Page 97 of Bossy Wicked Prince
Walsh and Daniels have been seen together outside of the office, and he’s reportedly introduced her to his infamous friends—poker champion Ryan Archer, Sequel CEO James Keller, restaurateur Beau Bishop, and Twisted Devil owner Luke Windsor.
Already, there are hundreds of likes and comments on the post. The top ones only make me feel more nauseous.
Welp, we knew all billionaires were predators. Textbook harassment.
Does she have anyone looking out for her? The power imbalance here isinsane.
He’s obviously a controlling piece of trash. He’s probably been grooming her for a long time.
Poor girl, she has no idea that he’s taking advantage of her.
I frown. “These commenters are nuts. They’re acting like Nate manipulated me into dating him, and I’m some helpless girl who didn’t know better. He’s not like that at all.”
“He’s not?” Pippa repeats uneasily. I glare at her.
“He’snot. Everything that’s happened between us was because I wanted it to. I would quit before I’d let someone bully me into a relationship, and you know that.”
She puts her hands up. “Fine. You’re right. Sorry, it’s just hard to turn off the protective friend mode when suddenly, your business is all over the internet.”
I feel the blood drain from my face. Because I doubt the Toronto Tea is the only place writing about us. I google my own name—which I’ve never done before. The results are horrifying.
As bad as the Toronto Tea post was, these are worse. Headlines call me a golddigger and an opportunist, even sayingImanipulatedNate.I feel untethered from reality. A few weeks ago, nobody cared who I was. Suddenly, I’m all over the news, famous for all the wrong reasons.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Pippa springs out of her seat and wraps her arms around me. “You didn’t do anything wrong. If you say Nate didn’t either, then I believe you. These people don’t know you, and they don’t get to judge you.”
“You’re right. I don’t know why I even care,” I mutter against her shoulder.
“Anyone would feel weird if a bunch of strangers were posting about them, kitty Cat. You’re totally normal, and handling this way better than I would, for the record.”
Just then, Brinley comes over with our drinks and a plate of cookies. She frowns when she sees us hugging. “Everything okay?”
“It will be,” Pippa says, giving me a final squeeze. “Especially now that there’s shortbread, huh?”
I shoot her a silent thank you. Brinley seems nice enough, but I don’t feel like explaining the whole blog situation to her right now.
My phone vibrates on the table, and I see Nate’s name on top. My stomach dips—first with excited anticipation, then with fear. I doubt he’s calling to ask me about my favorite donuts. He must have seen the blog post.
“I’m gonna take this outside,” I tell Pippa, showing her Nate’s caller ID. “Don’t need anyone listening in.”
“Go,” she says, taking one of my cookies and nibbling on it.
Outside, it’s still crisp and sunny. Two kids soar by, racing each other on their bicycles. An older woman in a green wool coat walks her beautiful Golden Retriever, who sniffs a pile of leaves. It feels wrong to be so upset on a day like today.
I pick up the phone. “Hi, Nate.”
“Hi, Kitten.” Hearing the name, I smile despite myself. “I wanted to check your schedule for the next few days.”
“I’m working at Terrace tonight and for brunch tomorrow, and work with you during the week, obviously. Why?”
“Could you get someone to cover your Terrace shifts from tomorrow till Wednesday? I’ve got a meeting in Paris, and I need you there with me.”
“Paris?” I squeak.
I can hear the smile in his voice. “I thought you’d be excited. I know my preferences about where I stay in Paris so I’ll handle booking everything myself. So, can you make it?”
But…I’m not excited. I’m being offered my dream trip, so I should be screaming for joy right now. The blog post has just left a bad taste in my mouth. I hate that the Toronto Tea badmouthed Nate, and everyone else wrote judgmental stuff aboutme.
Would Nate even invite me on this trip if he knew? Will he still want me there if I tell him?
