“Finally, you pick up,” she exclaims.
“What’s going on? Been on a tour all day, my phone was turned off.”
“Great. I take it you haven’t seen the photo? The article?”
“What photo? What article?”
She talks so fast, it’s hard to keep up, but I do my best, swearing in between.
“I don’t get it. They’ve got a photo of what? Nothing happened.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Daniel. You’re a veteran at this. The press spins everything around. They’ve got a picture of me hanging around your neck when you were bringing me back to the hotel, half passed out. Light’s crappy, so is the angle. Looks like we’re kissing.”
I groan, dragging a hand down my face. How the hell did this happen? My stomach sinks. Has Caroline seen this? Did she believe it? Fuck.
“Beatrix, I got to go. Need to make an important call.”
“Grant and I will be making a statement about this. You might get a bit of hate email from his fans, but—”
“I’ll deal with it. But I need to go right now. I have something important to do.”
As soon as the call disconnects, I look up the article online. My entire body tenses, then relaxes again. The photo doesn’t look too damning to me, but that might be because I was there and know what happened. Will Caroline believe me? I don’t have much in my defense except my word.
Rumors about myself never bothered me, unless they could hurt my family. I’ve always focused on killing fake stories about my brothers. Since Logan and Sebastian are something close to golden boys, the made-up rumors about them are especially vicious. Just last month, a local trashy magazine was about to publish a “story” about Logan having another family. Blake and I called in about one hundred favors so it would never come out. Sebastian says fighting these things is futile. Maybe he’s right. The family would know the truth anyway. But here’s the thing: their kids aren’t old enough to understand. They’d just get confused, maybe hero-worship their fathers less.
And when enough shit gets written about you, people eventually start believing that at least some of it has to be true. Since my eldest siblings have always been a more interesting target, I never cared much what was written about me. Now, though, I have a big reason to care, and her name is Caroline.
Sitting at the edge of my desk, I hover with my thumb over the screen of my phone. Nah, this conversation needs to be face-to-face. If my word is all she’ll have, I best deliver it in person.
Lena pokes her head through my door. “There’s someone here to see you, Daniel.”
When the door opens wide, Caroline comes into view. She gives Lena a small smile, comes inside, and closes the door.
“You saw.” Lamest opening if there ever was one.
Caroline nods, chewing on her lower lip, avoiding eye contact. “Just after lunch. The girls at work showed me.” She takes a deep breath, snaps her gaze up. “And I decided I don’t believe a word of it. That picture? Might look like a kiss, but I’m sure it was not.”
I cross the room to her, wrap my arms around her waist, and kiss her hard. Fuck, I didn’t even know how much I needed this. Her full trust. Her blind trust. She pushes her sweet body against mine, sighs against my mouth. As long as she trusts me, I don’t care about anything else.
“You decided, hmm?” I murmur when we pause for a breath, keeping my arms where they are. I’m not letting her go. Not yet.
She nods, sighing quietly. “I panicked at first, but you’ve been so... I mean, everything between us has felt so real, I thought there’s no way you’d do that.” Uncertainty flickers in her eyes, her body tensing. “Would you?”
“No, love, I wouldn’t.” She relaxes in my arms. “Before you came, I was just thinking about how to build my defense when all I have is my word.”
“Your word is enough for me,” she says almost breathlessly, smiling up at me—best damn thing I’ve seen all day. I pull her even closer to me. Caroline is one of a kind. I knew that nine years ago too, but was too stupid to fully appreciate it. Now I’m going to show her how much I appreciate her, every day. I kiss the tip of her nose, her forehead, dust my lips to her temple.
“Here is the entire story: Beatrix was drunk, I carried her back to the hotel. Her friends helped her to her room. There’s nothing more to it.”
“I believe you.”
Just like that. She believes me.
“Thank you for trusting me.”
“This feels different than before.” Her eyes widen, and she immediately casts her glance away, shaking her head as if chastising herself for saying out loud something she wasn’t supposed to. She’s adorable when she has entire conversations in her head, but I want to be part of this particular one.
“Different how?” I nudge.