Page 93 of Fame and Obsession

“I can’t believe she called her a demented sociopath,” I breathe.

“Actually, I called her a deranged sociopath.”

Helena and I turn toward the office door, where Phoebe stands wiping the back of her hand across her mouth.

“Why?” It’s all I can manage to say.

She hugs her arms across her chest. “I told you at the hotel, Julian—you do what you have to do, and I’ll do what I have to do.”

She takes a couple timid steps in the office, and I can’t help but notice how pale she looks. Any other time I’d be concerned. At the moment, I’m too fucking mad.

“And what you had to do was sell me out?”

“I didn’t sell you out. I helped you.”

Helena lets out a humorless laugh. “How in God’s name is this piece of trash helping him, Felicia?”

“It’s Phoebe.”

“Like it matters now.”

Phoebe turns her chin toward me. “What does she mean by that?”

Helena jumps off the desk again and shoves a finger in her face. “She means that you’re no longer of consequence. You can’t write articles like that and expect him to forgive you. Have you lost your mind?”

Phoebe’s face twists in confusion. Her eyes dart back and forth as she takes a few more tentative steps. “I don’t understand. I was trying to help. Now everything is out in the open, and she can be investigated.”

“Oh, Phoebe…” I wish I could rewind time and somehow stop this moment from happening. Everything suddenly seems dark and heavy.

“Investigated?” Helena gapes. “Do you even know what you’ve done? She’s going to come out with guns blazing, and you’re the first one she’s going to aim them at, lady. Congratulations on that prize. You earned it.”

A thought crosses my mind as Phoebe wrings her hands. “How did you get this story published? I can’t see James Castellano going along with a knee-jerk reaction like this.”

She winces. “I told him I had your written consent.”

At least she has the decency to look ashamed.

Helena slaps her hand on her desk. “That’s it! We’ll call a meeting, refute the claim of a written consent, and demand a retraction. If they refuse, we’ll sue for libel.” Turning, she clasps my shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ve got this.”

“But I’ll get fired.” There’s apprehension in Phoebe’s voice as she traces her fingers across her lips.

“Don’t forget sued,” Helena adds.

An awkward silence settles between the three of us.

“Nobody is suing anybody,” I say, cutting the tension. “There won’t be any meeting or retraction.”

“Julian…” Helena starts, rubbing a hand across her forehead.

I glare at her. “I make the decisions here, not you.”

Fuck. Things were going so well.

“If you’ll just let me explain…” Phoebe pleads, reaching for me.

God, I want to take that hand, jerk her to me, and shake the ever living shit out of her for what she’s done. After that, I want to fuck her until she begs for my forgiveness.

I’d probably give it to her if it were any other situation. But she’s annihilated my trust. I don’t know how I’ll come back from this—personally or professionally.

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