And a fair number of them seemed to be casting judgmental glances in my direction.
“People are watching me, aren’t they?” I asked.
“Yes,” Emily said, and I appreciated her no-bullshit answer. “But can you blame them? It’s been all over the news.”
“What?” I hissed.
She looked at me like I’d suddenly gone insane. “You saw the articles. We were talking about them last night.”
“Oh, the thing in the parking garage.”
“Cam, someone basically attacked you. How can you be so flippant about it?”
“He didn’t even get my purse.”
I wished everyone would stop making such a big deal out of the so-called attempted mugging. Some random guy in a mask and hoodie had tried to grab my purse after work the other night. I’d stomped on his foot with my heel and rushed back into my building while he wailed in pain. It had barely been an incident worth mentioning, but the press was acting like it was big news.
“Do you really think that’s why people are staring?” I asked.
“Why else would they be staring at you?” she asked.
“Because of the fucking sex tape,” I said, lowering my voice.
I drained the last of my martini. Fucking Aldrich. A little over a year into our relationship, when I’d thought Aldrich might be the one, he’d talked me into letting him take a video of us having sex. I’d had a glass or two of wine and the allure of doing something a little bit kinky had overridden my good judgment.
Although I wasn’t watched by the press like Daisy, being the CEO of a major aeronautics company and one of only a handful of female billionaires in the country meant I was susceptible to public scrutiny. It made me extremely careful to curate a professional public image. I acted the part. Dressed the part. And one little lapse in judgment—one night—was looming over my hard-fought reputation like a thundercloud.
I’d trusted Aldrich. That was what really stung. Aldrich’s country club buddies weren’t passing that video around because some jerk had hacked into Aldrich’s computer and stolen it. He’d sent it to them. Sent a video that should have remained private. A video he’d assured me he had deleted long before we’d broken up.
Deleted, my ass.
“If it gets out, Derek and his team will help,” Emily said. “And I don’t think many people have seen it.”
“God, I hope not.”
Luna rubbed a few circles across my back. “It’s going to be fine.”
“Thanks. I should go bid on some things.” I set my napkin and empty martini glass on a passing waiter’s tray.
Daisy was busy flirting with the guy who’d bid on the ugly giraffe—which didn’t say much about his taste, but to each his own. I wandered around the auction tables with Emily and Luna, absently bidding on things.
It had arguably been one of the worst weeks of my life—attacked in a parking garage and a potential sex scandal just days apart—so I was glad to be out with my girls. At thirty-six I still loved playing dress-up, and a black-tie event was a great excuse to dress to the nines. I’d hoped a killer gown and stilettos would take my mind off everything else.
So far I’d spent most of my evening fantasizing about bad things happening to my ex and having imaginary confrontations with him in my head. The good news was, if I did run into him, I had at least a dozen zingers ready.
Aldrich wasn’t here, however, and I couldn’t decide if that was a very good thing, or a massive disappointment.
We’d broken up six months ago, and until Monday, I’d been completely over it. Early in our relationship I’d imagined a future with him, but I’d eventually realized we were totally wrong for each other. Even in the immediate aftermath of our breakup, I hadn’t been grieving him so much as the loss of nearly three years with the wrong man. I hadn’t shed any tears. Mostly ranted to my friends while we drank wine in Daisy’s hot tub.
After that it had been business as usual. I had an aerospace empire to run.
But Monday, a friend of his who was not a total douche had called to let me know Aldrich had shared the video with a handful of his buddies. His friend had thought it was a dick move and wanted me to know.