Page 340 of Tormented Billionaire Romance Series

“You were sleeping,” Amelie says to Grace. “I knew you would be here because of the message Mr. Scipio sent me.”

Just so there aren’t any misunderstandings, I tell Grace, “I told hernotto worry about cleaning the guest room when she got here this morning.”

“You were asleep,” Amelie says again.

“Just spit it out,” I demand.

“Zach,” Grace says, holding up one hand to me, “let her talk.”

“At first, I just wanted to take a picture showing you asleep in his room after everyone said you two were …” she trails off. “The man who called me, he told me that it was more important to keep the story alive than to catch you doing something wrong. I swear, I don’t know what story he was talking about.”

I’m seething, “Even if that were true, how would that possibly justify—”

“Zach,” Grace says again, her voice remarkably calm.

“I saw you were sleeping without your clothes on,” Amelie continues, “the sheet was pulled up your shoulder, but I could see enough. Please,” Amelie pleads. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“Continue,” Grace says, her voice monotone.

Amelie starts again, “I thought if they’d pay me so much—”

“How much?” Grace interrupts. I can’t read her face, so I don’t know what I should be doing right now. I’ll keep that to myself, though.

“Two,” Amelie says. “Two million dollars.”

“Are you kidding me?” I ask though I’m no longer shouting. “You makethatwhat everyone’s going to think every time they look at her from now—”

“Zach,” Grace says. “Maybe you should sit down, too. You don’t look well.”

How is she so calm?

“I thought if they’d pay me that much for proof the two of you hadn’t stopped … you know,” she says. “They would have to pay me more for something like that.”

“I would imagine,” Grace says. “So, you were in the bedroom, I was sleeping, you could tell that I was sleeping without clothes, but that a sheet was over me. What happened next?”

Amelie looks at me, and it’s almost like she’s expecting some help. She won’t get it.

“I took the top of the sheet,” Amelie says, gesturing. “I pulled it down, and I took the picture.”

“Uh-huh,” Grace says like she’s working technical support and she’s just trying to understand the customer’s issue. “And I’m assuming from the fact that everyone in the world has supposedly seen it already that you’ve already sent the pictures and it’s been leaked to the press?” Grace asks.

“Yes,” Amelie says, taking half a step back as Grace stands.

Grace walks over, slowly. “And so I’m assuming the story is going to be that Zach beats me or something because I got into a fight with my sister and my face is—”

“I covered your face with your hair,” Amelie says. “I know it was bad of me to take the picture, but I know Mr. Scipio, and he would never hurt anyone like that, especially not you. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, I just—” Amelie’s voice catches in her throat. “I just wanted the money.”

Grace turns to me, asking, “Have you seen the picture?”

I nod. “On TV, they blurred it, but the full thing is easy enough to find online. It’s everywhere,” I tell her.

“Just how covered is my face?” she asks.

“I didn’t see any signs of your fight,” I answer. “I don’t know if we could get away with a denial, though. Maybe we could say it was Photoshopped?”

Grace titters. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I just can’t believe this is how this stuff actually happens. To be honest, I liked the view from the other side of the fence better.”

“I’m glad you’re taking this so well,” I tell Grace, “but—”

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