Page 45 of Wrecked

As I assemble the ingredients to make French toast, I realize my conversation with Shane didn’t resolve a thing. I’m still stuck in an untenable position. And it’s only going to get worse once Sam starts showing up here in the penthouse on a regular basis.

* * *

Later that day, I call Sam, but he sends me straight to voicemail. So, I text him instead.

Me: Can we talk, please?

He doesn’t even reply.

Me: Sam, stop with the cold shoulder. We need to talk.

No reply.

Me: Damn it, Sam! Fucking answer me. Quit acting like a child.

Sam: There’s nothing to say. You got what you wanted.

I stare at his text. Part of me is damn happy he finally replied. But the other part of me realizes he’s right—I did get what I wanted.A one-night stand.

Sam: Just stop texting me, ok? This is pointless.

Chapter 16 – Sam

Monday, all hell breaks loose at the bookstore. Erin shows the latest copy ofThe Chicago Scoopto Beth, who’s standing behind the check-out counter. I glance over Beth’s shoulder to see what’s got Erin so riled up. On the front page of the tabloid is a picture of Beth at the counter ringing up a customer.

Beth stares at the photo. “How did he get this picture?” She glances back at me. “You took the data card out of his camera.”

My stomach drops because I realize I fucked up. “He must have taken this with his phone. I didn’t think to confiscate his damn phone.”

The caption underneath the photos reads:

Beth Jamison lucks out as Chicago billionaire playboy Shane McIntyre’s new arm candy

As Beth reads the article that goes with the picture, her face goes even paler than usual. When her knees start to give out, I catch her.

“Sit down,” I say as I pull a chair close.

I read over her shoulder as she reads the rest of the article. It’s nasty, filled with vile accusations and blatantly incorrect information. Sanderson is making Beth out to be a money-grubbing gold digger who has latched onto Shane because he’s rich.

Poor Beth looks like she’s having a panic attack.

I lay my hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“I just need a minute.” Then she goes back to reading the article. “Why would someone print this garbage?” she asks, hervoice breaking as she folds the newspaper and shoves it into a trash can behind the sales counter.

When my phone chimes with an incoming message, I glance at the screen.

Shane: Safe room now! Kline’s on his way to Clancy’s.

Shit!

Me: On it.

I grab Beth’s arm and lean in to hiss in her ear. “Come with me!” I haul her to her feet and try to pull her along with me. When she resists, I tighten my hold on her. “Now, Beth!” I steer her away from the check-out and toward the stairs.

“What are you doing?” she cries, struggling to keep up with me. She’s clearly frightened.

“Just move,” I say as I herd her up the stairs.