“Really? Don’t you think that’s a bit tacky?”
She waved me off. “Oh please, it’s just a bit of harmless fun.” Kayla’s eyes widened as she looked at me. “Oh. Well, maybe not entirely harmless. But yes. I’d say you’re good. If nothing shows up in the next couple of days, chances are the story is buried. The Dirty always has new gossip up. Your story will be way down the list by then. Someone would have to go digging to find it.”
Fear began to creep back in. “So you don’t think I’m entirely out of the woods yet?”
“Close.” She leaned forward, stroking my arm. “Oh, Randall. I wasn’t trying to worry you. I was trying to make you feel better.”
I DIDmy best not to let Kayla’s words bother me. I finished editing my most recent photo shoot and sent the proofs off to the clients. Noah and I had dinner, watched an episode ofScandal, and had pretty tame sex. I figured it might take a bit for that aspect to come back full force, but knowing us, I doubted it would take long.
Through it all I stamped on that annoying voice that whispered the shoe hadn’t even begun to drop.
Breakfast the next morning was simple and quick. Noah was scheduled to be at the rescue by nine. I was loading Noah’s dishwasher, Harper and Andy at my feet, when he called out from the bathroom. “Babe! We’ve got a problem.”
As if on cue, my phone rang from the bedroom. Kayla’s ringtone.
Shit.
I exited the kitchen and glanced toward the front door. I could run. Drop the dishtowel in my hand on the floor and run.
Noah met me halfway, a towel around his waist, his hair damp. He held out his phone to me. “I was checking Facebook after I got out of the shower. It’s everywhere.”
The last thing I wanted to do was take the phone. If I didn’t see it, it wasn’t real.
“I already clicked the link. Do you want me to just tell you?”
I shook my head and took the offending contraption. I spared Noah a glance before I looked at the screen. He looked pale and worried.
The link was to theSeattle Weekly. And again my headshot was front and center.
Not quiteSeattle Times, but close enough.
I skimmed the article quickly. Most of it was the same information as in The Dirty, except they’d gotten quotes from two other past massage clients. Nothing more damaging than before, just more proof. The article was written more like an op-ed piece instead of a gossip rag. Somehow it made it all sound that much worse.
Then I saw the new info and gasped. “Oh no. Oh. No.” God, it just got so much worse. So extremely worse. I slowed down and read the section again.
This isn’t the first time the Morgan family has been the center of a scandal. If anything, Randall Morgan is simply carrying on a legacy built by his parents. Thirty-seven years ago, Randall’s father divorced his ailing wife, Sarah (Porter) Morgan, to marry his secretary, Maureen Cotton. Sarah died later that year of complications from cancer and was survived by her nine-year-old son, Dustin. Dustin is now a respected power player in the Amazon company, and there have been rumors about him considering running for elected office. It may be a choice he will want to reconsider if there are any skeletons in his closet like those of his stepmother and younger brother.
The article then launched into my photography career, and the writer even interviewed an erotic photography client who happily confirmed he received more than photographs for his money. I didn’t recognize his name, but it didn’t matter at this point.
I looked up at Noah, feeling numb. “You said it’s everywhere?”
“Yeah. I bet with that connection with your parents, it makes it a bigger story.” He stepped closer. “Was that part true too?”
“Yes. It was. Dustin’s mom was sick and dying when Dad left her for my mother. I think Mom was already pregnant with me when they got married. She claims I was six weeks premature, but who knows.” I groaned. “They are going to kill me. To have all this dragged up again.”
Noah grabbed both of my shoulders. “Fuck that, Randall. This isn’t your fault.”
I snorted. “Really? How the hell can you say that?”
“It isn’t. You’re responsible for your choices, and those aren’t anyone’s business. And they sure as fuck aren’t as bad as your parents’ choices. You didn’t have an affair with a married man. You didn’t leave your dying wife for your mistress. That’s on them. Not you.”
Another thought hit me. “You know, I bet Dustin is loving this. At least a bit. Tons of publicity, and Mom and I both look like scum.”
“Maybe. I doubt this is the kind of publicity he’d want, though. I guess it makes a little more sense why he treats your mom like he does. Can’t say I blame him. I hated my dad a lot of the time, but at least he never abandoned my mom. And I guess it explains why Dustin is a bitch to you. Not that you deserve it.”
“I’m sorry, Noah.”
He lessened his grip on my shoulders. “Sorry? For what? This is on your folks. Everything else we handled two days ago. We’re good.”
