He smirks, but it’s more forced than superior. “And why would you, when I know all about your family’s dirty little secrets?”
My entire body goes rigid. It’s been a year, but I can’t help but react badly to any mention of the scandal involving my mom. How she looked the other way from a potential homicide.
No, scratch that. A homicide, because a girl did die. And the culprit went unpunished for nearly a decade because of Mom’s spiteful silence.
“Do you think you’re something special? You’re nothing. I dug up everything about you and your family. I even wrote about it. You might have heard of me.” He smacks his chest with his palm. “Tom Brockman.”
The name makes me scrunch my face with bad taste in my mouth. Tom Brockman is a bottom-feeding tabloid hack who went after my family last year when the sordid details of what Mom did came out. Out of all the so-called journalists, his articles were the most lurid, trying to paint everyone, including Ivy, as people who deserved what happened.
“You didn’t ‘dig up’ anything. You just repackaged what other, actual journalists researched to try to make a quick buck or two at someone else’s expense. You write about other people’s pain for profit. The Josef Mengele of journalism. Except you’re not as creative.”
His face turns bright red. His knuckles whiten as he clenches his fists.
Come on, motherfucker. Throw the first punch so I can break your nose.
I’m not stupid enough to punch him first and give him the pleasure of suing me for millions in pain and suffering.
“Tom, you need to go,” Skittles says, placing a hand on my arm.
The gentle touch soothes my temper, but only a little.
“I’m telling you, you’re making a mistake.” But there’s a frustrated understanding in his pale eyes. He knows he isn’t going to get anywhere. The shitbag slinks away.
Then it finally hits me. He dated Skittles. Touched her and thought she was pregnant with his baby.
Pure outrage pours through me. What’s wrong with karma? Is she on vacay? A man like that should be a virgin. For life. “Tom Brockman was your ex?”
Her lips grow tight. “Yes. I was dating him before I met you.”
“Is he one of the reasons you decided to adopt your no-dating rule?”
“No.”
I’m skeptical. The data she gathered probably helped her reach the decision, but surely dating a loser like that didn’t help. I’d bet a kidney he wasn’t supportive of anything she wants to do.
She checks the time. “I really have to go. I have a meeting.” She starts toward the office. “Thanks for lunch.”
Suddenly, I can’t let her go like this. “Skittles.”
“Yes?”
“What he said isn’t all true.” I look away, uncomfortable with this intense desire to explain the scandal. Obviously, she already knows about it. Everyone with access to the Internet does. “About my family and what happened, I mean. The tabloids, they really blew everything—”
“I know. And even if it were true, it doesn’t matter.” She gives me a warm smile. “You’re you. Family is family.”
A weight I didn’t know was on my shoulders lifts. I stare, stunned that she knew exactly what I needed to hear. My phone buzzes, but I ignore it. I watch her wave, turn and disappear into the building. The effect of the smile lingers like a kiss, and I find myself smiling back.
Until I check my phone and see a missed call from a hospital in Tempérane.
Chapter Twenty
Pascal
I walk toward my cubicle. My belly’s full of great food, but my heart is churning. How dare Tom show his face at my work? It’s like he’s forgotten all about the horrible things he said when he thought I “entrapped him with pregnancy.”
Or the fact that I told him we were through. Utterly. One hundred percent.
But that isn’t all. He dragged Court and his family into our fight. Bastard. It must’ve escaped his notice that if he hadn’t been such a dick, I would never have hooked up with Court.