How hot it would be to slam her right down on that desk…
I slump onto the sofa, exhausted. I glance around: no music, not a single photo. No trace of humanity.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out reluctantly.
Another text from my father.
Dad:Next week. Plaza Hotel.
Damn it, I need to get out of this mess. And fast. I can't afford any more scandals.
I reply quickly, avoiding Nate’s or Dominic’s attention.
Me:I’m not going.
Dad:Yes, you are.
Me:No. I’m practically off the team. I’m done with this story.
Dad:This time it’s for your little whore, not mine.
I feel bile rising in my throat. I grip the phone until my knuckles turn white.
I feel the urge to reply that she is none of that. But I know my father… he would just laugh and call me an idiot.
I try to respond with the only thing that might buy me time.
Me:I won't be any use to you if I completely ruin my reputation.
Dad:Then fix things fast. Grace is cute and photogenic… she wouldn’t look bad in your place.
My breathing gets heavy. I try to tell myself he doesn’t really mean it as a threat. I’m more useful to him. But I know that if I definitively pull out… he’ll involve her anyway.
Me:Leave Grace out of this shit. Don’t you dare involve her… you wouldn’t like a statement from me to the press.
I put the cell phone away and try to return to the present. That will probably hold him off for a while. I don't know what my friends just said, but thankfully, they didn't notice anything.
Dominic stares at us for a moment, then walks away down the hallway, leaving behind only the scent of bourbon and silence.
Nate thanks him; I close my eyes.
The house is cold, but my head is on fire.
The thought of my father slowly drifts away and is replaced by the only scandal I chose willingly.
Sloane Heart.
The one person I shouldn’t even be thinking about, and yet the only one I can’t stop imagining.
Fantastic, Becker.
What a fucking genius.
9
A Hopeless Case
Sloane
