Exposed (Ethan Frost 3)

“And here I thought I ordered fries,” Ro tells him.

We’re all laughing now—from the first day I met them, the three of them took messing with each other to an art form. The fact that they let me get away with joining in—and the fact that they give as good as they get, no matter who I’m married to—means everything to me. Like with Tori, it’s friendship first with these guys. Everything else comes second. Just the way it’s supposed to.

The bickering continues, as we move from picking at Austin’s Englishisms to making fun of Ro’s extreme enthusiasm for his latest project. Then it’s my turn as the guys rib me about the articles popping up in everything from the San Diego Union-Tribune to People magazine commenting on “Ethan Frost’s mystery bride.”

I join in, mentioning the most ridiculous articles I’ve seen, too. It takes a few minutes—there’ve been a lot of articles—but just as we’re about to move on to Zayn, one of the large screen TVs set up against the back wall of the cafeteria catches my eye. It’s tuned to a local gossip show, and right now they’ve got a picture of Ethan and Brandon plastered across the screen.

Both are smiling, and not for the first time I see the familial resemblance. But that’s not what I’m focusing on right now. Because all I can see—all I’m sure anyone can see—is the huge, jagged line running between them down the length of the photo. The graphic is much more commonly used between couples, and is meant to mimic a split. And it more than gets the job done here.

Panic runs through me at the sight of it. Ethan was supposed to talk to Brandon quietly—the last thing he was supposed to do was to make such a big deal of the situation that it was covered on a major news organization’s lunch show, for God’s sake.

The volume is turned off—like at the gym, the frequency to turn to hear the show was posted at the bottom of the TV. But I don’t have my earbuds with me—and don’t want to just turn the volume up on my phone and announce what’s going on to the entire cafeteria. If the way people’s heads are turning toward me is any indication, more than enough people are seeing it already.

So instead, I do a quick Google search, as the sound of my friends’ voices blurs into the background beside me. It only takes a second for thousands of hits to show up—and all of them say the same thing. That Ethan had railed against Brandon at his fund-raiser last night, pulling all support from his brother’s campaign and urging others to do the same thing. Since then, Brandon has lost several other major donors.

Not to mention the fact that the press is now on a mission to find out exactly what happened between the two brothers. A few articles are even asking if Ethan’s new bride had anything to do with it. My stomach, which had finally settled with the arrival of my friends, begins churning all over again. It doesn’t take a lot of brains to figure out that with that many people looking for an answer, it won’t take long before one of them finds it.

Won’t take long before every moment of my very painful past is splashed across every gossip rag in the country in sensational, salacious headlines.

Slapping a hand over my mouth, I make a mad dash for the restrooms at the left of the cafeteria while half of Frost Industries looks on. At least no one can say I don’t know how to make an exit.

Chapter 18

“I’m sorry, but the networks have picked up the story, Ethan. It’s already made its way onto social media, where you’re being hailed as everything from exceptionally brave to a douche who threw his younger brother under a bus. The gossip columnists have dug their teeth in and even the political reporters are mentioning the story. Not just in local Massachusetts news, but on CNN’s state wrap-up reports. It’s only a matter of time before they ferret out the truth, whatever that truth is. And if you don’t share it with me, I won’t be able to spin it. I won’t be able to protect you.”

Stu looks more upset than I’ve ever seen him. I know it’s hard for him to do his job when I’m not giving him all the information, but I already broke Chloe’s confidence once when I spoke with Sebastian. I’m not ready to do it again—especially not when it’s only as a way put as positive a light on Frost Industries, on me, as it possibly can.

Right now, I don’t give a shit about what I look like. I don’t give a shit about anything but protecting Chloe in the best way I can. Which—I’m afraid—isn’t going to be any significant way at all. It’s not the reporters I’m worried about. I knew what I was doing the moment I opened my mouth in that ballroom.

But my mother’s threat hangs heavy on my shoulders. My original plan called for bringing the gambling debts and drug use to national attention. Add in the ties to the Vegas mob families and the press would crucify Brandon. After all, no one likes knocking someone off their pedestal more than the American press—except maybe the American public. Along with the documentation my PI had managed to dig up on Brandon’s assorted and sundry crimes, it should have been more than enough to put him in jail without Chloe’s past—or the pasts of any of the other women he’d raped—ever coming to light.

Chloe would have been safe.

Now, though, with my mother threatening to put her own libelous and poisonous spin on the situation, everything is up in the air. I can still release the information, still try to get ahead of the mess and spin it the way I need it to be spun. But if she gets there first, then everything is going to ramp up a million percent. Chloe’s past will be fodder for everything from breakfast table conversation in Middle America to political punditry on the conservative/liberal talk show circuits. And I won’t be able to do anything to stop it.

The question is, do I strike first? Do I release the information and let the chips fall where they may? Or do I keep and hope my mother is bluffing? It’s the one contingency I didn’t account for—the fact that my mother would go public with Brandon’s rape of Chloe. My mother and stepfather worked so hard to cover it up when it happened, it never occurred to me that they’d be willing to bring it back up in an effort to paint my wife as the seductress in the whole scenario. Or worse, the spurned lover crying rape to get back at the boy who dumped her. With Gone Girl still very much in the consciousness of the American public, it’s not as big a stretch as it should be.

I can’t let that happen. Chloe is healing—a little bit more every day—but she’s still fragile. The last thing I want is for my family to find a way to hurt her again. They’ve already victimized her once. I’ll be damned if they do it again.

Which means I have to find a way to stop my mother’s plan, to neutralize the information she has so that even if she does try to use it, no one will bite. The question is how do I do that without bringing her wrath straight down on Chloe’s head?

Stu is still talking, still prattling on about how he needs to know what he’s protecting me from if he’s actually going to protect me. And since he looks like he’s about to launch into yet another long-winded spiel, I hold a hand up to get his attention. He stops in midsentence.

“So, I’ve got a couple questions for you,” I tell him, even as I continue to outline what it is I want to ask—what it is I want to do—in my own head.

“Okay.” He looks cautiously optimistic, like he can’t quite decide if I’m going to help him or if I’m going to blow up his world. Which is fine, since I’m not yet sure how this is going to go, either.

“So, if you’re a member of a well-respected, old money family from Boston—”

“Like your half-brother’s family.”

“Yes, Brandon’s family.”

“Your family, too, Ethan,” he says, reminding me how it’s going to play in the media. How it’s already playing in the media.

“Okay, my family by my mother’s marriage. So, you’re that family and you have access to some of the best spin doctors in the business. And there’s this story floating out there that, spun one way, will cast your best shot at a political dynasty as a dangerously spoiled rich boy who destroys women’s lives for his own sport. But if you control the narrative, if you get it out there first, you have the chance to spin it so that he looks like the victim of a woman and her greedy, grasping family. You’ll have him exonerated in the press before the other side even has the chance to fire an opening salvo.”

“I don’t hear a question yet.”