“It’s…about the Ginny Lawson thing.”
I have no idea what that means—I thought everything was resolved, at least as far as I’m concerned. But the way Dylan darts his eyes to my dad reminds me that a lot of the “Ginny Lawson thing” is still very hush-hush.
“Stop the car, Dad.”
“What’s going on here?” Dad asks, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror.
“Just…stop the car.”
He must see something in my expression, so brakes to slow down, then takes the next exit off the highway to idle in the small parking area of a gas station.
“Would someone care to clue me in as to—?”
I have the car door open before Dad can even finish speaking. Dylan is right behind me, opening his door and following me as I walk to the edge of the parking area to give us some privacy.
“Tell me,” I say when Dylan catches up to me.
“Some girl on Instagram has been blasting your name, claiming you took those photos at the party then sold them to the press.”
“What?”
“According to Gene, she has video evidence.”
My mind races around until it finds a straight path right to one Kaylee Charleston.
“That bitch,” I hiss under my breath.
“Wait, did you—?”
“Of course not!” I say, my gaze focusing on Dylan.
“Alright,” he says in a calmer tone. “So…tell me why Gene would think she’s legit.”
“First of all, she’s anything but legit. But…” I think back to that damn friend of hers recording everything, supposedly for her Instagram stories. Whether or not that was a ploy doesn’t really matter. I try to recall exactly what I said. I know I admitted to being the photographer, but that was it. Right?
“Your phone,” I request, realizing I’ve left mine in the car.
Dylan’s brow creases, but he hands it over. I seek out his Instagram app and open it to perform a search for her account. The photos I took at Bowling Green are there—and I do take a brief moment to note how professional they look—but the most recent is a video “behind the scenes” of that shoot. I click on it.
It starts at the point that I admit to being the photographer. I’m facing Kaylee with what at the time was a slightly patronizing smile, but I can see how it might look smugly reluctant to some right now.
“Yes, I was the photographer for the Sexton Spring Fling.”
Kaylee smiles with satisfaction. “Why did you delete that job from your client page on your website? Is it because of the thing with Ginny Lawson?”
Now, I’m staring at her as though debating what to say. At the time, I knew I had a few choice words I wanted to spit out. But again, in this context, it looks like I have something I’m dying to say but just need a little more prodding.
“You want the truth? Okay, fine,” I begin before I seem to realize I’m being recorded, and I give the phone a hard look. “Camera off.”
That’s when it switches to Kaylee sitting down at a table or desk, facing the camera.
“Yes, my lovelies, that’s when Vanessa Paige told me everything that happened at the Sexton Spring Fling, particularly with poor Ginny Lawson. Obviously, I would have loved to have it all recorded for you but, unlike some people, I have ethics when it comes to recording or photographing people against their will.
“As you know, I’m always one hundred percent honest with my fans, and I try to be a good person.” She lowers her eyes demurely, before bringing them right back up, blazing with determination. “As such, I can’t in good conscience work with a photographer who would do such a thing.”
Now there’s a pretty little smile on her face. “If you have any questions or comments, please drop them below, and I’ll be more than happy to answer them.”
When I checked out her page before the shoot, she only had about eleven-thousand followers; not high by “influencer” standards, but not too shabby. Now she’s getting closer to nineteen-thousand. This video alone has been viewed well over five-thousand times and growing.
“What the hell?” I exclaim. “That’s a complete lie.”
Dylan just stares at the phone, his brow more creased than ever.
“You don’t actually believe I said that stuff to her, do you?”
His eyes pop up to mine in surprise. “Of course not. I’m just trying to figure out how to handle this.”
“Easy, I’ll just make my own video and say—”
“You can’t.”
“What?”
“You can’t risk mentioning anything about that party.”
“Are you serious? Is this because of the nondisclosure agreement?”
“Yes,” he says patiently. “That’s exactly why. At most, you can only deny what she’s said without giving any specifics, and that’s going to come off pretty weak. You’ve already admitted on camera to being the only photographer.”
“So just…release me from the NDA.”
“It’s Sexton Enterprises who has control of that, not me.”
“You’re the damn president of the company!”
“You’d be surprised how little power that wields.”
“Well, I’m sure you can convince them,” I say sarcastically.
He shakes his head. “Not when they still think I’m the one who took those photos. That’s a liability that they wouldn’t be willing to risk. In fact, they’d happily nail you to the cross themselves if it meant saving the image of the corporation or avoiding a lawsuit.”
“So…can’t Ginny Lawson just—”
“I’ll take the fall for this.”
“What?”
“I’ll clear it up, tell the public that I was the one who took the photos and sent them to the media.”
“You’d do that for her—for me?” I ask in shock.
“Yes, Vanessa,” he says with his mouth cocked into a half-smile as though that shouldn’t be a surprise.
I stare at him a moment, feeling my heart swell. “But what would happen to you?”
He shrugs, and his smile becomes a little more cynical, as though we both already know the answer to that question.
