Cam stared at a picture one of Scott’s friends had posted from some premiere a few hours ago.
His thumb hovered over the screen as his gaze traced Scott’s face obsessively.
He didn’t even know what he was searching for.Signs that Scott was unhappy?Signs that he missed him?Signs that he hadn’t already moved on?
Scott looked… beautiful. His dark hair was artfully tousled and swept back, an expensive gray suit draping perfectly over his frame. A champagne glass rested loosely in his long fingers as he smiled at someone just outside the frame.
Whowas he smiling at? Another man?
His jaw tightening, Cam zoomed in. He stared at the curve of Scott’s full, pink lips and felt his own fuckingachewith the urge to kiss them, suck on them, bite them.
For fuck’s sake.
What was wrong with him?
Chapter 23
Scott found out about theDaily Mailarticle during the premiere.
Honestly, he should have expected it. The moment he stepped onto the red carpet, cameras had started flashing harder than usual, reporters suddenly far more interested in him than the actual film. At first he’d assumed it was because Palmer Corp had financed part of the production.
Now he realized they’d probably already smelled blood in the water.
He was halfway through his second champagne flute when his old friend, Tony, appeared at his side with the grin of a man about to deliver gossip he considered hilarious.
“There you are,” Tony said, slinging an arm around Scott’s shoulders. “You slut.”
Scott blinked. “Excuse me?”
Tony shoved his phone into Scott’s face, laughing. “You’re apparently fucking Cameron Richter now.”
For one disorienting second, Scott genuinely stopped breathing, his body going completely still.
Tony, oblivious, kept laughing as Scott stared at the giantDaily Mailheadline on the screen.
DOUBLE WORLD CHAMPION CAMERON RICHTER IN SECRET ROMANCE SCANDAL WITH BILLIONAIRE HEIR?
The blood drained from Scott’s face so quickly it made him dizzy, fear knotting his stomach up.Not for himself.For Cam.His first coherent thought was: Oh god. His career.
Meanwhile Tony was scrolling through the article with delighted fascination. “This is incredible,” he said. “They’re acting like you two are having some tragic forbidden affair in a Victorian novel.”
Scott forced a weak laugh, his fingers tightening around the stem of his champagne glass.
“It’s such bullshit,” Tony scoffed, grinning. “If theDaily Mailbothered to do some basic research, they’d know Richter isn’t even your type.”
Scott’s throat felt tight. “Oh yeah?”
“Please.” Tony waved a dismissive hand. “Far too masculine. You like skinny little disaster twinks.”
Under different circumstances, Scott might have laughed, butcold dread curled tighter in his stomach with every passing second. Because if theDaily Mailhad this much information, then someone else might have the photographs. And if the photographs leaked—
Cam could lose everything.
Scott barely heard the rest of Tony’s teasing. Something about Cam “looking annoyingly good in race suits” and whether Scott got to keep the trophies if they got married. Scott smiled and laughed automatically when appropriate, years of socialtraining carrying him through the interaction on pure instinct, but his thoughts were already spiraling somewhere else entirely.
Was Cam okay?Had his team seen the article yet?Was Daniel screaming at him right now?Was Cam angry at Scott for this somehow?
That last thought lodged itself under Scott’s ribs painfully. It was bad enough thatthings between them had felt wrong for weeks now, strained, distant, and brittle, and painfully unlike what they used to be. He couldn’t bear the thought of Cam hating him for ruining his life.
