The Billionaire's Gamble

John’s car is towed away too—I think his might be salvageable. He’s been watching all of this happen with a lack of expression that’s unnerving.

It’s a couple hours until everyone is gone. The cops make the paparazzi leave, and for the first time in hours it feels like I can actually take a breath. Then the cops are gone and I’m left standing in a parking lot full of shattered glass. John comes over to me, his arms crossed. He…doesn’t look pleased.

“I’m sorry about all of this.”

He nods, looking out behind me. He lets out a big sigh before he starts to speak. “I think I’m all caught up on what’s happened. Sharon showed me the articles.”

I blush, for the first time feeling actually embarrassed by what happened. I don’t know what there is to say about it.

“You’re a great lawyer, Dani. We love having you here. But you know that confidentiality is one of the only things that makes our clients feel safe. We can’t make them feel safe if there’s paparazzi taking pictures through the windows.”

I shake my head. “This will blow over, John. I’m the story of the day. Nothing more.”

“You don’t know that. This will drag on for as long as they can make it. They want to sell papers, and you know as well as I do that stories like this sell.”

There’s a dread pooling in the bottom of my stomach. “What are you saying?”

He sighs again. “I don’t like doing this, but I think I have to let you go.”

“What?” He can’t be serious.

“I can’t sacrifice our clients’ safety because you had a one-night stand on your vacation. What if one of those photographers catches a client in the background and it gets published? What happens then?”

“I can take a leave of absence,” I say. “I can stay away until we know for sure that it’s over.”

John gives me a sad smile. “We’ll never know if it’s over. They could pop up at any time, drag you into it every time there’s a story about Coldwater. And there’s always stories about Coldwater.” I feel sick to my stomach. This isn’t happening. I take a few steps away from John, trying to catch my breath. He follows me, continuing. “I’ll give you two months pay, and we’ll have someone ship you copies of your files.”

“And that’s it?” I ask him. “You just want me to disappear?”

He doesn’t respond but the look on his face tells me that the answer is yes.

“What about my clients? We’re overloaded as it is.”

“We’ll take care of them,” John says. “I’ve had someone call you a cab. It’ll be here soon.”

I feel my mouth drop open. I’ve worked at the clinic for almost three years, and that John—that everyone—would be fine with this is painful. “I’m sorry,” he says, but it’s an afterthought.

“Yeah.”

“Let me know where you end up, okay?”

“Sure.” I don’t meet his eyes. I can’t. If I do, I’ll probably start to cry. John seems to sense that, and he walks away, leaving me alone with my briefcase. Anger bubbles up in me. At John, and the paparazzi, even at Nolan. I know that this isn’t his fault. It’s not. But it still happened because of the photo of us. Why did he have to be so goddamn charming? Why did he have to make me feel like I was the center of the world? Why didn’t he just save me from Gerard and go on his merry way? I still would have had an enjoyable trip and I’d be settled at my desk right now starting the day’s work.

The cab pulls up, and I get in. I’m about to give them my home address, but stop. I don’t know what’s waiting for me there. What if all the paparazzi left my office and went back to my house? The last thing I want is to show up and be hounded by them again. Instead, I give the driver Kelly’s address. It’s the only place I can think of that might make me feel safe.

8

Dani

Luck is not on my side when I get to Kelly’s house. I know when I hear footsteps that are distinctly not Kelly’s coming towards the door. Great. Jacob is home. Why Jacob is home in the middle of the day I have no idea, but he’s here, he’s opened the door, and from the look on his face he’s pissed.

“I should have known you would come here,” he says. “You bring the paparazzi to my house? Because if you did you can turn around and leave.”

Straightening my spine, I say, “No, I didn’t, Jacob. And considering that you weren’t the one that could have been killed by them today, I thought you might have at least a little sympathy.”

He scoffs, “It’s your own damn fault.”