by Maisey Yates
“Someone’s gone for me before,” Chelsea answered. “This time I’ll handle it.”
His mouth quirked up in a tiny smile but his eyes were still sad. “I don’t want you to be hurt.”
But I already am. “I told you, I want to do this. I don’t want men like Treffen getting away with it anymore. Too many men do.”
“Brian Taylor did,” Alex said softly and Chelsea gave him a bleak smile.
“He got eighteen months for assault.”
“And now he’s hosting his own cable show.”
“Seriously low-budget,” Chelsea told him with a tiny smile. “Local access only. Pathetic.”
Alex smiled, his eyes and teeth gleaming in the darkness. “If anyone can bring Treffen down, it’s you, Chelsea. Whatever else you think about me, please know I believe in you.”
She nodded, and her heart, shattered as she’d thought it was, broke all over again. She loved this man. But it wasn’t enough. He had to love her back just as much, just as hard, and she knew he didn’t.
* * *
Alex stared at Chelsea, at the grief he saw in her eyes, felt in his soul. It wasn’t enough. I believe in you wasn’t I love you. It wasn’t tearing down the barriers he’d erected around his heart, opening the floodgates to his soul.
He’d tried the other night, but he knew he was still holding back. He had to jump into that damn pool, not hover at the edge, dipping in a toe. But just like back at Walkerton Prep, he was afraid. He knew what happened when you told people your secrets. They let you drown.
And even though Chelsea hadn’t done that—yet—he still couldn’t force himself into the water. And he knew that’s what Chelsea wanted. Total truth. Complete commitment. Unconditional love. The real deal.
He didn’t know if he was capable of any of it, or even if he deserved those things, after Sarah. How many times did you fail someone before you decided not to try? Not to risk someone else’s heart, never mind your own?
Because he’d meant what he said. He didn’t want Chelsea to be hurt, and yet he knew he’d already hurt her.
“I’m glad you’re doing the interview,” he said. If he couldn’t give her everything, he’d at least give her this. “For your sake. Forget revenge, forget ratings. I’m glad you’re doing it because Treffen has done to dozens of women what Taylor did to you.”
Chelsea drew in a ragged breath, and he saw the denial in her eyes. Impulsively he reached for her hand; it was ice-cold in his.
“I know you don’t want to believe it. You can’t. You’re still clinging to the idea that it was all your choice. Maybe that makes you feel stronger somehow, more in control. And maybe it was your choice to offer yourself to Brian at that interview. But three years, Chelsea? With your past, your pain? It was abuse, pure and simple. It wasn’t your fault, or your stupidity, or whatever you convinced yourself it was.” He smiled sadly. “I wish I’d told you all this before.”
“I wouldn’t have believed it.”
“And now?”
“I—I don’t know.”
Alex squeezed her hand. “I know.”
She squeezed back, gave him a trembling smile. “You keep making me cry.”
“I want to make you smile. To laugh. I—I want you to be happy, Chelsea.” Say it, damn it. Just tell her you love her. Tell her everything you’re keeping back. How afraid you are of all of this. She probably knows, anyway. “I’m so proud of you, Chelsea.”
Coward.
She smiled, that confident, glittering Chelsea Maxwell smile, but this time there was heart and humor behind it. A real, live, wonderful woman, not just a perfect, polished persona. “Wait until you watch me kick Treffen’s ass.”
* * *
The Treffen Session, as it was being billed by the network, was being filmed on a closed set with high security, as Treffen had requested. There was no pink sofa, just two club chairs and a coffee table, a few tasteful prints and bookshelves with leather-backed books behind them, so it looked like the library of a stately home.
Chelsea sat in her dressing room as the makeup artist touched up her face. The hair on the nape of her neck prickled and nerves jumped and plunged in her belly.
“You look a little pale today,” Sonya said as she swept a bit more blusher across Chelsea’s cheekbones. “Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m fine.” Ten minutes ago she’d left her letter of resignation, admitting full culpability, on Michael’s desk. She knew he wouldn’t see it until the interview was finished.
