Page 52 of Royal Trouble
“What are you saying?” he asked, pulse thundering at his temple. Was she a bloody reporter? Impossible. He would have known.
Everly flinched at his harsh tone. “When I came to Valeria, I was on assignment forOn Pointmagazine. It was a sort of trial basis. If I produced a good story, they agreed to bring me on full-time to write human interest stories.”
Human interest. Not gossip. It was hardly damning. He’d known she was a writer; she’d told him as much. So what was the big deal? What wasn’t she telling him?
“I was desperate.” She paused, picking at the damn blanket again, completely oblivious to the fact that she was bloody torturing him. “My mom was diagnosed with breast cancer last year. She’s in remission now, but there were so damn many medical bills. I needed the job, and when I ran into you at Lucy’s wedding…”
She didn’t need to finish the sentence. It was obvious. He’d been an easy mark, chasing after her like a total prat.
Every conversation they’d ever had flashed before his eyes.
Bloody fucking hell. She’d come here to uncover his darkest secrets and he’d spilled them all. There wasn’t even an NDA in place to prevent her from exposing him, from exposing the details of New Brighton or even his uncertainty about his paternity.
How could he be so fucking careless?
He rose, pacing alongside the bed. He needed to move, to think.
“For what it’s worth, there won’t be a story.”
“Why not?” Relief surged through his veins, along with a healthy dose of skepticism.
Better late than never, arsehole.
“Because the more I got to know you, the more I realized I couldn’t write the story they wanted. I’d written those kinds of stories before, and I know firsthand the kind of pain they cause. It’s not who I am, not anymore.” She rubbed her temples, and when she spoke again, her voice wavered. “Shit. I’m not saying this right.”
“Is there a right way to tell someone you’ve been using them?” he snapped.
Everly flinched as if he’d slapped her. “That’s fair. I deserved that.”
Guilt gripped his chest, and he raked his hands through his hair. “Perhaps you should start at the beginning.”
Whether he liked it or not, he needed to hear everything.
“Right. The thing is, I’m an outsider. I’ve always been an outsider.” She climbed to her feet and joined him at the foot of the bed, careful not to touch him. He gave silent thanks for the distance, however small. If she touched him right now, he wasn’t sure what he’d do, but he wanted the chance to sort out his feelings without interference. “I’ll probably always be an outsider in Valeria. I just never really fit in, you know?”
Was she serious? If anyone could relate, it was him.
“Maybe that’s why I got into writing. It gave me a chance to escape, to take control. Control was something I desperately needed when I was at Westbury. I wanted to prove to my father—to everyone, really—that they were no better than me, despite my scandalous birth.” She looked up at him, her eyes pleading for understanding. “Which is why I started Royals Gone Wild.”
“You?” The world tilted below his feet, and for an instant, everything went dark. It had to be a fucking joke. No way. No way had his sweet, snarky Evie been the one to write all that rubbish about him. That website had made his life a living hell. Ruined his reputation.
Sent him on a downward spiral of adolescent fuckery.
No fucking way could Everly be the one responsible. It wasn’t possible.
“I’m so sorry, Xander. I was an angry kid, and I was hurting,” she said, tears lining her eyes, “but that was no excuse for the pain I caused others, especially you. I’d take it all back if I could, but I swear it’s in the past.” She reached for his arm, but he shrugged her off, unable to bear her touch. “We were both different people then. I’m not that girl anymore. And from what I’ve seen, you’re not that boy. If you ever were.”
The words pierced him, because when had anyone ever really seen him so clearly? She was right. He’d changed. He wasn’t the directionless boy whose sole mission was to raise hell. And he wanted to believe Everly had changed, too, but how could he when she’d come here for a bloody story?
She’d used him, and he’d let her. Xander rubbed his chest, but it did little to soothe the dull ache behind his rib cage. The news of her betrayal was still too new, too raw, and he didn’t trust himself to make the right decision where she was concerned. Not when he’d already fucked up. He’d let his guard down, putting himself and his work with the foundation at risk. He couldn’t afford to make the same mistake twice.
“I need time to think.” With that, he turned on his heel then walked out of her bedroom and out of her life.
Chapter Thirteen
Everly popped a chocolate-covered cherry in her mouth and chewed slowly, careful not to crack her face mask. After three days of radio silence from Xander (read: three days of near-constant obsessing), she was treating herself to a little Netflix and chill. You know, if chill was code for DIY spa treatments.
Might as well have one last hurrah before she returned to New York to face real life.