by Jade Kerrion
“You know I can’t do that, Maggie.”
“Why not?” Her voice rose in indignation. “It’s the truth.”
“No one’s interested in the truth. People want a story, the more lurid and sensational, the better.”
“But my contract—”
“If you intend to sue me for slander, you won’t succeed. I didn’t actually say anything in public. It’s not my fault people believe you would willingly participate in a sex video.”
“You can’t—”
“I didn’t do anything,” Tyler said.
“You posted the video! Take it down.”
“Even if I take it down, it’s on a dozen or more mirror sites. I don’t control those.”
“But I could lose my job—”
“I didn’t mean for that to happen, but it’s out of my control now, Maggie. Surely you see that.” His calm, reasonable voice grated on her like cut glass.
Maggie glanced around at the tap on her shoulder. Brandon held his hand out for the phone, and she handed it to him. Her mind reeled from the implications—her modeling contracts, her job, her career...she could lose them all. She heard Brandon speak sharply to Tyler, but his words did not register through the rushing sound in her head. Her legs wobbled. Drew braced her with an arm against her back and lowered her into a chair. His hand rested against her shoulder, steadying her through her heaving breaths.
Brandon hung up and swore loudly.
Maggie looked up at him. “What did he say?”
“He’s confident we won’t be able to nail him for slander, but I swear, I’ll find something else…privacy or harassment, perhaps.”
“But what about my contract?”
Brandon slid the phone back to her. “You better call your agent, and go talk to the people at Armani. Maybe they’ll believe you, but even if they do, your image is damaged. They may not want that.”
“But I didn’t even know—”
“The problem is no one believes it. You’re a model. Everyone automatically assumes you’re seeking the spotlight, and what better way than with a sex video?”
“But that’s not fair.”
“No one gives a damn what’s fair. You’re in the news with three different men every week.”
“I didn’t sleep with them.”
Brandon shook his head. “No one gives a shit. The point is everyone believes you’re a man-eating barracuda. You go through celebrities like toilet paper. Unless Tyler comes clean and confesses that you didn’t know you were taped, you haven’t a shot at convincing anyone that you weren’t a willing and knowing participant in the video.”
“Oh, God.” Maggie pressed her cold fingertips to her forehead. Her breath shuddered out of her. “What do I do?”
“I told you. Call your agent. Maybe you can salvage something out of this before I take Tyler, or Armani, or both, to court. Once I do, there will be no way to get out of this without dragging your name through the mud.”
“I thought my name was already dragged through the mud,” she said bitterly.
“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” Brandon said.
Drew’s grip on Maggie’s shoulders tightened. “I have to get back to New York.”
She twisted around to look up at him. “No, don’t go. Please stay.”
He shook his head, not meeting her eyes. “There are things I need to do.”
Her heart clenched. “This isn’t about Tyler and the video, is it?”
Drew said nothing. To Maggie, he might as well have screamed, “Yes!”
He excused himself quietly and left through the kitchen door. Maggie waited until the door closed before she allowed the tears to leak from the corners of her eyes.
Brandon sighed. “I’m sorry, Maggie. He didn’t deserve you.”
She shook her head. “No, of course not. Drew doesn’t deserve a man-eating barracuda.” She buried her face in her hands. “Why would he think he’s any different from the other men in my life?”
“Other than the fact that you’ve been infatuated with him for ten years?”
“Yeah. Other than that.” Maggie managed a weak smile. “He doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand why it’s different with him.”
“Words can only get you so far, especially with someone like Drew who doesn’t say much of anything under most circumstances.” Brandon huffed out his breath. “Anyway, you’ve got bigger issues than Drew right now. I’ll give you forty-eight hours to get a handle on this situation before I sue Tyler’s pants off his ass.”
Maggie raised her chin. “I’ll fix it.”
“Good. Otherwise it’s going to get ugly.”
~*~
Maggie braced for ugly. Actually, she braced for the end of the world as she knew it. She had called her agent. Together, they had spoken to the folks at Armani, who were coolly polite but remained firm as to the voided contract. Desperate, Maggie had called Tyler again, but he stopped taking her calls.
Brandon suspected Tyler had engaged an attorney and was preparing for a legal battle. Stopping all communication with Maggie would be the logical first step.
“I don’t know what else to do,” Maggie confessed to her brother, her voice quavering. “I’ve made such a horrible mess of things. Even the press release I put out didn’t work. Everyone’s just calling me a liar. They’re saying I must have known the video was rolling.” She sucked in a deep breath. “What do we do now?”
“Now we go to court. Your contract with Armani may be beyond salvage, but we can still save your career. There will be other contracts. Meanwhile, I’ve got you covered. Don’t worry about rent or anything—”
“I’m not worried. Drew made sure I’ve got myself covered,” Maggie said. She couldn’t help the bitter and ironic note in her voice. She had not heard from Drew since he returned to New York. He had fled from her at the first sign of real trouble.