She’d also met Treffen briefly before he’d been taken away to be prepped by stylists. He’d shaken her hand and looked at her with those cold, shrewd eyes and it had taken nearly all of her strength to shake his hand back with a professional yet friendly firmness, give him a brisk smile as if everything was going according to plan—to his plan.
I think this is going to be a very good show, he’d said, and Chelsea had heard the arrogance in that statement. He thought he was untouchable. She’d realized a while back that the only likely reason Treffen had agreed to be interviewed was because he needed to do some damage control. Polish that spotless reputation.
Not a chance.
Absolutely, she’d told him, smiling in the flirty way she knew he liked. I think it’s going to be fabulous.
“Ten minutes until air, Chelsea.”
She nodded, everything inside her buzzing with both adrenaline and anxiety. No panic attacks now. She couldn’t mess this up. She had Zoe Brook styled and made up, ready to go. It had taken some doing, bringing both Zoe and Katy Michaels onto the set without alerting anyone. She’d cleared them as personal friends and she and Katy had helped Zoe with her hair and makeup. Now Zoe and Katy were hiding out in an unused dressing room, trying to avoid seeing Treffen.
Chelsea only hoped it all went to plan, that Zoe would be able to walk onto the set when she called her. If security prevented it, or her producer Miles or even Michael himself got wind of what was going down and pulled the plug...
Well, she’d just have to go for it, for as long as she could. She just hoped it was long enough.
“I think you’re ready,” Sonya said, and Chelsea gave her a quick smile.
“Thank you,” she said, “for everything.”
Sonya looked a little startled and Chelsea knew better than to say anything more. After ten years this would be her last day at AMI, but she couldn’t alert anyone to that fact. She couldn’t make anyone suspicious.
Taking a deep breath, she walked out onto the set and took her place in one of the club chairs.
Sound and light technicians were still running around, running checks and calling out to each other. Treffen was nowhere to be seen; it was five minutes until air.
She’d miss all of this, she thought as she looked around. She’d miss the buzz of live TV and the excitement of conducting interviews. She’d miss the way she engaged with people on her show, because sometimes it had felt like the most human connection she had in her life.
But that would change, because she was changing—or trying to. Maybe it wouldn’t be with Alex, but she’d find happiness with someone, someday.
Why did that thought hurt so much?
Just then Treffen walked onto the stage, looking as coiffed and charming as always. Chelsea rose from her seat to shake his hand and he smiled back, all easy charm, but his eyes still looked cold and shrewd. The eyes of a snake. She couldn’t believe she’d never seen it before, not until Alex had told her. Alex had opened her up to so much, so much pain and beauty and joy and love.
“Two minutes.”
Chelsea sat back down, glanced down at the cards with Treffen’s printed questions. Tell me about your humanitarian works.
As if.
“One minute.”
Treffen sat completely still as one of the sound technician fiddled with his mike, and they ran a last sound check before they went live. Chelsea’s heart was thundering so hard she could barely hear her own voice; it hurt her chest.
Th
en as the seconds counted down and the light that indicated filming was imminent started flashing, Chelsea felt herself go very still, very cold with purpose. She felt the eyes of all the assistants and technicians on her, Treffen’s eyes on her, and knew there were three men standing in the wings who desperately wanted this to work. Alex, Austin, and Hunter all wanted to be there when Treffen went down.
If he went down. If she could actually make it happen.
She adjusted her mike, glanced offstage and saw Alex standing in the shadows. Panic lurched through her because if Treffen saw him...
But then he smiled at her and there was so much confidence and trust in his eyes that she nearly choked up. She’d tell him she loved him, she decided suddenly. She’d say the words, even if he couldn’t say them back. It was important, to her at least, that he know.
She smiled faintly back, and then the intro music started and the light went to green.
Chelsea Maxwell and Jason Treffen were on the air.
Chapter Fifteen
Alex’s nails dug into his palms as the intro music faded and Chelsea began the interview. He’d met up with Hunter and Austin at the front of the building, saw how tight their faces looked, how terse their greetings.
