Page 49 of Undeniably Unexpected (Boston’s Irresistible Billionaires #6)

I grip the leather armrest of the jet’s seat as we cut through clouds on our bumpy descent toward Boston.

Loomis sits across from me, his profile sharp against the window as he holds Fen tightly against him.

He kept himself busy with his script and playing with Fen, but I can see the tension dripping off him.

He’s been distant since our call with Vander.

At first, I thought he was simply lost in his own introspection as he processed all that’s happening to us and to him, but I’m not sure if that’s it.

Last night he kissed me goodnight, and that was it.

A first for us since we started sleeping together.

I’m trying not to grow paranoid, but old habits die hard, and this seems to be a recurring theme in my life.

Men want me until they don’t or until something happens.

The thought is like being filled with concrete, heavy and rigid and suffocating.

I don’t want to turn to stone. I don’t want my heart to become petrified.

I fought loving him, and now here I am, and it’s too late.

I’ve gotten over other lovers. Men who I thought I loved.

But after this time with him, instinctively I know this is different.

And I’m not sure I’ll recover this time.

I want to say something to him, but I don’t even know what I’d say. What I’d ask. We had nearly two weeks together on the island, and it was magical. Now it feels like everything is falling apart around us again, and I have my own things to process with that.

The relentless turbulence mirrors my insides when my phone vibrates against my thigh like a warning.

One text.

Then another.

Then a barrage like hailstones on a tin roof.

I almost don’t want to look. I already know it’s not going to be good.

I swipe open the first message, and Alden’s name makes my stomach clench.

Alden: He contacted me and said he’s decided for me.

Fuck, Keegan, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened.

I texted him back saying that I didn’t want you hurt.

That I want to protect you and he said it was too late and that he doesn’t want to wait with you heading home today.

How does he know that? He said he’s releasing the video of you, Loomis, and me from the street and is going to reveal your paranormal smut writing career, as he called it.

I had no idea what he was talking about.

You write romance books? You never told me.

Alden: I don’t know what to do other than say I’m sorry! I told him I wouldn’t help him and I wouldn’t validate the video as he had initially wanted from me. I haven’t heard from him since.

My fingers go cold. The air in the cabin becomes stifling. I glance up at Loomis, who hasn’t noticed I’m texting yet, his brow furrowed and eyes trained on the gray skies out the window as if he’s deep in thought.

Paranormal smut.

The words hang in my mind like dirty laundry someone’s just strung up for the neighbors to see.

I’ve published twelve novels under my pen name.

Twelve stories with vampires and, yes, explicit sex scenes that would make a call girl blush.

I like to imagine I’ve even been successful at it.

But success doesn’t erase the censure most people have had whenever they find out.

Success doesn’t quiet the voice of my college writing professor, who said romance is fluff and lacks serious literary skill. It doesn’t replace Travis’s words when I showed him my first book.

Still, I had planned to come out with this anyway.

I was going to tell the rest of my family—my freaking grandmother—first and go from there.

Now it feels dirty instead of prideful, and I can’t stop the burning in my eyes from tears I won’t let fall.

Fuckers. Fuck this guy. What does he know about me? About my life or what I write?

Fuck him and his archaic, misogynist opinions.

My phone buzzes again, this time with notifications from my group chat with the girls.

Kenna: Keegan, what the motherfuck is happening? *Attached video*

I don’t have to click it to know it’s the one of us from the street.

Wren: Who the fuck posted this shit?

Me: Is it as bad as I think it is?

Sorel: I mean, it’s not good. It shows your encounter with Alden and Loomis calling you his girlfriend, and then you questioning it after.

Me: Fuck. I figured that’s what it was going to be. Anything about my author stuff?

Kenna: Your pen name is on another post with pictures and highlighted text from your books. They’re sex scenes with certain words scratched out. It’s linked to your real name.

Me: Well, that’s a total ass-fuck, isn’t it? Shit!

Katy: Breathe, Keegs. We’ll figure this out.

Tinsley: Has Loomis seen it yet?

Me: Not yet. We’re about to land, but I’ll show him.

My heart hammers as I open the link Kenna sent.

Alden is standing over me, all six-foot-something of him vibrating with anger and Loomis is beside me in his ridiculous disguise with his hand on my hip telling Alden he’s my boyfriend.

He cuts away, and then it’s just me and Loomis talking, but you can’t hear much.

Except for my question, “Boyfriend?”

Loomis’s response is muffled but he’s laughing.

Crap.