“I can’t let you do this. Let me get in touch with Kaylee, try to talk some sense into her. It’s obvious she did this for the views, and it certainly worked.” I hear the bitterness in my voice. “I can fix this.”
“No, you’d just be exposing yourself to liability.”
“My career is officially screwed because of this.”
“Which is why I plan on fixing it.”
“I…I can’t let you do this. You’ll lose your company, Dylan!”
“I’ll still be a shareholder and filthy stinking rich, so I got that going for me,” he says in a teasing voice.
“Don’t kid about this. It’s…it’s so fucking unfair! She shouldn’t get away with this.”
“Oh, she won’t,” he says, his eyes gleaming with anger. They soften when he continues. “But between you, Ginny, and me, I’m the one who will land the softest after the bomb is dropped. So let me take the fall.”
“No, Dylan—”
He places a finger over my lips, silencing me. “It’s done, Vanessa.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Dylan
The rest of the ride back to the hotel is in silence, save for the sounds of Motown still filling the car. Lamar was tactful enough not to ask any questions, but I’m sure Vanessa will fill him in later on.
When we get to the hotel, I see her perk up, her eyes frantically scanning the area around the front entrance for photographers. I have no doubt that as this gains traction, there will be some press hounding her. Right now, either they don’t know she’s in Portland, not New York, or they’re just waiting for Ginny Lawson’s team to pick up the gauntlet and do something with it.
She doesn’t relax until we’re safely in the elevator.
“I’m going to head back to New York to get going on a press conference,” I say just before the doors open.
“Dylan…” she hesitates, still leaning against the wall in the car. “Are you sure about this? I still think I should talk to Kaylee. I’m sure I can—
I come in closer and place both my hands against her face. “Yes, I’m sure.”
The doors begin to close, and I catch them with one arm.
She sighs and follows me when I walk out. Once inside the room, I head toward my luggage.
“I’m going to leave today,” I say as I unzip it.
“I’ll go with you,” I hear her say. I turn to find her headed toward her own suitcase.
“No, you stay here.”
“Dylan, of course not!” she protests.
“Yes,” I say, walking over to her. “Right now, I don’t think anyone knows you’re here. It’s the best place for you until I get this thing settled.”
Her eyes go wide. “You think anyone would catch up to me out here? My parents…my sister!”
“Will all be fine. But all the more reason for me to handle this sooner rather than later. The hotel room is paid for through the original stay period, and if you need to stay longer, just call me.”
She nods, looking a little dazed at how easily fame—or infamy can catch up with a person.
“It’ll be fine, I promise.”
* * *
On the way to the airport to meet the plane I’ve requested, I finally call Gene back.
“So, what is the board saying?” I ask, expecting the worst.
“As long as you break things off with Vanessa, then at least the taint is off Sexton Enterprises. You’d be safe. Though, I have to say, this whole experiment in romance for you seems to be destined to fail the way things have been going.”
“So, they’re letting her take the fall.”
There’s a brief silence on the other end before he speaks. “What do you expect, Dylan? It isn’t as though we can attest to the culpability of the president of Sexton Enterprises. I still don’t know what you were thinking with that move. Frankly, if we didn’t think it would hurt the company even more, we’d be suing you ourselves.”
“Have you heard anything from Ginny Lawson’s people?”
“No, but that shouldn’t be a surprise. It isn’t as though we’re on speaking terms, as you might imagine. We’re still not completely off the hook since it was officially a Sexton sponsored party.”
“Right.”
“Dylan, I realize you have a thing for this Vanessa Paige, but right now, she’s completely radioactive.”
“It’s not just a thing, Gene,” I say, feeling my jaw harden.
“All the same, there’s nothing you can do for her…at least not without throwing yourself under the bus. That’s something I’d strongly caution against.” He says it almost as though he knows exactly what I have planned. As though to confirm it, he continues.
“Because if you are thinking of doing something that stupid, I can guarantee you the board will have you removed as president.”
Thus, confirming what I knew.
“Got it,” I say before hanging up.
I settle back in the seat as the airport comes into view. If the worst and most likely scenario happens, then I’ll be let go as president of Sexton Enterprises. Like I told Vanessa, I’d still have a very significant portion of shares, certainly enough to have at least some influence. It will also take a while for my name and image to be disassociated with the company—long enough for the “taint” to wear off, as well as any legal issues resolved. Then, perhaps I can make my return, à la Steve Jobs.
Certainly not the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Vanessa
The first thing I do when Dylan leaves is call Kaylee Charleston. Screw whatever the NDA has to say. I’m not surprised when there’s no answer. That doesn’t mean I don’t leave a message for her, keeping in mind Dylan’s warnings.
The sound of that bubbly, cheerful voice telling me to leave a message grates on me.
“Kaylee, this is Vanessa, the woman you so recklessly threw under the bus. Listen, you need to call me back. If you think—” I stop myself, not wanting to give her any more ammunition to use against me by saying anything that could vaguely resemble a threat. “Just admit that you lied about me. We both know that what you said on your Instagram account isn’t true.”
