Page 29 of Addicted to the Bad Boy
She shrugs. “I don’t know his name. He paid me in cash to pose with this other guy, then they sent me hard copies of the photos with instructions on how to get them to some girl.”
“Some girl,” I repeat.
“Yeah,” she nods, unfazed by any of this.
“And how’d you get them to her?” I ask. Adrenaline is blowing through my veins. I’m about to lose control as I start to put the pieces together. “E-mail? Text?”
Aurora shakes her head. “No, a courier service. Real discrete, like something rich people would use, you know?”
It’s all starting to make sense now.
Tyler, that son of a bitch.
He staged a photoshoot and then he Photoshopped or deep-faked my face onto whatever dude they hired to be me. Then he had Aurora send the pictures to Mira and made her think I cheated.
My fists clench so tight I can feel blood seep through the skin. “Do you know the address?”
There’s no way she knows. Tyler would want to insulate himself from this the best he can. And it’s no surprise when she shakes her head. “Nope, sorry.” She glances over at Grady. “Can I go now?”
“No,” I snap. “I need those. Send them to me.”
I give her my number, and she texts the photos over. I’m burning inside. It’s like holding a weapon—the same weapon Tyler used to destroy my relationship.
He nods. “Thanks, Aurora. We’ll be in to see you tomorrow. Expect a big tip.”
She winks and struts off, drawing glances from the rest of the room. But I’m not even watching. I’m focused as something primal rises up inside me.
I’m going to kill Tyler.
But first, I’m going to get back my princess.
Mira.
11
FINN
It’spast midnight when I park down the block from the Coolidge estate. I keep to the shadows like last time, my hood up, until I find the same spot where I went over the wall. Again, the ivy scratches at me, pulling at my clothes. I land in the yard like a ghost and sprint up the grass to Mira’s window, which is glowing golden yellow like the light from a warm lamp.
I find the same trellis from last time and scale it, then tap on the glass and wait. I tap again, then notice it’s slightly ajar. I push it in slowly and see Mira curled up in bed, her eyes swollen and her face stained with tears.
She’s been crying.
Tyler, you son of a bitch.
“Mira.” The second she hears me whisper her name, she jolts up.
“Finn?” Her voice is hoarse and raw. “How did you—?”
“I had to see you, Mira.”
She scrambles back across the bed, driving the knife deeper into my heart. “Get out now! You don’t get to be in here after what you did to me!”
“I didn’t do what you think I did,” I say slowly, crossing the room with my hands up. “Mira, it was all fake.Allof it. Tyler—”
“No!” She shakes her head violently. “I saw photos. I held them in my hands! Look!”
She reaches behind her to the end table, grabs the stack of photos, and hurls them at me. They land at my feet, and I can’t help but think about just how awful it must have been for her to have seen them without explanation—without understanding. It must have felt like pure betrayal.
