TM: Well, it’s no secret you accepted the presents he gave you, and there were pictures of the two of you kissing. . . .
AA: Yes, and while all of that is true, it still wasn’t quite as . . . intense . . . as people like to assume.
TM: Meaning?
AA: Meaning, Ryan and I never slept together. I was a virgin the entire time I was with him.
Ryan gripped the transcript so tightly Aster could hear the paper crumple in protest. “Is this true?” He stared at her bug-eyed.
Aster focused hard on the road before her. She was working from memory—a memory that was foggy at best. While she couldn’t remember anything about arriving at the apartment, she remembered leaving it all too well. And yet, the sting of shame had been so strong, she’d grabbed a cab and gotten the hell out of there as quickly as possible without once looking back.
If only she had the luxury of not looking back now.
How was she to know that the one night she couldn’t recall would end up being the basis for her entire defense?
Between the diary entries Layla had received, Madison’s numerous lies about her past, and the odd mix of people she’d kept on her payroll, there were a lot of moving parts, none of which seemed to connect. Though Aster was determined to prove they fit nicely together, at the moment it was like having all the corners and edges of a puzzle but not a single piece to fill in the center.
Her first task was to retrace her steps that fateful night, beginning with locating the mystery apartment. Though Ryan had insisted on joining her, she drew the line at letting him drive. She needed the time behind the wheel, needed to feel in control of when and where she was going. She’d given Ryan the transcript in a bid to keep him occupied. At the time, she hadn’t given much thought to its contents and how it might affect him. Now that he had, she realized she would’ve been better off waiting for it to air later that night.
“I guess I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think it mattered.” Defiantly, Aster lifted her chin and focused on Ryan. His expression was grim.
“C’mon, Aster, at least give me the benefit of the truth. A girl as beautiful as you doesn’t lack for opportunity—if you chose to remain a virgin this long, then clearly, it was important to you.”
She exhaled deeply, wishing she could shut her eyes and block him out completel
y, but the bumper-to-bumper LA traffic wouldn’t allow it. “Most of my friends couldn’t wait to get on with it, like it was some kind of burden they were desperate to be rid of. But I didn’t see it that way. I wanted it to matter—to mean something more than just some crazy night with a boy I felt nothing for.” She stole a glance at him. “That night at Night for Night, I was ready to go through with it. I’d convinced myself you were the one. Turns out I was wrong.” When she dared to look at him, she found his expression so bereft it made her heart squeeze in spite of herself.
Her spine straightened, her shoulders stiffened. She needed to do whatever it took to defend against the conflicting emotions his mere presence incited. Ryan is an actor—he’s not to be trusted. The phrase had become like a mantra she continuously repeated.
Ryan studied the transcript. “You say here that the entire time you were with me you were a virgin—does that mean you’re not anymore?”
“What the hell does it matter?” She punched the brake at a red light and silently fumed as the car pitched forward and her gaze caught on yet another billboard featuring Madison’s face.
“If it was your choice—your conscious choice and your conscious consent—then it’s absolutely none of my business, you’re right. But Aster, if someone assaulted you, then that’s a very different scenario.”
“You already know about the video,” she snapped. “So draw your own conclusions.” The second the light turned green, she pressed hard on the gas and shot out of the intersection. There was nothing like driving for blowing off steam.
“You said you were alone in the video.”
“Well, clearly someone was holding the camera.” She rolled her eyes and turned up the radio to drown out his voice. Ryan was seriously starting to get on her nerves.
“You need to tell someone.”
She shrugged, in no mood to discuss it.
“I mean like your attorneys, or the police, or even your parents.”
“No!” The word came out more forceful than she intended, but she was seriously regretting her decision to tell him. More than anyone, her parents could never know. And if she told the police or her attorney, then they’d confiscate the DVD so they could introduce it at trial, and no good would come of that. When it came to sexual assault, people loved to blame the victim, and unfortunately, slut shaming was all too real. If her parents found out, it would destroy them in a way from which they’d never recover. She’d caused them enough pain already—she refused to add any more.
Ryan flashed his palms in surrender and settled back in his seat. Aster was sure that was the end of it until he piped up again. “I’m just saying if you were assaulted, then you need to get checked by a physician.”
It was all she could do to keep from screaming in frustration. She needed to focus, needed to locate some kind of landmark telling her she was on the right path. But with Ryan going on the way he was, it was nearly impossible. Through gritted teeth she glared at him and said, “And what good would it do? That was weeks ago. Besides, what are they going to do—conduct a virginity test?”
“Aster.” He placed a hand on her arm, but the way she flinched in response saw him quickly retract. “I know a doctor who can help. She has a large celebrity clientele and knows how to keep the press away. Look, I don’t want to cross any boundaries, and I apologize if this is coming off all wrong, or offending you in any way. It’s just . . . well, I’m worried about you, and I want you to know that I’m here to help in any way I can.”
Aster closed her eyes, but only for a moment. She was way beyond shutting out the sort of things she wasn’t ready to face. It was time to put that particular game to rest. Besides, she needed to take steps toward reclaiming her memories and clearing her name. Maybe seeing a doctor would help in some way.
“Also . . .” He shot her a tentative look. “From everything you’ve said, it sounds like someone drugged you. You only drank half your champagne and you can’t remember a thing. I drained the bottle while waiting for you to return, and I was fine.”