Page 97 of Sapphire Storm

Then suddenly Rachel was holding both of his hands tenderly.“Showtime, Romy,” she whispered.

And then everything went dark.

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At first, Roman thought he’d passed out. Butthe low murmur that went through the crowd in response to the sudden blackoutconvinced him he was conscious. It was followed by voices.

Two loud, clear voices. Coming from everywhere and nowhereat once.

One of them was Rachel. But not the version of her holding hishands, standing barely a foot from him. This version had been recorded.

“…No, listen, Mom. Seriously, if I came out instead, youcould do just as many interviews about it and get just as much press.”

“No one will get it, Rachel. This isn’t Twitter. They’renot going to understand this bullshit about love languages and not wanting sex.It just doesn’t make anysenseto people. It’s not something I cansell!”

Out of nowhere, a spotlight’s halo slammed into Diana in thefront row, so fiercely bright the attendees sitting beside and right behind herraised their hands to shield their eyes. The wedding hadn’t suffered somemassive technical failure. It had been hijacked. And Diana was now the star.

“We’llmakeit make sense, Mom. That’s thepoint. It’s an opportunity for us. And the media will be all over it. Trust me.If we—”

“Theopportunityhere is for you to get marriedto someone everyone wants tolook atandsleep with. Becausemarriage is a story people know and love. Not thisasexualitycrazinessyou keep trying to push on me.”

“I’m not pushing it on you, Mom. It’s who I am!”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Rachel. If you want one ounce ofthe career I’ve had, just learn your lines and hit your mark, all right?”

“So that you can get all the good press.”

“Whatever! The only reason I ever slept with your fatheris ’cause he was a producer.”

Diana was paralyzed, blinded, searching, it seemed, for herdaughter through the spotlight’s glare. Struggling, it seemed, to accept thefact that her only child had secretly recorded her. When it was clear therecording was at an end, she shot to her feet and opened her mouth, but justthen, the spotlight swung away from her and toward the back of the room.

To Ethan.

He was dressed in his chef’s uniform. In one hand, he held awireless microphone.

“Good evening. My name is Ethan Blake.” His powerful voicefilled the vast ballroom, but he had to pause lest he be drowned out by thesound of three hundred people quickly turning in their chairs at once. Even asall eyes in the room were on him with suspicion and alarm, he looked calm andsteady, the confidence coming off him and wafting down the aisle, enfoldingRoman in its embrace. “And I’m here to tell you that the two people standing atthe altar tonight are not up there because they love each other or because theywant to be. They’re up there because Diana Peyton is forcing them to be.”

Slowly, the lights had started to come up again in theballroom, revealing a sea of stunned faces and slack jaws. “Hank!”heheard Diana whisper fiercely off to one side.

Roman looked to Hank, standing next to the stage in the bestman’s position. He and the rest of Diana’s team should have been moving downthe aisle to wrestle Ethan to the ground. But they hadn’t budged.

“Hank!”Diana hissed again. The man didn’t move.

“They’re up there at the altar because Diana Peyton is usingme and my past against them.”

Stunned, Roman realized what Ethan was about to do and hestarted moving toward the steps. “No, no, Ethan. Don’t, Ethan, she’ll—”

Rachel grabbed him by the elbow. “Let him do it, Romy,” shewhispered. “Let him do this for you.” But her whisper carried throughout theballroom. Someone had turned up their body mics.

Ethan continued toward the altar, all eyes on him. “They’reup there to protect me. To protect my job. And so fifteen minutes ago, Itendered my resignation from Sapphire Cove so that I could tell all of you thetruth about this wedding.”

“Ethan,don’t!” Roman wailed.

“Listen to Roman, Ethan,” Diana growled.

Instead, Ethan walked to the edge of the front row,microphone to his mouth, glaring at Diana with an intensity that brought theroom’s full focus to him. The uncompromising intensity of his stare and the fewfeet of distance between them froze Diana and brought an electrified silence tothe entire ballroom.

“Between the ages of twenty and twenty-five, I was a sexworker in New York City, an escort. My clients paid me to have sex with themand more. Diana Peyton got her hands on information proving this, and she usedit to blackmail Roman Walker and her daughter into this marriage so she coulduse the wedding for her own publicity purposes.”

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