thicker than water,” I croaked.
“That may be, but loyalty is thicker than blood,” Aisling replied. “We’re a team now. A pack. The Boston Belles.”
The room fell silent. The new nickname rolled nicely off her tongue. It rang true and sweet. I smiled again, mainly to make my friends feel like they were getting somewhere with their attempts to console me.
“So?” Emmabelle turned the conversation back to me. “Are you in love with the well-endowed sex-tape prince?”