Page 92 of His Rules

She took a short breath, huffing it out seconds later. “What the fuck? Who are we talking about? Why is the press hounding you?”

Stephanie walked to her front window, peering out the blinds.

“I was careful when I drove here. I took the back roads, constantly searching the rearview mirror.”

“Talk to me. Now!”

Now she was shouting at me. Well, I couldn’t blame her at this point. I stopped short from where I’d been pacing her living room. “My dad and Sebastian. My dad started a fistfight this morning in the office.”

“What? Why?”

“You haven’t seen the morning edition of the paper?”

“Um, no. I was at work bright and early. Why?” She gave me her most pointed look.

Grousing, I yanked my phone from my purse where I’d tossed it on her couch and pulled up the horrible pictures. Well, they weren’t horrible. They were very expressive about how we felt about each other but to the rest of the world, they were considered damning. Especially when placed underneath the scathing headline.

Sebastian Winfield: Heir to a Throne and his Young Mistress

Mistress? I was no one’s mistress, but half the city still believed he was married.

As soon as I handed her the phone, she blew out hot air.

“Oh, dear God. Well, they’re good pictures of you.”

“Very funny,” I snapped in return. “They’re terrible. They dug into my past. They made our relationship seems sordid. It’s not that.”

“You know how reporters are.”

“Fuck them,” I hissed, more frustrated than before.

“I take it you didn’t have a chance to tell your father about him? I mean about the two of you. I mean… Oh, you know what I mean.”

“No, I was working up to it.” Now I was so angry with myself that I was too chicken. That wasn’t like me at all. “But there is no us. Sebastian made that pretty damn clear I wasn’t anything but a tool in his toolbox.”

“He said that?”

“Not in so many words, but I know what he was getting at. He was spouting off shit to my dad who was eating it up and tossing it back at him. What the hell is wrong with me? Why did my father need to jump in like some damn hero?”

“Because up to this point your father has been your hero. Think about it. He just wants what’s best for you.”

“I’m not nineteen any longer, Steph. I mean come on. I’m a grown woman.”

“A grown woman who came home because she was homesick.”

Now I glared at her. “That’s not the only reason why. I wanted a change. Hell, I was forced into one.”

“Let me get some wine. You need to calm down.” She immediately headed for the kitchen, but I trailed after her.

“What I need is to get revenge.”

“On who? You think someone put that photographer up to tracking the two of you down?” She grabbed an already openbottle of wine and two glasses, placing them on her kitchen table.

“That’s exactly what I think.”

“This calls for Doritos too.” She whipped out a bag, setting them beside the liquid libation.

I slumped down in a chair. “This is insane.”

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