Page 32 of The Sexy Ex's Brother
She leans back, jaw tightening. “Okay.” Then, after a pause: “A gossip account posted something this morning. Just a blurry photo but enough to start a thread.”
The distance between us is subtle, but it’s there. A shift in the air.
I reach across the table, brushing her hand. “I meant what I said in the note.”
She looks at our hands, her fingers unmoving beneath mine. Then her gaze lifts, steady and searching. “I want to believe you.”
Her voice is quieter now. Raw.
“Then do,” I whisper, even though I can see the crack already forming.
She looks incredible tonight, shining eyes framed by lashes that still carry a trace of last night’s heat. Her blouse hugs the curve of her waist before disappearing beneath the table, and Ifind myself remembering how she felt beneath my hands, how she tasted when she whispered my name in the dark. My dick twitches. I shift in my seat, forcing the thoughts away, but her scent lingers, bergamot and skin and something distinctly hers that ruins my focus.
I want to pull her close again, remind her with my mouth what last night meant but the air between us is different now. She’s here, but not fully.
We step outside together. She raises her hand to hail a cab, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as headlights skim the curb. The city hums around us, but something in her is retreating.
I move to open the cab door for her just as it slows to a stop, fingers brushing hers again.
Before she gets in, she turns to me. “You’re not the only one with ghosts,” she says softly. “But if you keep yours buried, they’ll haunt us both.”
I nod once. It’s all I can manage.
She climbs in, then hesitates, her hand on the door. “Tell me next time,” she adds. “Before someone else does.”
Then she’s gone.
As the cab pulls away, I’m left on the sidewalk, lit in the pale gold of a city that never stops watching. Her absence hits fast, like a door shutting on something fragile and half-formed. I thought I could protect her by holding back the truth but all I’ve done is give it more power to hurt her.
Tomorrow, I make my move, before Derek does. Before this spirals further. I’m not losing her. Not again.
But just as I sit down to prepare myself, my phone vibrates.
A message from an old contact at theNew York Ledger, someone who owed me a favor once:Hey. Heads up. Your name’s about to hit print. Derek’s pushing a story aboutLondon. They’re running with it tomorrow unless you kill it fast.
My pulse spikes. I grip the phone tighter, the screen glowing in my hand like it’s lit with a fuse. The story hasn’t broken yet, but it’s coming. I lower the phone slowly and close my eyes.
I was going to tell her. God knows I wanted to but now I have to put out this fire first. I have to protect her from the worst of it before the blast hits. The truth can wait. It has to, because right now, damage control isn’t about me. It’s about shielding her from the wreckage Derek’s about to cause. But just as I stand, I hesitate. There’s one more option. One more person I haven’t spoken to in years. A fixer I swore I’d never owe again.
I scroll to his name: Leo Santiago.
I hit call.
“Jack Wilson,” he answers on the second ring, voice smooth as ever. “To what do I owe the honor?”
“I need a story killed. Fast. Discreetly. And I need to know what else Derek might be feeding the press.”
Leo whistles low. “Someone’s been busy.”
“You owe me, Leo.”
“That I do,” he replies. “Send me the details. I’ll call you in an hour.”
I hang up and exhale. This isn’t a favor. It’s a deal with the devil. But right now, the devil’s on my side.
19
IVY