I hang up, feeling anything but satisfied. Since I couldn’t even read her the riot act, I’m still filled with that righteous energy that threatens to eat me up inside.
Mostly, I just feel unfairly targeted. And for what? So some silly Instagrammer could get more followers? Never mind the damage it does to me. She probably hasn’t even considered the fact that I could sue for slander.
If only I didn’t have a fucking nondisclosure agreement keeping me from doing just that.
And now, Dylan is taking the fall for me, which makes me feel retched as well as hogtied.
“Dammit!” I scream, feeling completely powerless.
I pace the large suite, considering my options. There’s one person in the world who has even the vaguest idea of what I’m going through. I stare at my phone, knowing I’m not supposed to talk about any of this, especially not before Dylan publicly falls on the sword.
But she’s my sister, surely I’m allowed that much?
I pick up the phone and call.
* * *
“Well, she’s certainly got some nerve,” Shayla says after she finishes looking at the video.
We’re at her house drinking hot apple cider on her couch.
“Really,” I agree, shaking my head. “And take a look at the comments.”
“I’ll pass on that, but I can imagine.”
“So, obviously none of it is true,” I confirm, just in case. Completely unnecessary based on the look Shayla is giving me now.
“The question is, what are you going to do about it?”
“I’ve tried calling her, but she isn’t answering or returning the call.”
Shayla laughs. “Of course, she isn’t. People who know they’re wrong rarely do.”
“And even if she did, there’s only so much I can say in defense. I can’t even tell you most of it.”
She raises one eyebrow but leaves it alone.
“Trust me, I want to, but if you saw the kind of vultures I’m dealing with at Sexton Enterprises, you’d understand. You should have seen what it was like when I first—” I shut up before sticking my foot in it. I trust my sister completely. Still, it’s probably best to get in the habit of not spilling anything at all to anyone.
“The thing is, I have no idea how far this will spread.”
“Are you worried about Ginny suing you? I think you’re allowed to break NDA’s in court, right?”
I laugh at the irony. “No, I’m not worried about her coming after me. But my reputation as a photographer is down the drain. And who knows what other dirt they’ll try to dig up on me?”
“What other dirt could they possibly dig up on my little sis?” Shayla asks, mostly in the spirit of being my rock, but little does she know.
“Well, we weren’t exactly behaving like saints at that resort of Dylan’s.”
“Ohh, that sounds intriguing. Should I be expecting a sex tape to make an appearance?” she teases.
I cough out a laugh. “We weren’t that bad, but there was a bit of…fooling around in the pool attached to one of the villas. However, it was late at night, and we were strictly in our underwear!”
Shayla laughs and shakes her head. “So scandalous, whatever will Mom and Dad say?”
“Don’t kid! Just because I’m not naked doesn’t mean I want photos like that splashed all over the internet for the world to see. What’s going on now is bad enough. Right now, I’m just a villain. Those photos will turn me into some kind of slutty, shamelessly sex-crazed villain. I guess now I know how you felt way back then.”
“Except I was a seventeen year old girl. You’re a grown-ass woman—so handle it like one, Vaness
a,” she says, slapping my shoulder with the back of her hand, but not without a smile.
“There’s only so much I can do right now.”
“Stop,” she chastises. “Let’s get one thing straight. Even if this doesn’t get resolved the way you want, it’s not the end of the world. First of all, I’m the first person who can tell you, this will blow over. The more you mope about it, the more it takes over your life. Don’t be like me, Vanessa. Take your punches and move on. Anyone who’s talking about this in…a week? A month? They’re just the kind of loser that wallows in other people’s misery. Don’t give them the satisfaction. You still have your devoted clients and friends like Simone, who will always go to bat for you, so you can rebuild and recover. This Kaylee will get her due…trust me. Karma’s a bitch.”
I tilt my head and smile at her. “When did you become so wise?”
“I’m the older sister. I’m supposed to impart these jewels of wisdom. So…back to this Isla Escapar. I don’t recall you mentioning any NDA for that one, so spill.”
I laugh, then cringe. “I knew I shouldn’t have had all those mango margaritas. I mean, swimming in my underwear with Dylan out in the open like that? Then he carries me back to his room, which can only imply the obvious to anyone looking.” I grimace with regret.
“Hey,” Shayla says, grabbing my attention. “Did you enjoy it?”
“What?”
“Did you enjoy it?” she repeats
“What does that matter?”
“Ask any woman who’s had bad sex.”
I laugh. “That’s so beside the point, Shay.”
“No, it isn’t. Never regret good sex, Vanessa. It’s a rare thing—not that I’d know about that.” She smirks at me.
I wrinkle my nose. “Okay, just because you’re now somewhat aware of my sex life, doesn’t mean I need to know about yours with Jim…I hope?”
She slaps my arm again. “Yes, with Jim. And it’s damn good. Because we connect. That’s important.”
Dylan: Ex-Bad Boy: An Ex-Club Romance Page 16
