Page 167 of Detectives in Love
It’s only partly a lie. Technically, we haven’t had sex—at least not the kind people usually mean. So I’m not exactly lying. But the words still feel wrong. Like what happened between us didn’t matter. Like it was nothing. And even though I know Xavier doesn’t want journalists poking around in our private life either, I still feel awful. Like I’ve just thrown what we have under the bus just to make things easier for myself.
“Mr. Ormond?” Selena asks, turning to him.
“No,” he says, his voice flat.
He doesn’t explain. Doesn’t look at me. And somehow, that makes it worse.
“Alright, last question,” she says, all breezy again. “Reverse ‘Fuck, marry, kill’. Pick one for each other.”
I snort. “Are you writing forShorewitch Teennow? What kind of question is that?”
“That one’s from the fans,” Selena says, all wide-eyed innocence. “What? Too much for you, Mr. Doherty?”
“No,” I say, a little warily, already picturing the headlines. “Fine. Marry.”
“That’s cute,” she smirks. “And you, Mr. Ormond?”
“I don’t care,” Xavier says with a shrug. “Either’s fine.”
My face goes hot at that—at the implication—but I keep my expression neutral.
“You have to choose one,” Selena presses.
“Fine,” Xavier sighs. “Marry, then.”
“Adorable,” Selena beams—then clicks off the recorder, and the smile drops from her face like a curtain falling.
“We’re done,” she says, finishing her tea. “Thank you, gentlemen.”
“We’ve kept our promise. Now it’s your turn,” Xavier says.
“Of course,” she nods. “As I told Mr. Doherty, the tracker came by mail.”
“You said there was a letter,” I remind her.
“There was,” Selena nods. “I was offered money to follow you. To write a piece about your relationship.”
“How much?” I ask, frowning, a chill starting to rise up my spine.
“Not much,” she says with a shrug. “But enough to make me say yes.”
“Who sent it?” Xavier asks.
She lifts her shoulders. “No idea. It was anonymous.”
“And now?” he says. “Are you being paid for this, too?”
“No,” she says. “The story took on a life of its own. My editor wants more pieces about you two, but I’m not getting anything extra for it.”
We both go quiet, trying to process what this actually means.
“I didn’t do it just for the money,” Selena says, like she’s trying to salvage some sense of journalistic integrity. “I realized this wasn’t just a smear campaign.” She looks at both of us, pointed. “Believe what you want, but I’m a good journalist. I know a real story when I see one.” She smirks. “And the tension between you two is off the charts, so don’t bother pretending. I’m just giving the fans what they want—and getting paid for it. Win-win.”
I grit my teeth. “Right, who cares if we’re actual people,” I say, the sarcasm thick in my voice.
“It’s nothing personal,” she says with a shrug.
Before I get a chance to respond, Xavier cuts in. “Get to the point,” he says, fixing her with a hard stare. “What else do you know about the sender?”
