I switch to Local 5 News.
“Small-town teacher Maisie Lang blackmailed the pop sensation Logan Humphries, who remains tight-lipped about their so-called fake relationship . . .”
I can’t imagine what she must be going through. I must hurry.
I mute the TV and pack as fast as I can, hoping she avoids the headlines.
Against better judgement, I pull my phone out and scroll through X.
@PopCultureGuru: Can’t believe she’d do that to Logan. Disgusting.
@LoganLover99: Hope karma gets her! #MaisieLangIsOverParty
@TeamMaisie: Guys, give her a break. It takes guts to come clean like that.
For every defender, twenty trolls circle, ready to pick Maisie apart. I better stop swiping before I shatter my phone against the wall.
Why, Maisie, why did you admit that it was all your doing? I dial her once more, but all I get is her voice asking to leave a message.
“Maisie, please. Call me back. What you did—I need to understand.” I pause, searching for words. “What you said on stage . . . that’s not how it happened. You and I both know that.”
What was it that she said to me before she left?
You’re free now to do as you please.
Free from what? Her? The contract? Is that what she thought I wanted?
A sudden rapping at the door stops my thoughts cold. I move to open it, hoping against hope it might be Maisie.
It’s Victoria, dressed to the nines in a sleek black dress meant for seduction, but in my eyes, she doesn’t hold a candle to Maisie. A folder tucks neatly under one arm, and her smile gleams. Without waiting for an invitation, she strides inside.
“Your doorman practically rolled out the red carpet.” She surveys my living room with the critical eye of someone mentally redecorating. “I told him we had important business to discuss.”
I stand by the open door, one hand still on the knob. “Now is not a good time.”
She glances at my half-packed carry-on, shoes and shirts tumbling over the sides. “Planning a trip somewhere?” Her gaze shifts to the TV momentarily before returning to me. “The press is clamoring for your side of the story, and you’re running back to Hicksville?”
“That’s my hometown you’re insulting.” I never cared much for Maplewood Springs—too many hurtful memories there. Until Maisie knocked on my door. If she loves it there, so do I. “And yes, I’m going back.”
Victoria clicks her tongue. “You can’t be serious. After all the damage control the label’s done?” She tosses her folder onto my glass coffee table with a smack. “Do you have any idea how lucky you are that this has actually boosted your profile instead of tanking it?”
My hand curls into a ball at my side. “None of it is her fault. She never blackmailed me to do anything. The fake relationship was my dumb idea. I never should have written that contract.”
“You mean this?” She pulls a folded white piece of paper from her pocket and holds it up, dangling it between two fingers like a dead mouse.
My heart skips a beat, then accelerates to dangerous speeds. I march over and snatch it from her grip. “I thought I’d lost it. I’ve been looking everywhere for it. How the hell did you get this?”
Victoria’s smile grows cold. “I overheard you and Maisie talking about it that night at the lake house.”
The paper crumples in my fist. “You stole it?”
“Oh please.” She snickers. “I just borrowed it to give the small-town girl some motivation.”
“What did you do?” I demand through gritted teeth.
Victoria shifts her weight to one leg, crossing her arms with what I can only describe as nonchalance. “I simply pointed out how disastrous it would be if the press found out. She did the rest.” Her shrug is theatrical. “You should thank me, really. It’sworked out in our favor. You’re the hottest topic in the industry right now.”
Fury pulses in my veins with each quickened breath. “You blackmailed her.” It takes everything I have not to throw her out the door.
