Page 177 of Alphas Like Us

“And then we’re pressing charges,” I say, my voicestilted.

I don’t know what I feel. Grateful that the full frontal is of me and not him. I know I feelthat.

Farrow kicks the door closed, and it shuts with a loudthud.I back up a few feet, and as soon as he turns towards me, we latch onto one another. Our arms slide around each other’sshoulders.

Chest to chest, we tighten the embrace, and his heavy pulse thumps against mine.We’reokay.

His hand warms my neck. “Maximoff,” hebreathes.

He stopsthere.

Because heknows.

Like Ido.

There’s such a small chance that those photos won’t be leaked. I don’t know who else has them, and if they were smart, they would have already sent the pictures to their bosses. Once a photo is taken, the line between a leak and privacy is so damnthin.

I can only hope that my lawyers will be fast enough to file cease and desists. That they’ll obtain the photos before it snowballs out ofcontrol.

And the last thing I think,I can’t propose today.Somehow, that hurts themost.

32

MAXIMOFF HALE

Beingwith family should have taken the edge off what happened at the villa, but last night we boarded the mega yacht in the Med; and with twenty-seven family members on the ship, I’m feeling the heat of almost everyone’s whispers and silentsympathy.

It’sheavy.

And not what I wanted to bring onto a family vacation. On the main deck, sleek white cushions and couches cluster around a five-foot deep pool. Cooling off in the waters, I perch my elbows out of the pool on atowel.

My thumb marks the place in a paperback:Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics, but I train my eyes straight ahead. Where an overhang shades a circular table with fourteen plush chairs, and right behind that seating area, sliding glass doors lead to the mainsaloon.

SFO had a debate on the pronunciation ofsaloon, but Oscar shut it down quickly and let everyone know it’s pronounced “salon.”

I have a good view inside that saloon, and I see Farrow side-by-side with Dr. Rowin Hart. Both treat severe sunburns. Red fiery blisters are puckered on Winona’s shoulders and arms. Ben looks worse, fire-engine red legs swollen like logs. Both of them used some kind of knockoff organic sunscreen, and it didn’t do itsjob.

Rowin cleans a popped blister, and Farrow has been trying to keep Ben’s fever down. I watch as Rowin says something to myboyfriend.

But I’m out ofearshot.

I notice Farrow rolling his eyes and replying back. He snaps off hisgloves.

You don’t know how much I dislike Rowin Hart. I wouldn’t put him in the Voldemort category, but my aversion towards Farrow’s ex-boyfriend has been a rising tide. Especially now that Farrow is officially on the med teamwithRowin.

These feelings I feel—it’s notjealousy.

It’sfear.

Rowin isn’t pining after my boyfriend. It’s clear that he despises Farrow, and I see that raw, emotional pain flare up in Rowin’s eyes every time he converses with him. It puts me on edge. Onguard.

After all the shit Farrow and I have gone through, I can’t let his ex hurt him. Physically, verbally, all of the fuckingabove.

“Happy Birthday, Moffy.” My uncle’s smooth voice tears my glare away fromRowin.

Connor towers above me in navy swim trunks, his poise and stature god-like. My dad jokes about how Uncle Connor is immortal since he only looks better withage.

“Thanks,” I say tohim.