Page 126 of Wildflower
But I see what it looks like from the outside. Us together like that in his office.
Shit.
I run upstairs and find my phone. There are lots of messages from Kaia and others, but before I can read any, Nia calls.
“Nia, what’s going on?”
“Rey, you need to stay home. Don’t come to work.”
“I—I can’t, anyway. There are reporters here. I’m scared.”
“I can’t believe it, Rey. I’m so sorry I let him do this to you. I put you in this position.”
“You didn’t, and there’s no position, we—I…” I stutter, not sure what to reveal.
“I’m going to have to suspend you until further notice, Rey. I’m sorry, but you have also broken the rules.”
Jesus Christ, if I’m suspended, what’s happening to Mark?
“Nia, they’re writing things about me. Xander is furious.” My voice cracks as I realise my world is falling apart. I was afraid my blissful bubble would burst. It was too good to be true, but it didn’t faze me it would explode and hurt people around me too.
“I have to go. We have a board meeting. Keep your phone with you.”
And she’s gone.
I lean back on my bed. Do I dare look?
I have to know. I open my phone again and search for my name. There are pages and pages on the search engine with results I can’t believe are tied to me.
‘Another Infinio exec affair with intern’
‘Mark Becker caught breast handed’
‘Infinio Games scandal: Damian 2.0’
I click on one at random and am met with what Xander was talking about. Pictures of me from my atmosphere modelling gigs. My tits covered in glitter. I understand how I appear to them.
But it’s all wrong. It’s out of context.
Panic is overtaken by anger. I’m so fucking sick of people looking down on me. I love my body. And I love getting dressed up and playing around, making people laugh. Sparking life into an event. What the fuck is wrong with that?Why does everyone have to twist a woman’s actions into something lewd?
“Rey!” Xander shouts again, and I jump up. “Mum is here,” he adds.
Jesus Christ.
Mum.
I stomp down the stairs, ready for her attack.
She’s on the doorstep, her silhouette visible through the frosted window of the door.
Xander unlocks the door, and I shuffle down the hallway so he can let her in. The reporters see me just as I see them, and they lift their cameras towards the crack of the door, scrambling over each other, until Xander closes it.
“Rosemary, don’t open the door like that, my goodness.” She waves a hand at my hair towel. Says the lady in a massive hat and sunglasses, as if the press were here to capture photos of the hussy’smum.
“I couldn’t care less,” I hiss, but rip it off regardless and ruffle up my damp waves.
“That’s obvious,” she says, stopping in the living room and turning to me, removing the glasses and dramatic headwear. “What the hell were you thinking, parading around like a commonprostitute?”