Bile climbs up the back of my throat, and my hands tremble. The Boston skyline sprawls beneath us, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt so happy and so terrified to see it in my life.

“Loomis,” I manage, my voice a thin thread of sound beneath the engine noise.

He looks over, those gray eyes shifting from distracted to concerned in the space of a heartbeat. “What is it, love?”

I turn my phone toward him, unable to form the words. He shifts Fen tighter against his chest as he leans forward and takes the phone from my trembling hand so he can watch it. His face flickers with a million emotions—confusion, recognition, fear.

“Fuck,” he whispers, a word that sounds both more elegant and more condemning in his accent. My phone pings with a text that makes Loomis’s jaw clench. He tosses it back onto the seat beside me. “Alden is texting you.”

I pick it up and read it, ignoring his contemptuous tone.

Alden: Reporters are contacting me at work and are outside the building. What should I tell them?

God, this got out of control fast.

Me: Nothing. Say nothing. Please. And this person outed you too if they’re already contacting you and surrounding your building.

Alden: So it seems. Damn, Keegan, this is a real mess.

He’s not wrong. I read the texts to Loomis so he knows what’s happening.

“How bad is this for you?” I ask him.

He runs a hand through his light hair, leaving it standing in agitated peaks. “For me? Potentially catastrophic. For my case with Fen...” His voice breaks on his son’s name. “They could use this to prove I’m untrustworthy. A liar. That our relationship is a sham created to impress the courts.”

“ It’s not a sham,” I whisper.

“Not now,” he says. “But it was, wasn’t it? And it seems no matter what, I can’t stop fucking everything up. But now I’ve not only brought myself down, I’ve hurt Fenric, and I’ve hurt you.”

My girls are still lighting up my phone.

Tinsley: You should both come to my building. No press here yet, and it’s safe.

Wren: You need to make a statement.

Katy: The comments are split. Half think it’s a manufactured video, half are devastated their new favorite couple are a lie.

Kenna: Wait. New development. Mom just sent me something.

I press my palms against my eyes until colors burst behind my lids.

“Keegan?” Loomis’s voice coaxes my hands away from my face. “I’m going to sort this. I’ll make it right for you.”

I shake my head. “Why are you saying it like that?”

“That video exposes you as much as it does me. And this man, whoever he is, has revealed your writing career against your wishes.”

“It’s just books, and I’m not hiding from it anymore. I had decided that even before this went public.”

“Yes, my darling, but someone’s using it as a weapon.”

“They’re using our lives as a weapon,” I bite out.

“Exactly. I won’t let it stand.”

I don’t know exactly what that means, but the malice in his voice gives me chills.

My phone buzzes again, and there’s another video attachment. I nearly gasp when I see a video of my grandmother. She’s at the Abbott Foundation with reporters barraging her outside of the building. Crap. Why’d they have to go after my grandmother?

“Mrs. Fritz, how do you feel about your granddaughter’s secret career as a smut writer?”

Loomis must hear because his eyes turn into slits. I adjust my position and bend so he can see and hear it too.

“I believe the proper term is romance author ,” my grandmother snaps despite her polished Queen of Boston smile.

“And I couldn’t be prouder of her. I have all of her books sitting on my shelves.

Keegan is a talented and incredible woman.

She’s a doctor and a published author. How many of you standing here can say that?

Demeaning what is a respected and valued profession and form of artistic expression is unacceptable in any capacity. ”

“What do you have to say about the video that indicates her relationship with Loomis Powell is fake?”

She makes a dismissive noise. “I’ve gotten to know Loomis over the years since I was introduced to him at my ninetieth birthday party. I had the pleasure of watching him dance with Keegan that night, and not once have I questioned their devotion to each other or his son.”

The video cuts out, and now the tears do fall.

“Your grandmother is?—”

“Amazing? Yes.” I blow out a breath. She just stood up for me after I’ve kept all these secrets from her. I allowed self-doubt and insecurity to plague me. To control me. I owe her an apology, and I owe it to myself never to allow that to happen again.

“I was going to say magnificent.”

“That too.”

Fen starts to fuss, his ears likely bothering him, and Loomis pops a pacifier in his mouth and shifts him so that he’s turned around and Fen can rest his head on Loomis’s shoulder. But the way he turns away from me, I see it. I feel it.

“I’m glad you have her, Keegan. All of them. You have this family that’s with you no matter what?”

“Why are you saying it like that?”

He blows out a heavy breath and meets my eyes. “Because I think we should end this.”