“Nice,” I say dryly.
Tyler opens the door of his rental car and I get in. “Where are we going?” he asks.
“3A Juniper Avenue.”
“Hang on. Oh, yes. Got it. I know exactly where I’m going.”
I hit him in the arm. “I’ll direct you. Now let’s go.”
“Where are we going, exactly?”
“Right. Now left. That’s it.”
“Day.”
“I know who sold me out.”
“Ah.”
***
The elevator in Lori’s apartment block is broken, so I climb the stairs, thanking myself for putting on flats instead of my usual heels. I’m not thanking the seven flights of stairs, I admit.
I bang on the door and fidget while I wait for her to answer. I knock again, and I hear her call, “One minute!”
I take a deep breath, trying to rein in the annoyance running rife through me. Screaming at her won’t do any good.
She opens the door and her eyes widen when she sees me. “Dayton. What a surprise.”
“I’d imagine it is. Can I come in?”
“I don’t—”
“Thanks.” I squeeze past her and look around her apartment. You wouldn’t look at this place and believe she was the lowest earner on Monique’s books. “Nice place.”
“Thanks.” She closes the door softly.
“How much did you have to sell me out for to pay for it?”
Lori draws in a sharp breath. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t treat me like I’m stupid, Lori.” I turn to her, my hands on my hips, and pierce her with my gaze. She freezes. “I know for a fact you told Naomi everything about me.”
She says nothing, but she pulls her gaze from mine and looks at the floor.
“I’ll take your silence as an admission. Why would you do that, Lori? Why the f**k would you go and break the unwritten rule we all lived by? We weren’t friends, but we weren’t enemies either.”
“You had everything.” She looks at me again, her eyes harder than a moment ago. “You had f**king everything. The big clients. The biggest cut for Monique at the end of the week. You coasted through life without as much as a damn pimple on your chin.”
“And that’s a reason to sell my life story to my boyfriend’s jealous, manipulative ex-wife, right? So she can blackmail me into paying her the money she didn’t get from their divorce?” I raise my eyebrows, and her face whitens. “Oh, she didn’t tell you that. I didn’t think she would have.”
“Fuck. I-I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want your apology, Lori. You’ve f**ked everything—for yourself as well. Did you think you wouldn’t be found out? What do you really stand to gain from this?”
“I was in debt. She offered me enough to pay it all off and then some.”
I don’t have it in me to feel bad. I just can’t feel an ounce of sympathy or pity for her.
“I hope it was worth it, and I hope you truly thought through what you were doing. You haven’t just put my identity and Stone Advertising at risk. You’ve put your own life and Monique’s business at risk, too. It wouldn’t take much to link me back to Monique.”
“Naomi said that wouldn’t happen.”
“Naomi is a lying bitch, Lori. She can’t control what happens when she sells the story, what digging journalists do. And she has, by the way, sold the story, and now I’m trying to do damage control. Aaron has one hundred other things he needs to be doing, but because you decided I was worth a few thousand dollars, he’s busting his ass trying to make this right. I hope you’re proud of yourself. You can expect a call from Monique later tonight.”
“Wait, what?”
I open her front door. “Do you honestly think she’ll keep you on her books after this? You’ve put every single one of us at risk of exposure, and in some cases, you’ve put us in genuine danger. Angry wives are ruthless, as evidenced by the woman who put us here.”
She pales even further. “Fuck. I didn’t think,” she whispers.
“Evidently f**king not.” I step through the door then pause and look over my shoulder. “And, Lori?”
“Yeah?”
“If this story breaks, if my whole life is splashed over the pages of some sleazy tabloid, you can bet your damn life I’ll be slapping a lawsuit on your ass.”
Her eyes widen.
“And as much as you know about my life, I probably know a lot more about yours. If I go down, I’m sure as hell taking you with me.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
I push the door to Aaron’s office open and look around it. He’s leaning forward on the desk, one hand in his hair, a phone to his ear.
“Every one, yes. Make it clear that, if they print it, we’ll be coming down on them with the force of a f**king avalanche… Yes… Thank you, Alexander. Email them over tonight and I’ll take a look. Then we’ll send them out… Perfect. Goodnight.”
He puts the phone down and sighs heavily. He spins in the chair and slowly runs his eyes up my bare legs to the hem of his shirt skimming my thighs. After taking the rest of me in, they find my eyes. There’s none of the expected heat in them.
Just love.
“Come here,” he mutters, holding his arms out.
I cross the room and curl onto his lap, resting my head on his shoulder. His arms go around me securely, holding me against him, and he buries his face alongside mine.
“That didn’t sound good,” I whisper.
“There are several other presses who have the story. Naomi sold it to both paper and digital outlets, hoping we’d miss one. I believe she planned to have you exposed regardless of her receiving the money.”
I shiver. “What are you sending to them?”
“Lawsuits,” he mumbles into my neck, sweeping his lips across my skin. “They’re being warned of what will be handed to them if they publish the story. Alexander Carlisle Jr. is the best lawyer in Seattle. He’ll f**k them so hard they won’t have a choice but to not run it.”
“Alexander Carlisle?”
Why does that sound familiar?
“Do you know him?”
I sit up and bite my lip. I know I do… But where? How? I gasp. “Oh shit.”
This could get awkward very quickly.
“Day?”
“I can’t believe I didn’t make the connection before. Um.” I laugh nervously. “Do you remember that night you were outside my house? When you pinned me to the door and kissed the shit out of me?”