“How did you find us?” he asked, his voice frighteningly cold.
The guy rambled something incoherent, and Gabriel shoved him so hard against the wall his feet practically left the ground.
“Talk!”
The man’s eyes darted around wildly—then they fell on me.
“The Tattler!” he blurted.
What?
I watched in horror as he lifted a hand and pointed right at me.
“It’s h-her! Helena Hastings! She gave the team the location and they sent me here. I’m just a photog on consignment, I swear.”
I was speechless as Gabriel turned to me, his face frozen in shock and anger.
“What. The. Fuck,” he breathed.
“I didn’t—”
Gabriel snapped his attention back to the man again. “How many more of you are there?”
“Just me.” The man held up his hands in surrender. “A-and if you lay a h-hand on me, I’ll take you to court for assault—”
“Trust me, you’re gonna walk away with a way worse deal than I will.”
A crowd was already starting to gather at the commotion. One of Cam’s security guys shouldered his way through them and sprinted over to Gabriel.
“Get him to Cam,” Gabriel snapped, shoving the pap at him. “And get your team to search the perimeter and flush every last one of these fuckers out of here. If even one photo is leaked to the press, you and your entire team are sacked.”
“Yes, sir.” The burly man grabbed the pap’s arms and dragged him away towards the back room.
Without another word, Gabriel turned and strode away from the crowd, the pap’s camera held tightly in his hand. He took out the memory card as he walked.
I hurried after him, but he didn’t pause until we were in the open hills, away from the church and out of sight of the wedding guests. The big oak tree that I had found so beautiful this morning stood nearby like a silent sentry.
“Gabriel—”
I jumped when he smashed the camera on the ground suddenly, sending glass and plastic flying.
He didn’t spare me a glance as he picked up the remnants of the camera and smashed them on the ground again. Then he snapped the memory card in his hand into two.
“You took the money after all,” he said simply.
“He’s lying, I swear I didn’t tell anyone.”
Gabriel exhaled, looking like he was pissed off at himself. “Can’t believe I thought you were different,” he muttered.
“Gabriel, it wasn’t me—”
“Here’s what you’re gonna do,” he said, his voice cutting and full of contempt. “You’re gonna make an excuse for yourself to Allie quietly, then you’ll take your shit and get the fuck out of here. And you’re going to do it with the biggest fucking smile on your face, because if Allie senses something’s wrong on her wedding day, if she ever finds out that you fucking sold her out, I’m coming after you.”
“But I didn’t,” was all I could manage. I tried desperately to think of something to convince him, some kind of proof that I was innocent, but my panicked mind drew a blank.
There was nothing I could say, but the worst part of it was knowing that I had earned that mistrust.
“Okay,” I finally said. “I’ll just say goodbye to Allie and then I’ll leave.”
My eyes were welling up again for the third time this morning, and I blinked them away impatiently.
God, I was so sick of my crying.
“Thanks for looking out for me today,” I added. “I hope we won’t meet again.”
Gabriel looked at me with an odd expression, saying nothing as I turned to leave.
And while I couldn’t see it, I knew his gaze never left me the entire way.
The Presidential Suite of Lancaster Hotel was more luxurious than the most palatial bedrooms in the world.
Built in the 1800s, the suite was designed in a modern mid-century style, and was almost the size of my penthouse—now repossessed by Queen James. The main bathroom alone was the size of an average apartment in NY, and the jacuzzi bathtub that I was currently sitting in was large enough to fit my entire frame with enough room to spare for three models—not that I was in the mood to test that out anytime soon.
I stretched and relaxed into the gently bubbling water. Soft jazz music was playing from invisible speakers somewhere in the high ceiling, and the lights were dimmed to an atmospheric amber for ultimate relaxation. There were young rose petals in the bathwater and I smelled like a goddamn flower.
Everything was perfect, but there was also one glaring problem:
I wasn’t enjoying any of it.
You know the feeling when you’re alone in bed in the dark and about to drift off, and right at that moment your stupid brain decides to remember that one time you fucked up so badly in high school—missed the clutch free throw in a rival basketball game or something—and your whole body just cringes?
That was me now. My mind just wouldn’t stop thinking that somehow I’d royally fucked up today.
Which didn’t make any sense, because I wasn’t the one who betrayed her own friends. Why couldn’t I shake the thought that I was the one in the wrong?
All I knew was that the look on Lena’s face when I had accused her was still haunting me.
Her pale-blue eyes had gone wide with hurt, but underneath that she had also been…
Defeated?
Resigned?
Like she already knew she was gonna leave because she didn’t belong.
I frowned and sank lower into the tub, submerging my body into the steaming water.
Whatever her deal was, I wasn’t gonna waste any more time trying to figure her out. First the article, and now this. Damn her for fucking with my brain so easily.
Closing my eyes, I forced the thoughts of her out of my brain and focused on the calming music. I could manage that much at least.
One minute passed.
Then two.
Then five.
…Yeah, this wasn’t working out. It was like her sad, sad eyes had been tattooed on the inside of my eyelids.
Cursing under my breath, I reached over and snagged my phone from the pedestal by the tub.
