Page 42 of King of Guilt

What in hell’s broken name was happening here?

twenty

Far Beyond the Word

Dean

From the moment Emma and I were driven out of my calm street and into the city, we could see that New York was celebrating its Valentine’s Day fever with the utmost zeal. The color red covered nearly everything, and the letters ‘LOVE’ and the cartoonish, glittery shape of the heart had taken over the streets.

In the backseat, Emma silently stared out through the tinted window, while I quietly watched her. I wondered what she was thinking, how she was feeling, and what she wished I would have done on this day.

Unfortunately—and the misery of it wasn’t lost on me—I had booked us catering for dinner at the house. That way, hushed words would travel from tongue about how Dean Allen and his new bride celebrated behind closed doors. It gave our little secret an intimate air, without us having to be social or create a performance for the prying eyes of the public. Neither one of us was in the mood to serve their whims; we had our own perplexity to mull over.

Before my first meeting, I furrowed my eyebrows as I read over the cryptic email that our PR Director had sent me the night before. It addressed some ‘scandal’, and I was only halfway through reading it when the door flailed open. It was him, the PR Director, marching in with a concerned look on his face. Emma followed him in only by a couple of steps before he turned to her and said, “Mrs. Allen, I’d prefer if you weren’t here for this.”

“What is it, Jefferson?” I asked. Emma quickly withdrew, closing the door behind her.

“Haven’t you read my email?”

“Barely. What’s going on?”

“Someone put a word out there that your marriage to Emma isn’t real.” He sat down, huffing and shaking his head. “Did you pay her to do it, Dean?”

“What?”

“The teams didn’t sleep last night. They tracked down the origin of the rumor, and it’s from the public account of Kyle Savant. Does it ring any bells?”

I had to admit to myself that I hadn’t seen that one coming. How would Emma’s ex know about this, unless she herself had told him? Blinking quickly, I said, “This is clearly defamation.”

“And the public loves dirt. Do you know that man or not?”

“He’s Emma’s ex. He’s been trying to get back with her, but our marriage clearly put an end to any hopes he might have had.”

“Sure.” He shrugged. “But your marriage came as a surprise to everyone, and the fact that Mrs. Allen passed away within the week didn’t help.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that legal sex for money is frowned upon, even for people like you. I recommend you let our team handle it asap.”

“No.” I sternly said. “I’ll handle it.”

“You?”

“It’s my marriage. My wife. My problem. This has nothing to do with the company, and nobody but me is fit to respond.”

“Y—You’re not a journalist, Dean. With all due respect—”

“I said I’ll handle it,” I insisted. “You’ll have my statement ready for release within the hour.” Jefferson sighed heavily with a look on his face that screamed, ‘I think this is a mistake.’ As a response, I added, “You’re right. I’m no journalist, no writer. Whatever I put in there will be a thousand times more believable than anything your team will come up with.”

“Fine.” He shot up standing, looking away as he adjusted his tie. “Share it with me when you’re done with it. I’ll have them—”

“No editing,” I commanded. “You’ll disseminate whatever I send you as is for publishing.”

“For whatever my opinion’s worth… that’s very risky, Dean.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“I really hope so.”

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