Page 101 of Delicate Storm

“I know why you’re calling,” he snaps. “It wasn’t me.”

“It was your goddamn parents, wasn’t it?”

“Most likely. Which means it’s actually your fault.”

“How—”

“Tell me what you know, Paige. Or what they think you know, or they’re never going to stop, and I can’t help you.”

“I’m not the only one that looks bad in this scenario.”

“Really? Did we read the same headline?Youtook things too far, according to a source. My offer still stands. Meet me for lunch. Let’s show the world we’re united and that the rumors are just that—rumors.”

“No.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“You need to control your parents, Christian. Because like I said, I have plenty to say and I’m not afraid to say it.”

“You’re just as bad as they are with the threats. I wish you’d both keep me out of it.”

AndIwish you weren’t a naive piece of shit and that you actually paid attention to the crap going on in your own fucking organization… but here we are.

“Tell them to stop or I’ll release a tell-all. On them andyou.”

I hang up before he finds out that my threat’s empty. I can’t say anything yet because it would just push his parents to hide evidence before I get any. At the moment, I’m a light threat to them. They know I overheard something, but Christian’s mom spilled a lot during that chat with her sister so they don’t know the full extent of what I heard. If I tell anyone before getting evidence, I become a bigger threat and I’ll admit, I’m worried about what they’ll do.

Between Christian and the article, I’m livid by the time I get in the elevator to my apartment. I need to vent, but I have no one I can talk to about any of this. Because no one will understand.

I still haven’t told my dad, even though I said I would. He’s got too much going on with his business back in New York and the team. I can’t add another layer to his stress. Not when I know he’ll put me first when he can’t afford to do that right now.

I pace the small space on the way to my floor, mumbling to myself as though that will solve all my problems, knowing without a doubt that it won’t.

I could call Austin, but all that would do is piss him off. He’s looking, and I need to give him time.

When the elevator stops on my level, I throw my head back and sigh. This is all I need. If they release the images along with that article, I’ll never live it down. Or worse, I could—

“Easton?”

I stop halfway out of the elevator, my eyes wide, to find Easton pacing the hall near my door, his cap pulled low on his brow, his muscles tense under his fitted tee.

He spins at the sound of my voice and pauses. “You’re home.”

“I am. And you’rehere.”

“I am. I…” He trails off as I step out, motioning for me to walk to my door. And God, I hope that means he wants to come in.

“Do you…” I gesture inside when I’ve opened up. “I—”

“I can’t fucking do this,” he cuts in before I can ask my question, but makes his way into my apartment. “I know we have to be careful, for both our sakes, but this pretending bullshit is not for me. I don’t usually give a fuck what other people think, and if our situation was different, even if we were casual, I wouldn’t be worried about hiding it. Only it’s not just me anymore so we have to hide it. But I refuse to pretend I don’t want you. Not anymore. So here.”

He holds out a key and I still, my puzzled gaze lifting to his. “What’s this?”

“What does it look like?”

“A key, smartass. But what’s it for?”

“My apartment.”

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