I dialed Cam’s number and waited for him to answer in his usual two-ring policy.
“I’m right upstairs, dumbshit, couldn’t find it in you to fucking walk?”
“I’m bareass naked in the bath, dumbshit, so unless you want my magnum dick in your face, shut the fuck up.”
Yeah, we had some catching up to do maturity-wise, bite me.
“What do you want?” Cam grumbled. “And unless you’re telling me you’re packing up, I don’t wanna hear it.”
“Nope, and in fact I’ve decided that I’m never leaving.” I flicked a rose petal off my chest. “It’s the pap from this morning, Lancaster. Have you sorted that out?”
“What? Oh, yeah, we cleared that up pretty quickly. The fucker got lucky by tailing the Director of the Union Bank to the wedding. We’re getting Valentine to file a suit against him.”
“Wait a sec—” I jerked upright so quickly that water and rose petals sloshed over the rim of the tub. “So it wasn’t Helena Hastings?”
Cam scoffed. “’Course not, the bastard would’ve accused anybody to get out of it, even an idiot would’ve known that.”
“Oh shit,” I breathed.
“Any idiot except you, apparently.” Cam sighed. “What the hell did you do now?”
I scrubbed a hand over my face. “I threw Helena Hastings out of her friend’s wedding, more or less. I thought she ratted.”
“You gotta be kidding me.”
“God, you have no idea how much I wish I was.”
“Then you’re not only an idiot but a grade-A asshole too,” Cam drawled, “’cause if what the pap said was true, Helena was actually fired from her job this morning.”
“Fired?” I yelled. “Why?”
“Obviously because she didn’t rat on Allie, idiot.”
“Please say you're joking. Please tell me Helena Hastings is a lying two-faced traitor and that I was right for throwing her out of her friend's wedding.”
In addition to making her cry.
Twice.
“Well, she's not, and you're an asshole.”
“Ah, shit. Shit!” My tone turned accusatory. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner!”
“How would I know you’d gone and done something so stupid!”
“Dude, you can’t let me take the fall for this alone.”
“Watch me do it, and watch Karin and Allie forgive me for it.”
“Screw you, Cam, this is not the time to be throwing my own words back at me.” I stabbed my hand through my hair impatiently. The guilt nibbling away at me earlier was straight out devouring me now. “I'll have to apologize, won’t I?”
“Ya think?”
But a mere sorry wasn’t gonna cut it this time. The things she wrote about me aside, Helena had kept her word when she said she would, even at the expense of a job that was so important to her.
And then I had gone and kicked her out of her own friend’s wedding.
“Gotta go,” I muttered, hanging up before Cam could get his final word in.
Then I let my head fall back against the rim of the bathtub again.
Jesus effing Christ, this was a mess. Nothing I knew about Helena Hastings was adding up and it was driving me nuts.
I briefly considered calling Karin, but I had a hunch that from zero to hundred on the secretive scale, Lena was pretty much North Korea, and even her closest friend wouldn’t have the answers to the questions I had.
I got out of the bath, slung a towel around my hips and went to the study wing of the suite.
Luckily for me, Karin was not the most careful person around, and I vaguely recalled her sending out a document by mistake last week. If my memory served me right, it should be floating somewhere in the dredges of my inbox…
I sifted through two-hundred-and-fifty unread emails before I found what I was looking for: a PDF with the phone numbers of everyone involved in the bridal party, including Lena’s.
Jackpot.
Now, an upstanding guy would’ve asked Karin before calling Lena, but the truth was—and also what the good people of America would soon realize—was that I was the farthest thing from a gentleman.
I dialed Lena’s number and waited for her to pick up.
It rang out, so I called again.
This time it connected, and Lena’s voice came from the receiver.
“H-hello?”
“Hey.” I cleared my throat, feeling tongue-tied suddenly. “Yeah, it’s me. Gabriel. Sorry for springing this on you out of nowhere, but you see…”
I searched my mind for the magic words to say to make everything right, but with Lena waiting expectantly on the other end, all I could settle for was the truth.
“Why didn’t you tell me they fired you?” I asked gruffly.
Lena gave a light, bitter laugh. “So you heard.”
“From Cam, yeah.”
“I dunno. I guess I din’ think it mattered.”
I shifted the phone to my other ear. “Well, it does. It would’ve changed everything.”
“I din’ realize I had to explain myself to you.” Pause. “Asshole,” she added.
I frowned. Sudden bravery aside, Lena sounded off somehow, like her words were coming from underwater.
“Helena… Are you drunk?”
“No-pe.”
Okay, she was at least tipsy. And if I had to go on a limb, I’d wager Lena rarely drank. This was hitting her hard.
I exhaled, feeling like the lowest lifeform that ever existed. “Listen, can I swing by your area for a minute?”
“N-now? You wanna meet me right now?”
“I know it sounds shady, I shouldn’t be asking to meet at—” I tipped my chair back so I could see the time on the wall, “—midnight, but it’d be great if we could sort this out.”
“I’m not gonna sleep w’ you,” she said accusingly.
I raised an eyebrow. Where did that come from?
