“He’s here.” And pacing while spitting out orders. “He’s pissed.”
“No shit.” Ronan chuckles, but it’s a mirthless sound. “I guarantee you it was either Corbin or Mark who sold those pics to the press. Those fuckers kept tabs on everything going on. Corbin has a hard-on for the boss. He’s obsessed.”
I vaguely recall those names and something about a Henry shrine. “In security?”
“Yeah. Mark was Aspen’s roommate.”
Oh no … “Mark knew about Michael.” He was there the morning after I hooked up with Michael. He also knew that Henry didn’t sleep with Roshana and her friend that night, that Henry left and Roshana dragged in Andy—another of Mark and Michael’s roommates.
Henry ends his call and offers me a curious “Who are you talking to” frown.
“Hey, Ronan, I’ve gotta go—”
“I’m flying back to New York. Be there by tonight,” he says.
“No, don’t be crazy. You’re visiting your family.”
“Shut up, Red. I’ll see you soon.” The line goes dead before I can object.
“What did he want?” There’s no small hint of annoyance in Henry’s tone.
The moment I relay the two security guard names, Henry’s on his phone, barking orders again.
My phone chirped while I was talking to Ronan. I check my texts to see another link from Autumn. Doing my best to steel my nerve, I click on it. “You’re kidding me!” The online edition of the magazine shared a picture from last Thursday night, of Ronan and me at our table in Lux, the moment he seized my foot in his hands when I teasingly kicked him.
It was innocent. Nothing. And yet it could easily look like something, especially when it’s coupled with a subhead that reads, “Henry Wolf’s Fiancée Seen Out With Love Interest While Future Husband and Boss in Spain.”
And suddenly it clicks.
“Oh my god.”
“What is it now?” Henry asks, dread heavy in his voice.
“Roshana Mafi is behind this.” Of course, it makes sense.
“That travel magazine journalist?” Henry’s face tightens. “Why would she bother with all this?”
“Because you turned her down and then threatened her if she took out her anger through her article on Wolf Cove. From what I’ve heard, she didn’t take your rejection kindly.” If what Andy relayed was true, Henry told her he was seeing someone, and she claimed to have had the better fuck the night before with Scott. “She was at Lux on Thursday night and then this shows up?” I hold up my phone for him to see.
His teeth grind.
“Roshana came by, pretending not to know how she knows me, but she’s fully aware that you and I are engaged.” Little bits of that conversation click into place. “I told her you were in Spain. She kept calling me your assistant after I corrected her and then told me to enjoy my weekend, as if she knew this article was going to drop. And then this picture releases? This is all too coincidental.”
“Fuck, you might be right.” Henry sighs heavily. “This is about her resentment for me, Abbi, not you.”
“And yet I’m the one wearing the scarlet letter on my forehead!” I knew my misdeeds would come back to bite me.
He reaches for his phone again. “Roshana Mafi, a reporter for Luxury Travel Magazine. Find out how she’s connected to Ben Shaw.” He’s oddly calm compared to five minutes ago.
“Who’s he talking to now?” Violet whispers.
“Still Dyson. That’s his fix-it lawyer. They’re going to be doing this all day. I’m so sorry, Violet. Things are not going as I hoped.” What that hope was, I can’t say, beyond Henry getting to know his daughter. “You don’t have to stay. If you want to get your things, I’ll ask Victor to drive you home.”
“It’s fine.” Violet waves me off. “I still have this assignment to do, anyway. I might have questions.”
I falter. “Are you saying you want to stay for this disaster?”
She shrugs. “Yeah, I mean, if you don’t mind. And if the angry man doesn’t care.”
“The angry man will be on the phone demanding heads for the next few hours.”
“Oh, I can help with that! I’ve been practicing.” Violet takes a deep breath and declares in a shrill, slightly British accent, “Off with their heads!”
Henry pauses midconversation to frown at his daughter.