Page 62 of Keeping The Virgin

Chapter 21

I runto the bathroom and vomit, and when I’m done, I cling to the toilet, crying uncontrollably.

With those pictures and videos out there, my life is over. My family, friends, and everyone else in the whole world are going to laugh at me and shun me.

Nowhere to hide now…

Then it hits me that Cage is also going to see everything.

A totally irrational emotion overwhelms me—bitterness. Will he believe that Liam was blackmailing me now? Will he feel like a jackass because he doubted me when I told him about it?

But the bitterness makes me choke, both because it’s wrong and because I’m literally tasting my bile as I drag myself from the toilet to my sink. I’m still sobbing, but it’s not only because of the porn site now. At some point, Igor Vasiliev will become aware that I, the budding porn star, am the same woman in the society column pictures with Cage.

I was a part of the lie that got Cage the deal with him.

Will he stop doing business with Bryant Industries because of me?

I run the water in the sink, rinsing out my mouth, slumped over the counter while my weeping intensifies.

What the hell do I do now that the damage is done? I can’t call Cage to apologize. And I sure can’t call my friends who have no idea what I was doing over the summer.

The only person I can think to contact is my sister Lacey, who isn’t so perfect herself. Once upon a time, she went through a rough relationship with a man who turned out to be married, and even through her grief and mortification, I was there for her, never judging, only comforting.

But this isn’t even on the level of what she went through. This is a worldwide freak show compared to her private, honest mistake.

I stay in that bathroom for a long time. An hour? More? I’m not sure, but with every minute that passes, I know that I need to do something, and maybe I can trust Lacey to not only confide in but to give me some advice.

Boy, do I need some advice…

I don’t know if I can calm myself down enough to make a phone call, so I text her on my computer instead.

Lacey, I need to show you something. I am SCREWED.

She answers right away.

What’s wrong, Kar? Whatever it is, we can work it out.

See? I’ve made the right choice with her, and I gulp away the thick saliva in my throat and type faster.

Promise you won’t tell?

Promise.

I exhale then take the harrowing dive.

A guy posted pics of me to a porn site.

I include the links and hold my breath, waiting for her to freak out.

She doesn’t for a few minutes, and every ticking second knocks away at the strength I thought I had.

When my phone rings with Lacey’s delicate music box ringtone, I startle. It sounds like a warped horror movie soundtrack to me, and I’m dreading what will happen if I answer.

But I have to.

“Lacey?” I sob.

“Hah hah, Karini,” she says. “This is really funny. What kind of sick joke are you playing?”

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