“The feeling’s mutual, Hastings, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Really?”
“Yeah man, I swear. I won’t even look at you or have that kind of thoughts about you. Look.” I made the sign of the cross even though she couldn’t see it. “I, Gabriel Easton, solemnly swear that I will never hit on Helena Hastings, or make a move on her, or try to f—uh, sleep with her. Ever.”
Another pause.
“Hm. Okay then.”
She sounded satisfied, and I didn’t know if I should feel offended.
“So, five minutes of your time? It’s totally cool if you say no, by the way.”
That was a lie. If she said no, I wouldn't get a single night’s sleep for the next five weeks.
I shut up as I waited for Lena to decide. I was starting to realize that she was more comfortable in the silence. In other words, she was my total opposite. The next several moments passed awkwardly for me until Lena finally sighed.
“I can do five minutes,” she said reluctantly. “But no more than that.”
“Perfect,” I said, more relieved than I expected to be. “Where’s your location?”
I noted down her address as she told me.
“Copy that,” I grinned, already on my feet and grabbing my car keys. “See you in twenty.”
Lena was already waiting downstairs when I pulled up to her apartment building. It was a cool night and she was bundled in a grey hoodie and black joggers like she was about to go to bed. Her blonde hair was in a bun like this morning, but now it was less neat, with several long strands slipping out around her face. The black frame glasses on her face made her eyes look wide and round like a surprised and befuddled owl.
I frowned when I realized that she was waiting on the street instead of safely in her apartment. Her neighborhood wasn’t exactly Beverly Hills, plus she had been drinking.
But it wasn’t like I had a right to be worried about her, so I let it go.
She opened the car door and got in before I could hop out to get it for her. Was she worried about being spotted with me? I couldn’t exactly blame her if she was. The media was especially merciless when it came to women.
A sweet smell filled my car the moment she got in, and my mouth curved. Lena Hastings was a lightweight drinker if even fruit beer could get her tipsy. Those things packed no more punch than a soda.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey.” Lena glanced around my car.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she replied, polite even when tipsy. “S’nice. Very…bright.”
Yep, my Ferrari was red both inside and out. Classy? Not really. Eye-catching? Oh yeah.
“Sweet, isn’t she? I flew a designer in from Italy just to work on the interior.” I grinned as Lena shifted gingerly in her seat. “Don’t worry about scratching the leather, it can handle more than it looks. Cute PJs, by the way.”
She looked down at her clothes in faint confusion. “They’re not PJs, I wear these when I go out to get groceries.”
“Ah.”
“I haven’t changed out yet,” she explained, but her face was already heating in embarrassment.
I cleared my throat and switched the subject. “So anyway. As I was saying earlier.”
“Yes?”
Okay, this was harder than I thought. I was no stranger to apologizing, it was the quickest way to get out of trouble. I said sorry to whoever needed to hear it, whenever I needed to say it. Most times I even meant it, but something about the expectant way Lena was looking up at me made it hard for words to form in my head.
“Look, Helena, I was an absolute jerk to you this morning. And yesterday.” I exhaled and dipped my head, gazing at her through my lashes and doing my best to look contrite. “I came over to apologize, and to ask if you’ll forgive me.”
There. That wasn’t so hard. I didn’t know what I was all worked up about.
“Oh.” Lena blinked several times like I’d just said the last thing she expected me to. She nodded slowly. “Okay. Yeah, I accept your apology.”
Sweet.
“But.” She cleared her throat as if gearing herself up for what she was about to say. “I don’t forgive you.”
“But I apologized,” I said slowly.
Lena nodded stiffly. “And I accept it. But I don’t forgive you.”
Was she drunker than I realized? She was acting braver than I gave her credit for.
I peered closer at her, but her blue-grey eyes were clear and bright, even if her cheeks were flushed.
“That’s the same thing, though,” I pointed out.
“Not exactly, because you haven’t earned it,” she said, but I could tell she was already beginning to deflate from her false bravado. “My forgiveness, I mean.”
I scoffed, crossing my arms across my chest. Lena’s gaze dropped to where my biceps were straining the sleeves of my t-shirt, and her cheeks turned pink. That didn’t lessen my annoyance at her.
“Don’t get me started on how you’ve been slandering my name for weeks, but hey, if you want to go there I’m game.”
Now it was her turn to look shamefaced.
“Point taken,” she mumbled.
“Good. Now if we’re done keeping score, can we wipe the slate clean, please? You’ll stop writing shit about me, and I’ll stop treating you like you’re someone who’s been writing shit about me.”
I held my hand out in truce.
”Fine,” Lena said under her breath.
She shook my hand, pulling back after the brief second of contact and folding her arms as a barrier against me.
“Why a tabloid?” I asked suddenly. The question had been bugging me ever since I met her. “You hate what you do, that part’s obvious. So why stay on?”
Lena chewed her lip, weighing the idea of telling me.
“It gets me access to information,” she finally said. “And entry into events to get close to sources. They’re things I need for…a personal project.”
My brows drew together. If I heard her right, Lena was talking about whistleblowing.
Charming (New York Heirs #3) Page 6