Page 137 of Brutal Obsession

The one that “broke” the story of me driving drunk, and how easily it was swept under the rug. They included a picture of me leaving the police precinct with a ball cap pulled low, obscuring my face. One of Dad’s bodyguards was guiding me toward the car.

My father was fighting to pass a bill, and he was constantly in the news. That’s why the paparazzi were at the restaurant that night. They were probably tipped off that a Devereux—the name on the reservation—was dining that evening, and they showed up to find me.

I didn’t used to be a heavy hitter in the paper. I didn’t sell copies like Dad.

Still don’t, if we’re being perfectly clear. There are a lot bigger fish to fry in Rose Hill.

There was also a photo of Violet. They didn’t give her much print space. She was used more to invoke anger toward the Devereux name. They said her career as a prima ballerina was ripped away. I find that paragraph and read it again.

Violet Reece, a rising star in the ballet scene, had a promising career as a prima ballerina. Unfortunately, she’ll never get the chance to dance again. Mr. Devereux’s careless driving has ripped that away from her—and he won’t face any consequences for his actions.

Something gives in my chest. A sort of pressure releasing.

Well, shewillhave her career.

We’re going to make sure that happens.

The first time I read it, I was pissed. It appeared in physical print. Dad tried to squash it, but there wasn’t much he could do after it caught fire. Online media outlets picked it up and ran with it, and all eyes were on me.

And then… it fizzled. Like all things eventually do.

Once that happened, it was easy to get it removed from searches and from people’s memories. There’s always something new and flashy that comes along and diverts attention.

I’ve reread it a few times since, if only to remind myself of what can happen if I’m not careful.

But then my eye catches on the second to last paragraph, and I pause.

Though the world will soon forget Greyson Devereux’s role as the antagonist of Ms. Reece’s life, she has supporters who won’t. The ballet community stands behind her.

No shit.

I squint at the screen and contemplate jostling her awake. She seems peaceful, though. And it’s late.

Hunches and theories can wait until the morning.

My mind spins, though. Does she have supporters who would bring my past out of the woodwork? Does she have superfans who would… do anything for her?

And how mad would they be that she’s with me?

I hug her tighter to my side.

I’m worrying for nothing… or so I hope.

41

VIOLET

Something is wrong. I reach for Grey—he’s reverted back to that in my mind, seemingly overnight—but his side of the bed is cold. There’s a dent in his pillow where his head was, but he’s gone.

Instead of just assuming he went to the bathroom, I sit up. My stomach somersaults. I grab one of his t-shirts and slide his sweatpants over my hips, because if I’m going searching for him, I sure as hell don’t want to run into one of his roommates half-naked.

So… dressing in his clothes seemed like the better option.

I quickly scrub at my teeth with my finger and toothpaste in the hall bathroom, then follow the sounds to the kitchen. I pause on the last step and try to hear what two voices are saying.

“I think she has a stalker,” Greyson says.

My eyebrows shoot up.

---