Brandon’s smartphone beeped. He tugged it out of his pocket and glanced at it. His eyes widened as he tapped on the screen. “My paralegal says we’ve got a break on this case. Look at this.” He turned the screen so she could see the YouTube video of Tyler, slouched at a bar, horrendously drunk. The unseen person behind the camera zoomed in on Tyler’s face. “Didn’t mean to fuck up her job.” Tyler slurred the words as he reached for another shot glass.
Maggie’s breath caught.
“But you did,” the cameraman said.
Maggie’s eyes narrowed. Something about the unseen man’s voice seemed familiar.
Tyler rolled his eyes. “I was just ’nother man in her life. Didn’t mean nothing to her.”
“It doesn’t make it her fault.”
“Calling out another man’s name did!” Tyler slammed his fist down on the bar.
“So you did it out of revenge?”
“Hell, yeah, I did.” Tyler sneered. “That’ll teach the bitch to sleep around.”
The cameraman was briefly silent. “Did she know you were taping her?”
“’Course not. She’s shy. Hates the press. Hates cameras too.” Tyler threw his head back and tossed the drink down his throat. “Gimme ’nother one.”
Another shot glass slid across the smooth surface of the table.
Tyler grabbed it. His eyes crossed as he raised the glass in a salute. “I tell ya. No one means nothing to her. She just uses ‘em and spits ‘em out.”
“I know. More than you realize.”
The video faded into darkness and stopped.
Brandon threw his arms into the air. “Score! We got him. That son of a bitch is going to reach a settlement faster than you can spell ‘slander.’”
Maggie grabbed the smartphone from Brandon’s hand and replayed the video. The YouTube account that posted Tyler’s confession video had a gibberish name, no identifiers, and no other videos. Maggie was certain the account had been created for the sole purpose of getting Tyler’s confession into the public space, and judging from the amount of views and shares, the video was going viral. The comments on the v
ideo also indicated that Maggie’s public image was on the mend, from “lying and conniving slut” to “poor stupid slut.”
“I’d give the folks at Armani a day or two to process this new information, and then it’s worth a call to them,” Brandon advised. “I suspect they’ll reinstate your contract in some way, shape, or form. There may be some new early termination clauses in there, but if you behave, there’s no reason why they won’t take you back on contract. They’ll look like soulless corporate bastards if they don’t.”
“But who do you think took the video?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Brandon said. “And if you’re smart, you’ll let it be. Your best bet is to stay out of the mud slinging as much as you can. You’re the innocent, wronged party here. Play it up for all it’s worth.”
Maggie nodded, but her mind replayed the voice of the unseen cameraman. The smooth and rich baritone, a voice made for the radio and for post-sex conversations, was too familiar. She would have bet the million dollars sitting in her investment account that it was Drew’s voice.
She inhaled deeply, and when she released her breath, the pit of fear lodged in her stomach crumbled, but only slightly. Drew loved her—she did not doubt it for a second—but Drew doubted her love for him. She had heard it in his voice when he agreed with Tyler’s condemnation that she used men and spit them out.
She knew him well; she knew what he would do. Because Drew loved her, he would stay close enough to be used, but far away enough to escape the heartache of being spit out. He would not move beyond friendship. However, Maggie was tired of friendship. She wanted more, and she would not let Drew get away with anything less than the love of his life—specifically, her.
~*~
Maggie returned to New York City two days later. A visit to Armani, accompanied by her agent, resulted in a fresh contract, a host of stipulations to protect her damaged image, and a social media marketing campaign to rebuild her personal brand. She chaffed at the limitations, but knew she was in no position to refuse. Besides, her varied social calendar was taking an abrupt turn to focus on her unwilling financial advisor.
She called him that evening and was surprised when he picked up immediately. “Hi, Maggie,” he said.
Maggie nodded. Yes, it was most definitely his voice on Tyler’s confession video. “I’m back in town.”
“I see.”
“I’m back on contract with Armani.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“I was wondering, would you have time to meet with me to talk about the inheritance I got from Daddy? I want to know what your plans are for the money.”
“I…yeah, sure.”
“I’m not interrupting your plans with Felicity, am I?” she asked.
“No.” He said nothing else.
When was he going to tell her that he had broken up with Felicity? Maggie huffed. Sometimes, getting simple facts, never mind the truth, out of Drew was worse than a root canal procedure. What on Earth was he hoarding facts for?
“Same time, same place, tomorrow?” she asked.
“Yeah. I’ll see you there.”
Maggie hung up. She tapped the smartphone against her cheek, and a slow smile spread across her face. Drew, my darling. Your life is about to change.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Drew tried to hold his breath, but the smell of roast pork buns emanated through the paper bag to assault his nose and turn his stomach. The confined space of the elevator only seemed to heighten the stench, and he was grateful when the elevator door opened and the concentrated smell dissipated.
Maggie had not yet arrived, which was surprising. She wasn’t just punctual; she was usually early. He took a seat at their usual table and ordered a black coffee for himself and Maggie’s usual green tea for her. He set the paper bag of pork buns on the farthest possible side of the table from him.
