Page 69 of Saving Ian Pope

“You’re pregnant.”

“No!” Chloe clicked her tongue like a schoolmarm. “This isn’t about me. It’s about you.”

“Me?” My voice squeaked.

“Okay, I’m just gonna say it.” Chloe took a deep breath, apparently marshaling her nerves. “Remember, I told you I was joining that exclusive dating site—BlueFin.”

“I remember. Better class of guys, yada, yada.” I stirred my soup, wondering when Chloe was going to get to the point and what it all had to do with me and PopWiz. Had that site posted something about me?

Chloe continued. “I got accepted.”

“Congratulations. Did you match with Austin Butler? Why is this about me?”

“I’m getting to that. I created my profile, and there’s a chat you can join with other female members—and boy was there chatter.”

“About what?” Chloe’s words began to permeate my brain and take shape. Celebrity gossip. Celebrity dating site. My palms got sweaty, and my hand shook when I picked up my teacup.

“About Ian Pope. He’s on BlueFin.”

Chapter 23

IVY

I plunked my cup back in the saucer, and hot tea sloshed over the sides, burning my fingers. “Th-that’s not possible.”

“It is possible, babe. I saw the profile. Has his picture and everything.”

“Could it be old?” Had he met black panties on BlueFin?

“No. I mean, the accountcould’vebeen created at an earlier date, but the messages are current.”

“What messages?” I pushed my soup bowl away, dug my elbow into the table, and sank my forehead to my palm.

“This is where it gets bad.”

“Getsbad?” My knees were bouncing up and down so hard, I was shaking the whole table.

“He’s been sending private messages to members about...stuff.”

“Stuff? You mean sex?” I laughed, but it came out more like a croak from my dry throat. “I don’t believe it, Chloe. That’s not Ian. Have you already forgotten about the dick pics? It’s a setup.”

“Oh my God. Has he been peeing on you?”

“What? No! What are you talking about?”

“Sex in public?”

“No, I mean, does doing it in the backyard count?” I dragged a hand through my hair. “Why are you asking me these questions?”

“Those are the kinds of things he’s suggesting in his messages...kinky shit.”

“You mean kinky pee.” I smacked my hand on the table and laughed. “This is as fake as Duke Hammer’s dick.”

A couple two tables over, studying their phones, jerked their heads up in unison. They must understand English.

Chloe huffed. “Duke’s dick isn’t fake. I read all about him after that fiasco. Quite the esteemed career.”

“I don’t believe any of it, Chloe. His ex has some kind of vendetta against him. This stinks.”

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