I barely know Dean. That damn omega scent is making me insane. He doesn’t need to be protected. He needs to be destroyed.
I see my father visibly relax. "This is actually the first major opportunity we’ve had to get rid of him. We can play this," he says slowly.
Warren nods. "We could go further." He glances at me. "We could play up the seduction. Carter gets close to Dean, makes him look like a lovesick fool. We all saw how that little bitch reacted. Carter can have him eating out of his hand."
My whole body goes tight. "No."
Both of them turn to look at me.
"No," I repeat, and I'm surprised by how steady my voice sounds. "I'm not doing that."
My father's eyes narrow. "This isn't the time for squeamishness, Carter."
"It's not squeamishness." The lie comes easily. "If I’m anywhere near him after this, it’ll legitimize the prime match speculation. If this is to work, then it needs to be one-sided. Jamie is stalking me. I can’t risk it looking reciprocal. I think it’s too big a risk."
My father considers this, his head tilting slightly. "He has a point, Warren. If Carter is seen anywhere near Dean, the press will have a field day."
Warren is quiet for a long moment, his jaw working. I can see him calculating, weighing my argument against his instinct to attack, then he nods. "Agreed.”
“Carter—" My father fixes me with a hard stare. "You stay away from Jamie Dean.”
“I already said I would,” I say but the lie I told is sitting between us. I can claim it’s not a prime match as much as I like. We both know it’s not true. Just as we both know that it makes Dean a much bigger risk than we ever knew.
My father looks at me for a very long time and I see the risk sinking in, then he says. “No contact. No communication. If I find out you've been anywhere near him, there will be consequences. Understood?"
"Understood."
"Good." He turns back to Warren. "What else do we have?"
They start talking strategy and which demographics are most concerned about the allegations.
I stand there and nod in the right places, but I'm not really listening. My mind keeps drifting back to the studio and the moment Jamie looked at me and the whole world narrowed down to just the two of us.
I screwed up. I know I screwed up. Going on David Glass was supposed to be a power move. Instead, I handed our enemies the best ammunition they could have asked for.
But for those few minutes on that stage, breathing the same sweet air as Jamie Dean, I felt more alive than I have in years.
They keep me at the estate for the rest of the night, preparing for the inevitable press onslaught. By the time Warren finally leaves, the sky outside is starting to lighten.
I should try to get some sleep, instead I lie on my bed, pull out my phone and start searching. Jamie Dean is supposed to be the stalker but I’m about to put in my best effort.
The name Jamie Dean brings up a flood of results and almost all of them are from the past few days. The clip from Point of Contention is burning its way across the internet.
Before the Times headline that turned my life upside down, there's almost nothing on Dean.
I find a handful of bylines from The Daily Scoop consisting of celebrity gossip, society coverage but nothing serious.
He has a LinkedIn profile which I stalk on private mode, but despite going back to the day it was set up, I find little of interest. His social presence is sparse.
I find myself watching the Glass clip again. I don't want to—I know I should close the app, put down the phone, try to get some rest—but I can't stop myself.
The camera caught everything. My entrance. The moment I stopped dead, nostrils flaring. The way my whole body oriented toward Jamie like he was my north.
And Jamie—
He looks wrecked. His pupils blown, his lips parted, his chest rising and falling with shallow, rapid breaths. When our eyes meet, a current passes between us that even the camera picks up.
The comments have shifted since I last looked. Warren's people are working already, because now a different narrative is taking shape.