Drew turned on his tablet and checked the social media feeds. A week after Tyler posted Maggie’s sex video, and three days after Drew had posted Tyler’s confession, the furor was finally dying down. Public attention span was too short to stay focused on a scandal that had resolved to its satisfaction. As a result of his confession video, Tyler was a pariah, but even that wouldn’t last long. Apparently, Maggie had chosen not to pursue charges against Tyler; Drew wondered how long it had taken Maggie to talk Brandon down from that path.
Probably not long. Few men could say no to Maggie. Drew was not thrilled to count himself among them, but he was done. Talking to Tyler had driven home one unarguable point—Maggie’s history of using and discarding men. Maggie had said that she loved him, but he had no reason to believe that his luck would be any better than the countless men she had dated.
He saw no reason to walk down the path of inevitable heartbreak just to indulge Maggie’s fancy that she was in love with him. Leaving aside even her father’s disapproval of him, Maggie had a child’s infatuation, and they were both no longer children. It was long past time for the both of them to grow up and face the facts: They could never be anything more than friends.
The elevator door opened, and Maggie walked out in a white dress he had never seen her wear before. The flowing material dipped low between her breasts, hugged her tiny waist, and ended in an uneven hem that it made her look like a dryad stepping out of a fairy tale. She flashed a smile as she caught sight of him and made her way over to the table. Her four-inch stilettos did not hinder her sexy strut.
“Hello, Drew.” She leaned down, flashed him a glimpse of the curve of her breasts, and brushed a kiss over his lips. “For me?” The seductive smile of the siren became the genuinely delighted smile of a child at Christmas as she seized the paper bag of roast pork buns. Drew ground his teeth. How was he not supposed to love a woman who could effortlessly captivate him with all her flashing moods?
Love, he reminded himself, wasn’t the issue. No one objected to him loving her; he just had to not get involved with her.
In lieu of hello, he asked brusquely, “You wanted to talk about your inheritance and your investments?” It was best to keep her focused on the money conversation.
Maggie pouted—and managed to look stunning doing so—as she slid into the seat across from him. She broke off a piece of the bun and slid it between her red lips.
Drew tried not to stare. “Maggie.”
“Yes?” she drawled. Her smile was innocent, but her eyes were knowing.
His groin tightened. Damn it, she was doing it deliberately. He jerked his gaze up to hers. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what, Drew?”
“Don’t play with me. I don’t deserve it.”
Maggie stared at him. She huffed out an exasperated breath, and in an instant, the coyly flirtatious woman disappeared. Seated across from him was his familiar friend of ten years, the one who didn’t know her checking account password, but who lived and loved with a vivacity that took his breath away. “Fine. You’re a spoilsport, you know that? What’s wrong with a little fun and games?”
I don’t want to get hurt. “I don’t have time for fun and games. I thought you wanted to talk about your investments?”
“Yes.” Her lighthearted mood gave way to seriousness. “That Tyler fiasco taught me something. I do need stable income sources that have nothing to do with modeling. My career could all go away in a heartbeat, the way your…” She bit her lip and looked away.
“The way my what?” he asked, pleased that he managed to keep his voice even. “The way my accident ended my football career?”
“You didn’t have any backup plans.”
“No, I didn’t, but I finished my degree and got a job. In the end, it turned out fine.”
“Really?”
“It could have been worse, Maggie. So much worse.”
A frown tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I still remember what happened after the hospital discharged you and sent you home.”
He shook his head. Most of the time, he tried not to think back to his accident. “Those weren’t my best
days.”
“You looked like something in you had died.”
Something in him had died. Many things, in fact. His sense of invulnerability. His professional football career. His worthiness as a possible match for Maggie. His ability to walk without pain. Suddenly, Drew had to know. He blurted out the question he had wanted to ask for ten years. “Why did you come to visit me? Day after day, when I did nothing except stare at the window, wishing I’d died in the accident, why did you come?”
“Because I wanted to,” Maggie said. Her eyes were distant, as if lost in memory. “I thought that if I could make you smile and laugh again, it would be worth something.”
Drew chuckled at the bittersweet memory. “You talked so much; I would have thrown you out of my room if I could get out of bed.”
Maggie giggled. “Probably just as well you couldn’t.”
“And reading aloud from the joke book? It was painful.”
She grimaced. “I didn’t know any jokes. I still don’t. You laughed, though. I know you did.”
“Not enough to justify reading the entire book aloud from cover to cover. Twice.”
“I read other books to you too.”
“Silhouette Romances don’t count.”
“Aww, come on. I should get partial credit for those, at least. What about the CDs and the video tapes I brought to you?”
“The music helped,” he conceded. “Especially during physical therapy.”
Maggie laughed. “You cursed a lot during PT. You don’t anymore.”
“What?”
“Your accident changed you. You became quieter, more restrained, harder to read.”
“Really?”
Maggie shrugged. “Well, it’s been ten years, so I guess the post-accident you is the real you now.”
“I didn’t realize—”
“How could something like that not change you?” Maggie asked. “Of course it would, and it did.”
And it had changed him for the worse. No wonder Maggie’s father had warned him to stay away from her. The knowledge wrenched him, but he tried to steer the conversation back to safe ground. “We should talk about your investments.”