An older man with salt and pepper hair waits a few feet away, looking expectant. Part of me anticipates Robert telling them to go fuck themselves, but instead, he leans over, kisses my cheek and puts his lips next to my ear. “It’s my boss. I’ll be right back.”
I head to the loo. When I get back, I hover a few feet away as they still haven’t finished, but I’m close enough to catch what they’re saying.
“I told you, Robert. I’ve given you time. Pete says it’s ready to go. The editors love it. Just get the final story to me by Tuesday or you’re done.”
Robert’s shoulders bow, one hand dragging through his hair. He doesn’t fight back.
The Story. I don’t even need to think which story. Iknow.
My stomach swoops to the ground, the background noises dull, my body goes cold, and my throat closes.
Echoes of George’s betrayal, every warning my father has ever so much as whispered or suggested with his eyes, the press headlines, the glances from my teammates…
I’m such a fucking fool. Of course, a leopard never changes his spots. Of course, he was in it with me for the fucking scoop.
Of course, things between us weren’t in any wayreal.
It’s always the same story, isn’t it? Different man, same headline. I’m a fucking idiot. I thought I’d learned. Thought I could spot it before it broke me again. I thought—fuck—I thought he was different.
My trembling jaw and shaky hands at what I just heard makes me wonder.
Is he?
Doesn’t feel like it.
Biting my lip to stop the tears from falling and drowning in waves of shame and embarrassment, I back away.
I don’t want to face my family; they’ll know from the look on my face that something is wrong. They’ll know they were right. I was taken for a fool by the man who almost destroyed my father’s career.
So, I run.
CHAPTER 36
Robert
The back of Rhiannon’s dress is every bit as impressive as the front, but I don’t like that it’s moving away from me.
Correction, running.
Considering my disability, running is something I loathe more than anything, in the whole world. And considering I’d be chasing a professional athlete, my odds of catching her are slim to none.
Fine, less than none.
The only thing I have going for me, is that she’s still in those torture chamber shoes. And that I’m determined not to let her leave.
I’m not completely sure what happened, but I’m a smart man and can assume from the way she bolted like a prized horse out of an open stable, she overheard what my boss said to me about my story. Damnit. I should have just told her about the whole thing.
Christ, she’s running from me like I’ve set her on fire. Maybe I did. Maybe I deserve to burn for it.
My leg’s screaming, my pride’s bleeding, and all I can thinkabout is how she’s slipping through my fingers. “Rhiannon.” My hail isn’t as loud as I’d like it to be because we’re still surrounded by people with cameras.
When I get outside, I’m maybe twelve feet behind her, but my leg burns. And, oh great, the weatherman did me dirty because it’s raining.
Her dress is going to get ruined. She’s slowed to an indignant stomp, but she’s still moving away from me.
The rain’s coming sideways, needling through my shirt like punishment. Feels like I earned it.
“Rhiannon, stop. Please?”
