“It is.” His jaw clenches. “My investment should’ve been under lock and key. That’s what I promised you. I’m going to fucking destroy whoever messed up.”
I rub my eyes, the past fifteen minutes suddenly feeling like fifteen hours. “You don’t have to do anything. This isn’t your problem.”
He lets out a harsh laugh. “Are you going to break up with me just because my end of the bargain was compromised?”
I can’t even begin to decode what he’s asking, but anger overrules despair for the first time since Ashley’s call. “What? No. Obviously not. And fuck you for thinking that. I?—”
“Exactly, so why the fuck do you think I’d let you handle this on your own?”
We stay like that, glaring at one another, until the fight drains out of me. “Fine.”
“Fine.” He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “I’m going to grab my phone out of the car so I can call Sloane. And my lawyer. And anyone else I can think of who can help me figure out what the fuck happened. Okay?”
I nod, but the kitchen feels too small suddenly, the walls pressing in. I built this. I worked for this. I earned this.
But I can already picture the headlines, the social media posts, the Reddit threads that will dissect every detail of my relationship with Cameron, every success I’ve earned in this industry.
Every wedding cake. Every new customer. Every five-star review. They’ll all be marked with an asterisk now.Of course she succeeded—her boyfriend’s a millionaire athlete.
I think I’m going to be sick.
My phone buzzes with a text. Then two more in rapid succession. I don’t want to look, but I can’t help myself.
Unknown
Sleeping with someone for a business loan? Classy.
Unknown
Gold digger alert.
Unknown
Does Cameron know you’re using him? Your cakes probably suck anyway. Can’t succeed on talent so you had to fuck your way to the top.
With trembling hands, I block the numbers. Then I turn off my device. Cameron’s back five minutes later, phone pressed to his ear, body so tightly wound I worry he may combust. He scoops me up, taking my spot before settling me in his lap.
“I don’t know, Sloane.” He huffs out a breath.
While Sloane responds, he angles in and presses a kiss to my shoulder, the sweet gesture in stark contrast to the “hell hath no fury” look on his face. “Call my lawyer,” he barks. “And my manager. I don’t know who I’m suing yet, but it sure as fuck is going to be someone.”
He ends the call and zeroes in on me, his eyes swimming with concern. “We’re going to figure this out, sweetheart.”
My chest cracks at the care in his words and actions. “That won’t stop the world from thinking that the only reason I’m successful is because you wrote me a check.”
Frustration burns in his eyes—not at me, but at the situation and his inability to fix it. “That’s not true.”
“It doesn’t matter if it’s true. That’s what they’ll think.” My voice breaks. Inhaling a shaky breath, I press the heels of my hands against my eyes, as if that will stop the tears from welling.
“I’ll release a statement saying the investment is legitimate, that you have a solid business plan, and that my personal life has nothing to do with my professional decisions. Because that’s the truth, Kenn. We?—”
“No.” The word comes fast and sharp, so I take another breath in and slowly release it. “I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to have to defend myself for taking an investment. I just—” My voice cracks. “I want everyone to leave me alone.”
He cradles the back of my head against his chest. “You can be alone, sweetheart, but we’re going to be alone together, okay?”
I lean into him, eyes screwed shut, letting myself take comfort in the solid warmth of him, not believing it’ll work out, but wanting to so badly.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