Everything rode on the next hour.
He might have told Chelsea it didn’t matter, that he didn’t care about having his revenge, and for her sake he was trying to make that true. But damn if he didn’t want to see Treffen go down in a big ball of flames. And he wanted Chelsea to be the one to light the match.
“Do you really think she can do this, Alex?” Austin had asked in a low voice as they made their way to the recording studio. Alex had, by pulling a dozen different strings, arranged for VIP passes.
“I know she can.”
“She won’t chicken out?”
“No.” And he believed that. He believed, a hundred percent, heart and soul, in Chelsea. Too bad he was too much of a chicken shit to tell her that he loved her. That he wanted the real deal, too, even if it scared him senseless.
Now he focused on the interview taking place in front of him.
“Jason, I’m so delighted to have the opportunity to interview you tonight,” Chelsea said. Her voice was as warm and rich as melted chocolate, her smile engaging, her manner relaxed. Alex knew how tightly wound she must be, and his heart swelled with pride.
“It’s a pleasure to be here, Chelsea.”
“I doubt there’s a person in all of the United States who doesn’t know of the work you’ve done, and the causes you’ve supported. You’ve been championing the causes of the oppressed for over two decades.”
Jason preened a little bit, and next to him Alex felt Austin tense. Hunter’s fists clenched. “It’s been my life’s work, Chelsea.”
“Let’s talk a little bit about what first drew you to it,” Chelsea said, and Alex caught Hunter’s penetrating stare. So far Chelsea was going by the book, but Alex knew that’s what she did. She eased her guests into a sense of security and intimacy, so they’d share all the more.
And Jason was going to share, whether he wanted to or not.
“When I first started practicing law,” Treffen began, obviously settling in to talk about himself for a while, “women didn’t have nearly as many opportunities as they do now. There were no female partners in my law firm, and very few women lawyers. It just didn’t happen.” He made a face of regret that Alex thought looked ridiculous but people always seemed to buy.
Chelsea nodded slowly, seeming to drink it all in. “And how did you change that, Jason?”
“I set about recruiting promising young women to work in my firm. To give them the opportunities they deserved and had earned.”
Next to him Austin looked ready to explode. Alex felt his own latent rage start a familiar surge. The arrogant deception Jason had been enacting for so long was diabolical.
“If they deserved these opportunities,” Chelsea said with a faint, puzzled frown, “and were qualified to work as lawyers, I’m not sure I see how magnanimous that is. After all, you’re just not showing prejudice.” She smiled sweetly as Jason’s eyes narrowed. That astute observation was clearly not part of the script. “I know you’ve done so much more, Jason. No need to be modest now.” She threw the cameras a smile, inviting every viewer in with that knowing look. “The world wants to hear about you.”
Jason relaxed slightly. “Well, I suppose you’re right, Chelsea, although I never looked at it that way before. Giving these women opportunities they deserved—even though no one else would—might not seem like much of a humanitarian effort.” He gave a rather smug smile. “But I’ve also set up scholarship funds for girls from disadvantaged areas—”
“I think,” Chelsea interjected sweetly, “you mean young women.”
The air seemed to crackle. “Is that what we call someone who is seventeen years old?” Jason joked, but Alex could tell he was furious. “Sorry. This old man’s not always up on the PC terms.”
“Understandable,” Chelsea murmured. “But it’s really about how you view someone, isn’t it?” Jason stared at her, nonplussed, and Chelsea leaned forward as if inviting a confidence. “Why don’t we talk about Sarah Michaels?”
Jason froze, if only for a second. Alex had to admire the man’s control. If the camera hadn’t cut to him just then, no one would have noticed that moment’s pause, the quick blink.
“Sarah Michaels,” he repeated neutrally.
“You do recall the young woman who worked for you ten years ago?” Chelsea’s voice was soft with sorrow. “She killed herself by throwing herself from the roof of your building.”
