Mister Fake Fiance

Erin sighs, her shoulders sagging.

I make a quick decision. “Okay. We need to get out of here. Let me go grab my things, Erin.” I’m torn between leaving her here and talking her with me, but she’s too shaky for me to drag upstairs. The lobby should be okay. There’s a huge column between her and the “reporters” to block their view of her, and they aren’t getting inside. “I’ll walk you to your car afterward.”

“Okay.”

I go to the elevator bank and push the button. God. That was damn close. Those assholes. No wonder Dane said fame is overrated.

I sense something move in my peripheral vision. I turn and see Erin standing next to me.

“Did you forget something?” I ask. “I can get it for you.”

“No. I’m just… I don’t want to be down here.” Her gaze darts toward the main entrance as she hugs herself.

The tabloid writers are pressed against the glass door like zombies desperate for brains. “Yeah, I don’t blame you. Okay.”

An elevator comes, and we take it up the building. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, I’m feeling slightly shaky myself, but my head is clearing.

I know it wasn’t Fordham behind the leak. He’s probably regretting the photo from the auction as it is. Who stands to benefit from this?

When we reach my office, I have Erin sit in one of the visitor’s chairs. She lets me take care of her—probably because she’s still in shock. I grab my laptop and pick my phone up off the desk. There’s a new text.

–Unknown: OMG. I’ve been trying to get to your office, but it’s a madhouse. Are you okay?

Sounds like it’s from somebody I should know, but I don’t recall seeing this number.

–Me: Who is this?

–Unknown: It’s me! Shelly!

Ugh. I feel my face scrunch faster than when I ate Erin’s cookies last week. Shelly must’ve gotten the number from my mom, or maybe she saved it from her previous phone.

–Me: You have the wrong number.

I go to block her, then pause. It’s a little too convenient that she was planning on showing up just now…

–Unknown: Isn’t this David?

–Me: Did you leak Erin’s identity?

–Unknown: I don’t know what you mean. It isn’t like people couldn’t figure it out. She wasn’t exactly hidden at the event.

Riiiiiight.

–Me: Except the press had no clue until now.

–Unknown: Look. She’s into Warren Fordham. You saw that, right? Why else would she let him hold her like that? He had his hands all over her.

–Me: You mean him grabbing her wrist?

I still want to punch him in the mouth for that, but it’s not like they were making out.

–Unknown: He could’ve done more when you weren’t looking. She probably liked it, too! I don’t know why you’d want to be with her when we could be together again.

Disgusted, I block Shelly and shove the phone into my pocket. I used to find her weird non-logic amusing and indulge her. Now it’s just irritating.

I turn and pause when I spot Erin with her face buried in her hands. Her entire body is literally drooping—like mental and physical exhaustion are weighing down on her, too heavy for her small frame.

She lifts her head. “Did you get everything?”