I also text Mira, but she’s out of town as well for some emergency meeting with production people for one of her clients. I consider calling and asking her point blank, but something stops me. It’d be better to see her reaction in person when we talk about this. Can you swing by as soon as you’re back in town? I text.
Will do.
The sight of Bethany’s face won’t leave me. She looked awful, and I bet there were a lot more bruises and injuries underneath the hospital gown. The woman is admirably upbeat, but I wish she’d at least groused about how unfair it was that she’s hurt or something. That might’ve made me feel…
I narrow my eyes. Less guilty? The realization doesn’t make me particularly proud of myself.
If someone on my team caused Bethany’s accident—directly or indirectly—I have to take care of it. And without involving Paige. Keeping her in the dark is lying by omission, but the alternative is losing her.
And I can’t lose her. Not now.
Chapter Twenty
Paige
Even with the lighter than normal traffic, it takes a little over an hour to reach Bethany and Oliver’s house. My phone’s been buzzing nonstop in my purse, but I’ve been ignoring it. I never talk on the phone when I’m driving, not even for Ryder.
After I park the Mercedes in front of the house, I check the log. I have like a gazillion unread texts and over twenty missed calls.
All from a number I do not recognize.
I frown. My number isn’t exactly a state secret, not the way Ryder’s is, but it isn’t public either. Since there are way too many texts for me to read—most of them repeating Call me back. It’s really urgent!—I dial. There is a possibility that it’s some freak who managed to get a hold of my mobile info, but it could also be somebody who genuinely has pressing business…
It takes only two rings before the other party answers. “Thank god you called me back!”
Every cell in my body tenses. “Shaun?”
“I’ve tried to call you for days, but you wouldn’t answer.”
“I had your number blocked, obviously! Do you honestly think I want to talk to you?” Then something else occurs to me. “Are you stalking me? I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to talk to you after what you pulled.”
“Okay, okay, don’t hang up!”
“Go to h—”
“Paige, I didn’t do it! I swear!”
Anger and something far uglier churn in my heart like a dark, stormy sea. “Riiight. A camera just set itself up in your closet and happened to start recording when we were having sex. Then the video conveniently uploaded itself to YouTube through your computer.”
“No, you don’t understand! Okay, I did the recording. I thought it would be…well, you know, hot to look at it later. Besides, I thought I looked good in it.”
“Oh, for god’s sake! How do you ever find hats to fit your head?” I can’t believe I dated this man, thinking he was the best I could do. Good lord. I’d rather sew up my lady parts than be with him ever again!
“But Paige, I swear to god, I didn’t upload it anywhere! Just think for a minute. What does the tape get me? I’m not going to become famous because of it. Nobody gives a shit about the guy in those videos, you know that. And it would only piss off Ryder, which is not what I ever wanted to do. I wanted him to star in my movie!”
“Shaun, I really don’t give a damn what you did because the sex video is out there for everyone to see, including my parents.”
“Did they really watch it?”
“I don’t know and I didn’t ask,” I spit.
“I can’t get a gig anywhere now, and Ryder’s lawyers are demanding, like, ten million dollars. What the fuck? I know he’s blackballed me.”
“Good. I told you you’d never get anywhere with him. But you’re so full of yourself you wouldn’t listen.”
“No, you aren’t listening. I didn’t do it! I’m telling you, my account got hacked!”
“Sure.”
“I’m serious. I even had to change my password.”
“To what? Shaunisawesome?”
A short pause. “How did you know?”
I close my eyes. “Oh my god…” I can’t even. “Shaun, listen to me very carefully. If you ever call me again, I will tell Ryder, and his lawyers will add harassment to whatever they’re suing you for already. I’m not going to lift a finger on your behalf, so you’ve just wasted both our time. You should spend your energy trying to convince Ryder and his lawyers that you are an innocent victim of hacking!” Breathing hard, I hang up and toss the phone back into my purse.
Just thinking about what he’s done is infuriating. But at the same time, the fact that he’s going to pay for it sends a hot streak of satisfaction through me. I told Ryder to let it go, but maybe he was right to teach Shaun a lesson. Some people just won’t learn without getting their wrists slapped, and I have a feeling that Shaun is one of the slower ones.
I climb out of the car and unlock Bethany’s house. Her office is on the second floor, so I climb the stairs and find it tidy as usual. She absolutely abhors clutter. I see a stack of papers on the desk plus a spiral notebook. I open it to make sure it has notes for the contract. Satisfied, I put it in my purse then stop. The first page of the contract has the information about Bethany’s web comic site and the other party: The Reed Trust.
I pause for a moment, remembering Julian’s threat. He wanted me to humiliate Ryder by ditching him at the altar. If I wouldn’t cooperate, he was going to start going after the people I care about. Is this somehow part of that threat?
I scan the contact info further. An address in L.A. Then a name: Brian Miller.
I blink. Brian Miller is Ryder’s business manager. Brian has other clients, of course, but this…
And there have to be other Brian Millers in Los Angeles, I tell myself. It’s not an uncommon name.
Still…
I tap my finger on the paper. If Ryder had created a trust, he probably wouldn’t have named it “Reed” since he hates Julian and everything his father stands for. On the other hand, he did adore his grandfather. And he genuinely enjoyed Bethany’s comics. So he could’ve formed a trust and named it “Reed” for his grandfather, then decided to fund Bethany’s comics.
I skim the rest of the paperwork, looking for clues. All I come away with is a sense that Ryder is not behind it. If he were, the contract terms wouldn’t be so onerous. He would’ve been tough, of course, but much fairer. He wouldn’t be asking to hold Bethany’s comics hostage for twenty-five years in the event that the partnership breaks up, and he certainly wouldn’t be demanding that Bethany match at least fifty percent of the money the trust is pouring into the venture.
But first things first. I take the notes and go back to my car, locking the house back up on the way out.
The drive over to Bethany’s lawyer’s office isn’t bad. The receptionist is a friendly Asian woman in her late fifties. Steel gray streaks her otherwise jet black hair, and she has large gold earrings in the shape of musical notes. “Thank you,” she says, taking the notebook. Her face creases as she smiles.