Page 115 of Worth Every Game

I’m beset by the need to hug him.Thank fuck.

“Can you transfer the money to Jack? I don’t want anything to do with it. I want to forget about the whole damn thing.”

My chest aches.Am I lying?What if the only thing I ever have left to remember my entire relationship with Jack is this damn car?

This damn car, and a ruined reputation.

I become aware that Seb is staring at me, a contemplative look on his face. “You must be angry at Lydia, eh?”

Her name is so unexpected in this context, during this conversation, that I recoil. “Why?”

Seb looks uncomfortable, and I suspect he regrets raising this topic. “The photos. What she did was awful. God, I feel sorry for you.”

My internal organs are imploding, shame crushing my insides.I don’t want to talk about the photos.It’s an effort to conceal the violence of my reaction, but I need to understand what the hell he’s talking about. “What exactly did she do?”

Seb searches my gaze for some sign that I already know, but when he doesn’t find it, his eyes widen. “Shit.” He exhales a low sound. “Jack didn’t speak to you?”

I shake my head, then remember the messages that came in from him last night and this morning. The flood of them, all unread, his calls all unanswered on my phone.

“Did he say something to you?” My voice sounds thready and my pulse is hammering. My legs feel like they’re made of water.

“He came to see me in the office. He was worked up. Determined to try and work out how those photos were leaked. He had all sorts of questions about Lydia. Whether I’d been with her the night of the fundraiser.” He tosses his head to make his hair fly off his forehead. It immediately falls right back where it was. “I was, but… not that way. She was only interested in Jack.”Of course she fucking was.“Anyway, she had these photos shewas looking at. She was totally distracted. I thought it was porn—” He breaks off, catching himself, cringing at what he’s said. “Sorry.”

His story has me hooked, and my shame has taken a backseat to the intrigue. I wave a hand to dismiss his concerns. “Go on.”

“It was your photos. The ones Jack took of you. She’d stolen them from his phone at some point in the evening. As soon as he realised, he bolted out of my office like a prize-racehorse. Never seen him move so fast.” Seb pauses. “He really didn’t call you?”

“He did… but I didn’t answer. He left a bunch of messages.”

A beat of silence passes, during which I feel every ounce of Seb’s judgment.

“Go listen to them.” He rests a hand on his hip and exhales loudly. “This is none of my business, but I’ve never seen Lansen this cut up over someone. What went down with your photos was shit. Really fucking shit. But Jack’s not entirely to blame, and you should listen to what he has to say.” He turns back to the car, signalling that the conversation is over, even though for me it’s just begun. I am buzzing with this knowledge. “I’ll take the car,” he adds, holding up a finger to indicate I wait, then pulls his phone from his pocket to make a call, I assume to clear the money with the bank or something, but my hand whips out and grips his wrist.

He stares in shock at where my fingers are clamped around his sleeve.

“Sorry. No. The car’s not for sale.” The words are tumbling out of me. “I made a mistake. I can’t do it. I can’t sell it. I’m going to keep it.”

Seb tugs his arm from my grip and I let go. “Jesus, you and Lansen need to sort your shit out. The two of you are wasting my fucking time.” He shakes his head, but I catch a hint of a smile and he winks as he adds, “Give him a kiss from me, won’t you?”

Still shaking his head, he walks away, and when he’s gone, I open my phone. My knees feel unstable, but I force myself to stay upright as I scroll through the messages. A lot of them are just missed calls, but on a few of them he’s left voice messages.

I listen to them one by one.

Fuck, El. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I should have deleted the photos when you asked. I should have got rid of them. I never, ever, imagined anything like this would happen.

What can I do, El? What can I do to make this up to you?

I need to talk to you.

El, please, call me back.

I don’t recognise the sound of his voice. He sounds so serious, broken almost.What have I done to him?

Finally, I open the voice memo and listen to Jack’s exchange with Lydia, and when I get to the end, I have only one thought.

That fucking bitch.

40

---