“The ten-carat diamond ring on her finger might have been a clue,” Rebecca replied, one perfectly arched eyebrow raised. “Or perhaps the fact that her face is on every political magazine cover in the country.”
I bit back a smile.Score one for the PR guru.
“She came on to me,” Axel insisted. “If I had known she was married or who she was, I would’ve walked away immediately.” He glanced at me, his expression shifting to something almost vulnerable before hardening again. “I might date frequently, but I don’t cheat. I don’t need to. There are plenty of willing single women out there.”
Something in his tone, the raw honesty perhaps, made our eyes lock for a heartbeat too long. I caught a glimpse of something beneath the anger, something that looked almost like hurt. Like maybe my assumption had wounded him more than his pride.
Well, shit. That’s … unexpected.
“Either way, the image looks like you two were caught having an affair.” Rebecca reached into her portfolio and pulled out a stack of printed papers, spreading them across Axel’s desk like evidence at a crime scene. “This is what we’re dealing with.”
My stomach dropped as I read the headlines and comments:
HOMEWRECKER CEO CAUGHT RED-HANDED
This predator needs to be stopped. Going after a senator’s wife? Disgusting.
JEALOUS INFLUENCER ATTACKS VICTORIA WEBB
Dakota Fox is everything wrong with social media. Slut-shaming another woman? Cancel her.
Rebecca pulled out her phone next. “Your follower count, Dakota.” The number was dropping in real time. The follower count tied to Dakota Fox, the carefully curated persona I'd built. My legal name was Dakota Blackwood, but that distinction didn't matter now. “You've lost two hundred thousand in the last twelve hours. Your engagement rate has tanked from eight percent to two percent.
She swiped to another screen. “And this email came in twenty minutes ago from your pending brand deal.”
I watched the color drain from my own reflection in the phone screen as I read:Given recent events, we’re reconsidering our partnership …
Then she turned to Axel with another screen on her device. “Your potential investors sent variations of this.”
The email was short and brutal:We cannot be associated with this scandal. Unless immediate action is taken, we’ll be forced to withdraw our funding.
“Cancel culture isn’t just coming for you; it’s already here,” Rebecca said quietly.
Mine, I could handle. Maybe even deserved it after what I’d accidentally done. But that wasn’t why I was entertaining this ludicrous proposal.
It was my family. They’d spent their life fortune (and then some) on legal fees after my brother, Knox, was arrested in college. All these years later, that financial hole still hung over their heads like a thunderstorm, one lightning strike awayfrom foreclosure. As if my honest, hardworking, and nonviolent parents hadn’t suffered enough, watching their only son—who’d won Most Likely to Rescue Kittens from Trees in junior high—get convicted of murder.
The upcoming brand deal I was on the verge of securing was my family’s lifeline. Mid six figures. With promises for more. The contract was practically signed when I got drunk and … well, you know the rest.
What is wrong with me?Sure, I was drunk. And, yes, I had feelings I didn’t want to explore about the man currently glaring at me like I’d personally ruined his life. But still. Why had I been so vindictive that night to take that photo and attempt to send it to my friends with some immature caption?
“Allow me to be clear about what’s at stake,” Rebecca continued, her voice cutting through my spiral. “Without that investment, Axel’s company is done.”
“Why is your company on the verge of collapse?” I interrupted, genuinely surprised.
Axel Pierce was the definition of success. His pretentious penthouse, his ostentatious custom suits that practically whispered,I’m better than you, in Italian, his air of untouchable confidence. None of it suggested a man whose empire was crumbling.
The look he shot me could have frozen champagne mid-pour. “If those are the terms, I’m walking away now,” he said to Rebecca.
Interesting. Whatever had his company teetering on the edge was clearly personal. And off-limits. But the way his shoulders tensed, the way his fingers drummed against his thigh—a nervous tell I remembered from years ago—told me this was killing him.
“Fine, keep your secrets,” I said. “But mystery and evasion aren’t exactly selling points for this whole fake relationship thing.”
Something flickered in his expression, but it was gone before I could analyze it.
And as it did, guilt swelled in my stomach. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly, meeting his eyes. “I am really sorry, Axel. I never meant to cause you harm. I’d never hurt you, or anyone, on purpose. But that doesn’t change the fact that I did hurt you and jeopardized your business.”
He studied me for a long moment, and for a second, I saw the old, kinder Axel. Then his walls slammed back up. “Intent doesn’t fix the damage.”
