Dirty Headlines
“Sorry.” I handed our waiter the velvet red tariff. “I can’t eat when I’m stressed, and this is the first time we’ve spoken since Monday, so I’m making up for lost time.”
Célian unfolded his napkin, frowning at it like it had accused him of something, considering my words.
“We’re tanking,” I told him. “Your father is on a suicide mission, and he’s taken all of us as hostages. The only way to stop him is to overthrow his decision, which you can do by teaming up with the Davis family. Can you at least ask Lily’s father? Go directly to him?”
Every word felt like a sword slicing through my mouth. I was sending him off to the last place I wanted him to be. With his ex.
He fingered the rim of his bottle. “They have their own shit to sort through, and the last thing they need is the motherfucker who cheated on their daughter showing up asking for solids.”
“You haven’t cheated on Lily, though.” I rubbed my nose in frustration. “Why did you agree with that statement?”
If looks could slap you in the ass, I think his expression just did.
“I’m fond of her family,” he said curtly.
“And?”
“And I’d hate to break it to them that their daughter is a piece of work.”
“But…why?”
“They treated me like a son when I had no relatives to speak of but Camille.”
“So you’re content with being the bad guy?” I blinked, my mouth lax.
“Are we living on the same fucking planet? I am the bad guy.”
He had a point, and I understood where he was coming from, even if it made me uncomfortable that he’d protected Lily.
“What about LBC?”
He clutched his beer so tightly I thought it was going to crack, ignoring the steaming dishes the waiter slid on to our table. I wasn’t feeling so hungry myself anymore.
“I’m listening to offers from other networks.”
“What?” I whisper-yelled. “LBC is yours.”
“No. It’s my father’s, for the foreseeable future. Unlike ninety-nine percent of the general population, I’m both good at my job and I love it. I won’t jeopardize my reputation. I’d rather work somewhere else.”
“What about your staff!”
It was an accusation more than a question. No matter how much people feared Célian, they respected and were loyal to him, too. He couldn’t just get up and leave. Not in theory, anyway. In practice, I knew better than anyone how he could be taciturn and detached.
“If it comes to that, I’ll make a package deal to take Kate and Elijah with me.”
He stretched in his seat, and I watched the muscles of his arms looping around his bones like ivy, every curve incredibly male. Then I thought about the muscle inside his chest. The one that pounded, but didn’t get its recommended exercise.
His father was killing him slowly and enjoying doing so. His mother was mostly indifferent toward everything around her. Célian didn’t have a shot, other than the Davis family, and we both knew it.
“And what about us?” I asked quietly. His eyes were cold, but his mouth was red and hot, alive.
“What about us?” His icy tenor glided like an ice cube along my spine. He waved his empty beer bottle at the waiter, signaling for another.
“Are you going to explain that little stint in the newsroom when James showed us the item?”
“Probably not. We agreed it was the best thing to come clean. So I did.”
“Without consulting me.”
“False. I consulted you the night before. I have the text messages to prove it.”
“We agreed to it, but didn’t talk strategy.” I refused to back off.
“Strategy?” He scoffed. “We’re not running for office, Judith. Just fucking in one.”
He’d thrown our affair in everyone’s face, and now he was acting like an asshole, because he didn’t know how not to. But I was done—done eating it up every time he threw crumbs of attention my way.
I knew I had to stand up and leave before I cried.
We’d done everything backwards.
First the sex, then the feelings. We’d defied our workplace, and our colleagues, and our ethical codes. We’d ruined a perfectly dysfunctional engagement that had kept his company alive. But most of all, we’d also ruined ourselves.
My legs were up before I knew it, carrying me to the exit. No explanation. No apologies. I felt his grave steps thumping in my hollow chest as he followed me out. It was raining outside—the kind of dirty, humid rain to break the pulses of summer heat. It reminded me of the day we’d met, of the carnal desperation that ate at me back then, of the fact that I was still alone.
I felt his hand on my shoulder as he swiveled me around sharply. He jerked me into his arms.
I didn’t want him to let go.
I didn’t want him to keep me there, either.
“I wish I’d never met you.” My fists pounded his chest, and he took it. Maybe because he knew he deserved it. His mouth pressed against my cheek felt like a rusty, hot blade. The world felt like it was ending, even though I knew it couldn’t be.