A whisper ran backstage like wildfire. Alex imagined it running through the whole world, millions of people now glued to their televisions. And he knew how wrong he’d been to want to suppress Sarah’s part in this, to hide it because he was hiding himself. She deserved this vindication.
Jason had gone utterly still, his body still deliberately relaxed, his expression inscrutable. “Of course I remember Sarah.” He shook his head. “Such a tragedy.”
“Yes, it was,” Chelsea agreed. She shook her head, looking down, seeming lost in sorrow for a moment before she glanced up and nailed Treffen with a look as hard as granite, as cold as ice. “And entirely preventable.”
Jason gave her a tight-lipped smile. “Suicide is always preventable, I believe.”
Chelsea inclined her head. “Not the most compassionate of views, but I do see what you mean.”
“I felt very sorry for Sarah,” Jason said, seeming to realize how cold his comment had sounded. “Very sorry for her family. She was, in fact, a close friend of my son’s. We all grieved.” He stared straight at Chelsea as he said it, and even Alex could see the warning in the older man’s eyes.
Don’t go there, his gaze was telling Chelsea. Don’t go there, or I will take you down.
“And the reason for her suicide?”
Treffen didn’t blink as he continued to stare steadily at Chelsea. “Obviously she was a troubled young woman. She was dating Hunter Grant, the former NFL quarterback?” He lifted his eyebrows, inviting Chelsea and everyone watching into his implication. “I don’t imagine that was a happy relationship.”
Hunter half started forward and Austin checked him with his arm. A growl emerged low from his throat.
“Bastard.”
“Just wait,” Austin murmured.
“I don’t know about the complexities of her relationship with Hunter,” Chelsea said with a thoughtful nod. “But I did speak to Katy Michaels, Sarah’s sister, and she seemed to think you were involved in her sister’s suicide, Jason.”
Behind him Alex could hear production assistants whispering furiously to each other.
“What the hell—”
“Cut to commercial?”
He tensed, and then saw someone senior hold up a warning hand. Wait.
They were going to see what Chelsea would do with this. It made good television, after all. Good ratings.
“I really have no idea what you’re talking about, Chelsea,” Jason said. His voice was pitched just right, between perplexity and sorrow. “As I said, I felt very sorry for Sarah. And suicide is always so painful for those left behind. I imagine Katy feels the need to blame someone, and I can see how I’m the likely target.”
“Why would you be the likely target, Jason?” Chelsea asked, her voice all honeyed sympathy.
“My law firm demanded a great deal of young people. Long hours, an intense work ethic, demanding cases. It might be that Sarah cracked under the pressure.” He spread his hands, all wry regret. “It happens.”
“It does happen,” Chelsea agreed. “But I’m afraid that’s not what Katy told me.”
Jason’s eyes narrowed slightly. “She’s a troubled young woman, Chelsea. I wouldn’t pay attention to what she says.” His voice was pleasant, his words so obviously a warning.
“It’s hard not to take an allegation like hers seriously,” Chelsea answered. “Do you want to know what she’s accusing you of?” She spoke just as pleasantly as he did, and her words were just as clearly a challenge.
Jason held her gaze for a moment, and Alex knew he was debating whether to suppress it entirely or ride it out. Which would be the better tactic? Finally he let out a little laugh. “I’m not sure I do. Whatever it is, it’s completely unfounded and most likely quite nasty.”
She had him on the run, that was for sure, Alex thought, and his heart swelled with pride.
“It is nasty, Jason. But I’d like to hear from you how unfounded it is. And of course you can’t answer any allegations, when you’re not aware of what they are.” Chelsea held his gaze, and Alex saw how stony Jason looked now, his jaw tight.
“As I’m sure you know, Chelsea, malicious gossip always swirls about famous people. People like me—or you.”
Alex could hear the implied threat in Jason’s voice, and he knew Chelsea heard it, too. Damn, what did that bastard know about her?
“Oh, trust me, I know that, Jason,” Chelsea assured him. “Which is why I’d like to get this cleared up tonight.”