“You know that coffee machine probably costs as much as some people make in a year.”
“I am unsure how that knowledge affects me,” Nicholas replies, inordinately attached to his coffee machine. She’s not wrong, it was stupidly expensive, but it also makes him any coffee he wants when his housekeeper and personal chef aren’t here.
“You’re unbelievable,” Amanda sighs against the counter, digging through her purse on the kitchen island until she’s taken out a cell phone and an actual newspaper. He didn’t even know people actually read those anymore.
She scrolls through the phone until she’s found what she wants, then slides it across the counter in front of Nicholas along with the paper. He nearly chokes on his coffee when his eyes dart between the headline on her phone and that in theSanta Leon Star.
‘Bad boy of hockey playing it safe with accountant’is in bold font on the phone, and a quick scroll reveals nothing more than a smattering of paparazzi photos of Nicholas from a drunken club encounter last year to one of his hockey fights and postulates about his new relationship with Andrew.
The headline in the newspaper is less sensational—Hockey Star Dating One of Santa Leon’s Own—but it’s infinitely moreincriminating because right there on the front page is a grainy cell phone photo clearly taken from the day before when he went to see Andrew at work. Even in black and white, it’s easy to make out Nicholas standing beside Andrew, a hand at the back of his neck.
“Photo is shit,” Nicholas says after prolonged silence, taking a drink of his latte and wishing he’d made it a double. “Also Andrew says he’s a financial advisor not an accountant.”
“Is that all you have to say?” Amanda demands. “Andrew is everywhere.”
“Probably not everywhere.”
“Yet,” Amanda all but screeches. “You showed up at his office, Nicholas. How did you even know how to find him?”
“It’s not exactly hard to find an office building that has our logo out front. Besides, people just tell me what I want to know.”
“Of course they do,” Amanda sighs. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”
“What’s the big deal? It’s not a secret we’re boyfriends.”
“Fake boyfriends,” Amanda corrects, setting Nicholas’s teeth on edge. “Fake boyfriends who made a deal. Andrew told me you wanted to keep it quiet, that it was just going to be something to do with your parents. He isn’t prepared for this shit storm you’ve unleashed. If I’d known you wanted to go public, I would’ve briefed him. Me and your publicist could’ve prepared him.”
“It’s just a stupid article in a local paper.”
“No, Nicholas. It’s much bigger. This stupid article,” she says, picking the newspaper up and waving it at him, “is being picked up by every gossip site and news agency across the country. Me and your publicist have been fielding questions and demands for interviews since the middle of the night when the story broke. Even Tony has been calling me because he said you’re not answering his texts, and he’s worried this might affect your game since you know—he doesn’t know it’s fake.”
“It’s not going to affect my game,” Nicholas grunts. “Besides, who the fuck cares who I date? I’m just a hockey player.”
“Don’t play stupid with me. We both know you’re not just a hockey player, and you’re not an idiot. You go out of your way to demand attention on social media, you have a huge online following and, oh, did I forget the part where your parents are one of the wealthiest families in the United States? What you do matters. It always has, regardless of how hard you try to pretend it doesn’t.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Nicholas snaps.
“It means you run away, and you fight, and you want to pretend you’re no one, and that’s not true now nor has it ever been true. You are Nicholas Whitmore, heir to the Whitmore fortune. You are a verifiable social media star and one of the top players in the NHL. You can’t do anything without a media circus soyou knew. You knew if you went and made a public claiming on Andrew like this, it would make a stir, and you didn’t fucking care.”
“That’s not true,” Nicholas protests, yet her words hit uncomfortably close to home. He had known, hadn't he? He’d wondered if it was a bad idea to show up at Andrew’s job yesterday, but he did it anyway because he needed to see him. There was a brief thought about texting Andrew a heads up, but Andrew would tell him not to come. Nicholas knew he was a selfish fuck. He just wanted to do what he wanted and go see Andrew, but then he’d seen that boring ass fucker touching Andrew and snapped.
“Has Andrew seen this?” Nicholas questions.
“I don’t know,” Amanda says. She’s not yelling anymore, and he almost wishes she were. “I tried to call him, but he isn’t answering his phone, and I can’t even use Charlie to get ahold of him because to my knowledge Charlie doesn’t know yet. Because it was supposed to be asecret. You’ve imploded Andrew’s entirelife, Nicholas. He’s going to wake up today and the normal, quiet life he knows is going to be gone. His face is everywhere. His name is everywhere. You threw him to the wolves with no warning, you selfish asshole.”
“I’ll fucking fix it then,” Nicholas grits out, unsure why he’s sick to his stomach at the idea. He’s never cared who was collateral damage before, but the prospect of hurting Andrew bothers him.
“How? How are you going to fix this? How are you going to protect him? Because I swear to fucking god, Nicholas, if you don’t, I’ll never forgive you. Andrew is better than you, better than all of us, and if he gets hurt?—”
“He won’t,” Nicholas snaps, pausing when he hears a loud ringing. “Is that your phone?”
“It’s not mine,” Amanda says, pointing to hers, still on the counter.
If it isn’t hers, then it’s Nicholas’s personal phone, the one he left in his room. Ignoring Amanda, he all but runs to his bedroom knowing there’s only one person who would call his personal line this morning.
Sure enough, Andrew’s name flashes on the screen. He prepares himself to be yelled at, to be chastised, to be broken up with before they even get a chance to finish this deal of theirs. What he’s not prepared for is the shaky timber of Andrew’s voice when it filters through the phone.
“Nicki?”
