Page 97 of Always Mine
“Nothing sweeter. One of my favorites,” she says, not missing a beat.
A wicked smile plays on her lips, and she leans forward conspiratorially. “We’re friends, right?” she says, arching a brow but not allowing time for me to answer. “So full disclosure amongst friends. I’d much rather let the interns ravenous to climb the social ladder dress up and mingle with Manhattan’s finest assholes. Be my eyes and ears on the ground while I stay home in my velour sweats,sipping wine on my couch, watchingSex And The Cityreruns and waiting for their updates. When I get the best material from them, I’ll fashion it into an irresistible piece of art, adding a flourish of color the same way one might add a slick of lipstick before they head out the door. Then I’ll send that pretty thing out into the world like a proud mama and watch as it gets more views than any other online publication in the country.”
I can’t help my own sly smile from spreading. She’s a smooth operator. I’ll give her that. “Ahhh, so what you’re saying is that we were extremely lucky to have you grace us with your actual presence at the New Year’s Eve event at Bella Donna?” I ask, determined to keep this conversation moving in the direction I need it to go.
“Actually, I accepted the invite from our mutual acquaintance, Arty.” She returns serve, staring imploringly at me. I keep my expression neutral. After tonight’s post, I get a sense she’s all too aware there is no love lost between our group and Arty, and she’s testing the waters. “As you’re aware, his plans to be the winning bachelor at your dad’s New Year’s Eve party were foiled when the Belle of the ball ran off with the Beast.” She smirks at her own joke. “But I can understand your choice. Six years is a long time to wait for Princess Princi.”
Her smile and expression soften, and I’m thrown a little by seeing a more human side to a woman I had completely demonized in my mind.
“Listen, Sophia, I’m just going to cut this dance short and take my shot at setting the record straight. I write gossip. I need scandal to make the gossip worth reading. I need to produce something that is worth reading because I have bills to pay. I don’t come from wealth like you. I have clawed my way to be part of the circles you were born into. Honestly, I like you. I’d even audition to be the fifth band member if the opportunity arose. But, for now, I’m going to just tell you as many hard truths as I can, and you can get to the point of all this,” she says, waving a hand between us.
I keep my guard up, even if I feel like I am seeing the real GG. I pick my drink up and take a sip, nodding over the rim to indicate I’m listening and that she can continue. The more she speaks, the more time I buy to decide how much I say and to what level I am going to make her part of the plan I’ve hatched.
“Marco is a good man, and I’m thrilled he got the one thing he’s wanted forever. Did you know that he literally kept my little blog running for the first three years by effectively paying for sponsored posts? Ones that blasted out pictures of him with various women on his arm, speculation about who he was dating, who he was fucking, commentary and running polls about who might tame the eternal bachelor. He did all that to create a picture that he was a playboy. To make you loathe him and make you want to stay away from Manhattan until you graduated from Harvard. He did all that at the expense of his own happiness. Seb got his dream club, and you got to experience new-found independence. In doing so, it kept your dad off everyone’s back.” She pauses and opens her bag, pulling out a pack of tissues and handing me one. It’s only then I realize that I’m crying. Fucking hell! So much for my tough girl act.
“So yeah, it was never my intention to be on Marco’s bad side. We had a harmonious, mutually beneficial thing going on. No strings attached. No sex,” she adds, giving me a wink before her expression turns more somber. “That is until he gave me a story about Arty Bartholomew Jones and his...extracurriculars...and said he would pay me anything to expose him. I was mortified at the information he’d given me. Absolutely sickened to the stomach, and even more so for the fact I knew the story was dead in the water, regardless of how much he’d pay me. Up until that point in time, I was independently owned, but I had just signed on the dotted line to have Belmont Media as an investor. I needed that capital to grow, but it also meant they had editorial discretion over my content. Given their son’s friendship with Arty, the story was buried immediately,” she finishes ruefully.
She takes a big swig of her drink, almost like she needs it to compose herself after that moment of truth.
“Thank you. I appreciate your candor,” I say, before taking a big swig of my drink for Dutch courage.
“What would you say if I told you there was a way to make up for the regret of killing that story. To use your platform to take down a predator and get justice?”
“I’d say...tell me how I can help, because as of midnight, my little old blog got backing from a new angel investor. Someone you might know very well.”
Chapter sixty-eight
Righting Wrongs
Marco
Myeyesfeellikesandpaper and my head is pounding. After what felt like an eternity filing a report with the NYPD while Avery took the girls home, me and Sebastian met Avery back at the Vault Enterprises office where we’ve spent hours scouring video footage to find the city worker who visited to complete—and ultimately sabotage—our compliance check. Once we found a good frame for him, we focused our attention back on footage from the night of Arty’s thirtieth birthday. Seb and I initially refused to take the booking, but Patrick intervened and insisted we take it or we might find ourselves without further financial backing. It’s another Patrick special to add to my list of biggest regrets, because the following morning we found an underage college girl passed out, half naked in the alcove in the room.
I offered to take her to the police station or even the hospital to get checked out, but she refused. She told us she had signed an NDA and was here on a temporary visa, so she was petrified of the legal ramifications. I drove her home to make sure she got there safely. And when I went to check on her a few days later, she was already gone.
“There, that’s her,” I say, pointing out a girl wearing a red mini dress, arms linked with another girl. Avery zooms in, and to my surprise, another familiar face catches my attention—wavy auburn hair, big blue eyes, and porcelain skin.
“Fuck! That’s the waitress AJ ran after tonight,” I exclaim. “And I’m pretty sure she works at Joey’s Pizza Parlor too.” My brain has switched gears now. If I have any chance of executing my plan to take Arty down, I need to talk to both girls.
“If she was at the party, she obviously knows Arty somehow,” Seb says, wheels turning. “If her reaction to seeing him was anything to go off, I’d bet my life there’s a story there.”
“I’m going to head out and run all these images through my visual recognition database,” says Avery. “Hopefully, it will give us all the information we need.”
“I owe you, bro,” I say, clapping him on the back. “Thanks for getting Sophia home safely, too.”
“Anytime. She said she was going to bed,” he responds, acknowledging the question I’ve been too afraid to voice before heading out.
I exhale a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding the entire time. She’s still there.
Now it’s just me, Seb, two glasses of top-shelf scotch, and the elephant in the room in the form of the long overdue explanation I owe him. Seb swirls his scotch in his glass, jaw flexed and eyes glassy from the stress of our night, focused on the one large block of ice in the glass. I don’t rush to fill the silence. Finally, he meets my gaze and utters just three words that crack open the vault.
“Is it true?”
I don’t need to ask him to clarify. I take a sip of my scotch and nod ruefully. “Where do you want me to start?”
“From the fucking beginning might be good.”
So I go right back to that summer in the Hamptons, the awareness of my true feelings for his sister, the conversation with his dad, and the deal I struck with him so we could have Bella Donna. Then I lay out every single sidestep, sacrifice, and sin I’ve made to bring usto this very moment here. My heart is heavy, but I also feel lighter than I’ve been in years.