Page 83 of VOGUEish

The call ended before he could say fine. He’d dodged a bullet with her.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Chandler had a routine when it came to getting over life’s disappointments. He didn’t allow himself to think about them. Instead, he plowed into new ventures. Normally, ones that would make him a lot of money. When necessary, this was accompanied by copious amounts of whiskey during the evening hours.

Drunk him didn’t care if his life was a cluster. Or if his heart was broken.

And his getting-over-life’s-disappointments routine worked.

Or they had—until now. Now he was stuck in his condo hiding from the press. And try as he might, nothing made him stop thinking about Isabella.

You’d think a week would be plenty of time to get over someone who had made a fool out of you.

It wasn’t.

A knock at his door caused him to frown. Who had made it past the doorman? Then again, company might do him some good. Even if it was just a Girl Scout selling cookies. He swung the door open and immediately regretted the decision.

“I was wondering how long it would take you to man up and talk to me face to face,” he said to Grayson Summers.

“Shut up and listen.” Grayson walked inside and handed him a bottle of scotch.

“I’m all ears.”

“Does the name Amanda Goldstein ring a bell?” Grayson walked past him and took a seat in the living room.

Chandler snagged two tumblers and followed. “Yes. I fired her from Naked Runway. Why?”

“She outed you as Anonymous in NYC’s Pillar.”

Anger detonated inside of Chandler. “And you couldn’t be bothered to tell me?”

“I’m not the one she outed you to. She outed you to my boss, who demanded I run with the story before anyone else did. Amanda gave my boss an eight-hour window to get the word out before she said she would go elsewhere. I tried to contact you, and you didn’t answer.”

Chandler took the bottle of booze to his bar and set it down. “If Amanda knew, it’s because Isabella told her.” He took out two glasses and poured him and Grayson a shot.

“Who’s Isabella?”

“Anonymous in NYC. She works at Naked Runway.”

“That makes sense. I’ve been digging into it all week attempting to discover how Amanda came across the information.”

Chandler handed Grayson a glass and downed his own. “I’m listening.”

Grayson downed his. “While Amanda was still employed at Naked Runway, she probably tricked Isabella into letting her use her phone. According to my source, this is Amanda’s standard operating procedure. She borrows phones and places a bug in them. Then she uses anything she hears to blackmail you with if you cross her at some point.”

“I thought that shit only happened in the movies.”

“It doesn’t. Do you want me to sit on this or blast it?”

“All you have is a theory. A farfetched one, at that.”

“Are you the asshole you’ve been painted to be? Did you sleep with her and then dump her.”

Chandler rubbed the back of his neck. Yes. No. “It’s complicated.”

“Which means you’re in the wrong.”

“Fuck off.”

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