From: Angela
I know. The producer told us.
August 14
To: Angela
It made the news back home? Wow.
August 14
From: Angela
No, dear. We’re in Paris. Your father insisted. I’m afraid he knows about your boyfriend. Rather, he knows that he really is your boyfriend.
August 14
To: Angela
Wait. What?
August 14
From: Angela
He knows that you and Mr. Ainsley have been sharing hotel rooms.
August 14
To: Angela
Dammit! I knew Anton was spying on us!
August 14
From: Angela
Who is Anton?
August 14
To: Angela
The guy who tattled to Dad.
August 14
From: Angela
I don’t think that was the name.
“I just got the weirdest text from Angela,” I said to Dixon when he entered our hotel room. He had an odd expression on his face, and his body language, when he closed the door, standing with his back to it, screamed warnings in my head. “Oh my god, what’s wrong? Is it your brother? I thought he was recovering nicely at your lord brother’s house.”
“Rupert is just fine.” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. “Paulie, I... erm...”
“What?” I padded over to him, clad in a pair of jeans and a tee. We didn’t have to meet with Roger until dinnertime, when we would have the official presentation of the winners’ purse. “You’re scaring me! What is it?”
He closed his eyes for a second, and then said, all in a rush, “I just ran into Roger. The Essex team has lodged a protest, saying we broke the rules when we gave that Frenchman a ride. Roger says they have a valid point, and has stripped the win from us.”