“I didn’t know if you’d be busy…” she says, her voice tight with the kind of pause that makes me think she’s considering ending the call short. “But I got the cake. And, uh… my little rabid friend hasn’t smashed this one yet. So that’s progress.”
I lean forward, resting my forearms on my knees, the bourbon forgotten in my hand. “I hear something in your voice, darlin’. What’s going on?”
Another pause.
Then, faint and unmistakable: “You tell that toe-faced bitch if she wants to blackmail you, she better learn to spell first!”
I blink. “Is that Demi?”
“Yeah,” she sighs. “She’s… fired up.”
“Well, I hope Bash isn’t within earshot ofthat.”
“He’s outside,” she says quickly. “Backyard. On the playscape you installed. He still can’t stop talking about it, by the way. Keeps asking when he gets to meet the guy who made him cooler than every other kid in the neighborhood.”
I smirk, even as something clenches tight in my chest. “Smart kid.”
But the feeling doesn’t let go. I want to go to her. Now. Drop everything and just be there. But she’s with her son. And besides the wholedoes she even want to be with someone who’s killeddilemma, I can’t assume I’m welcome around her kid. It has to be her call. Her terms.
She clears her throat. “I didn’t just call to thank you. I… I need to tell you something.”
My grip tightens on the glass. “Alright.”
“I got a text. From Ashley.”
The name alone makes me clench my jaw. “I assumed that is what Demi is shouting about.”
“She sent pictures. Of us. From the bar.”
My blood boils beneath my skin. “What kind of pictures?”
“The kind that make me want to dig a hole and never come out.” Her voice is tight; each word threaded with the effort of not breaking down. “Me on the bar. You between my legs. Then… me on my knees in front of you.”
My brain goes straight to the thoughts of those moments, and despite the fury flooding my veins, I can’t help the possessive twist low in my gut. Those memories weren’t meant to be shared. The way she looked. The way she felt. Her body. Her sounds.
They’re mine.
But I won’t lie, there’s a wicked part of me that’s selfishly glad the pictures exist.
“Text them to me,” I say, voice low. “Now.”
She hesitates, then I hear her phone clicking. Mine pings a second later. I swipe the notification and open the thread.
Yup. There it is. Clear as day. My hands on her and my face disappeared within her, her head bowed at my crotch ready to consume me, both of us completely gone for each other.
I want to jerk my cock and put my fist through a fucking wall.
“She said if I don’t get her back in Andrew’s good graces… she’ll make them public. Said she’d trash Thorne Revival. Essentially destroy me.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter. “She’s fully off the rails.”
“You think?” she snaps, then catches herself. “Sorry. I’m just… I don’t even know what to do.”
I inhale through my nose, working to keep my voice steady. “You don’t have to do anything. I’ll take care of it.”
“How?”
“My brother’s a tech genius,” I say. “JT can make sure those photos disappear. She sends them to anyone else? We’ll know. She tries to post them anywhere? They won’t make it past the first upload.”
