by Angel Devlin
Tara: Where are you? We need to see you urgently.
Karla: What the fuck is going on?
I have notifications from all social media, but I bypass everything and go to the showbiz pages online.
The true reality of Park Lane Princess Mia Hamilton.
Drink, drugs, and debauchery. The Princess falls off her throne.
Archie Cherrington: Paid to cover up Mia’s problems?
Complete diva: How the goody goody princess demanded the limelight.
And then there were the family stories.
Mia’s scumbag stepdad! Leaves devastated families in his wake as he uses mothers for money.
Giles Sullivan. From award winning journalist to gambling addict.
Deacon had taken photos of everything he could to destroy me. There are pics of me smoking a joint looking out of my goddamn head, alongside the X-rated pictures. Then there’s the audio where I say to put me on the cover on my own. He’s edited everything like the true celebrity director he is. I’ve been ruined. There’s a statement from the cosmetics company saying they won’t be dealing with me. A statement from the show saying they will be having deep discussions with me and will make another statement in due course.
And then the press had focused on Giles and now I knew why he always followed the money. He gambled. A so-called ‘source’ had come forward. I didn’t know whether it was Deacon or a fellow gambler who sold him out. The father I’d always made proud.
It was all lies.
Lies.
Lies.
Lies.
I feel hot and clammy and like I’m going to faint again. I grab the wastepaper bin and retch over and over.
“Mia. Are you ill again? I’m going to send for a physician, okay?”
I manage to lift my head up. “A physician can’t help me. I need PR.”
Her brow wrinkles. She comes over and takes my phone off me, scrolling through.
“Wow. He left no stone unturned, did he? Foolish boy. His father will survive it all. He’ll find some other sucker, regardless of what’s said about him. Anyway, you’re right. We need an amazing company to support us through this. We might be falling apart on the inside, Mia, but we will not show it on the outside.” She pauses. “Unless directed to do so.” She lifts my chin up gently and her soft gaze lands on me. “You’ve faked it for TV. Now it’s time to make the performance of your life, darling.”
“What about Karla? What about the programme’s producers?”
She strokes my cheek. “I know it’s hard, but you need to stay here and keep a low profile until we’ve got this figured out. Ring Karla but know she might not want to listen to you right now. We’re not going to solve this overnight. I’ll get someone to contact your producers. They can wait.”
I stand admiring my stoic mother, and then she walks to the liquor cabinet and pours a tumbler full of sherry and drinks it like water. I walk over to her, wrap my arms around her and we spend further time dealing with tears and trying to come to terms with our new lives.
Later I call Karla.
She screams down the phone. “You lied to me. All this time, you weren’t visiting and staying with your mother at all were you?”
“No,” I confess. “I was seeing Deacon King.”
“Explains the solo cover,” she spits, her voice like ice.
“His wanting to destroy me and my family explains the solo cover. It was all a set up.”
“I don’t know what to believe, Mia. You’re not the person I thought you were.”
I pause, while my eyes once again fill with tears. One spills down my cheek. My voice breaks as I speak. “I understand, but I’m still the person you know. I just made the mistake of falling in love with a narcissistic liar.”
“You loved him?”
“Dumb, right? After everything I said to you. Warning you away. I’m so sorry, Karla. So sorry. I’ll do anything to sort things out between us.”
“Right now, I need you to not contact me. I need time to think.”
More icy speech. Sharp daggers hit at my heart.
“I understand,” I say and end the call.
The next few days pass in a blur of tears and meetings. The producers of the show release a statement that says in the absence of my arranging to meet with them they are ending my contract but that the completed shows will air as usual. The next aired show breaks the channels ratings record as people clamber to see the bad girl before her fall.
The PR company have been talking with me about waiting it all out, maybe even faking a rehab stay.
I Google Deacon’s name daily, despite how much I hate him right now, and that’s when I learn of the rivalry between B.A.D. and Fully Loaded, and an idea hits me. I’ve done nothing wrong except maybe been a little disloyal to my best friend—who it has to be said has been the same on occasion. She’s no saint. And I never said I was.
Fuck the press.
Fuck Deacon Alpha Arsehole King.
I know exactly how to come out fighting.
Grabbing my phone, I look up the number I need and dial.
“Fully Loaded. Which department please?”
We can all play games.
It’s time for my comeback and Deacon King will regret ever having used me as a weapon against his father.
Because I’m about to return and blow back up in his face.
Once I’ve managed to get through to the people I need at Fully Loaded, I contact my new PR person and explain what I’ve decided.
“Mia. This is dynamite. I think you’re going to put me out of a job.”
I laugh.
Two days later the staff from Fully Loaded arrive at the house.
And then they release the online interview they have, with a sneak peek of the cover I’m appearing on next.
MIA HAMILTON
I never said I was a good girl.
I appear on the cover, my hands across my breasts and a censored sign across my pussy. Otherwise I’m completely naked. The make-up department have vamped me up and the photo is taken in the main entrance hall of my mother’s home, where I’m standing on the elaborate staircase.
The interview talks about how I like to be watched having sex, enjoy the odd joint, beer, and generally have a good time. How Archie cheating on me was the best thing to ever happen to me. How my mother and I will survive Giles Sullivan by supporting each other, and how I have no intention of disappearing like I’ve done anything wrong, when in fact I’m just living my life.
The press lap it up as the first wave of publicity for the exclusive hits. All of a sudden, the press turn and I’m the fallen angel, the front pages mine once more.
Fully Loaded tell me that the buzz for my forthcoming issue is off the charts.
Karla sends me a message. Talk soon?
I don’t reply yet. She can wait. She only seems to be interested now my star is in the ascendant once more. My mother is my main focus right now. That and revenge on Deacon King.
I get the photo of me I asked them to take. I’m still on the stairs but this time I’m facing the camera with my pussy bare and a man standing behind me, his hands holding my breasts. The man was used on the shoot as someone ‘watching me’.
I attach it to an email and send it to Deacon.
“This is what you lost. Hope it was worth it?”
SEND.
There’s no reply. I’d like to say I wasn’t expecting one, but the truth is, deep down inside, I still love him. I hate him and I love him at the same time. I want him to hurt as much as he hurt me. He should suffer because his ridiculous ideas about hurting my stepfather by hurting me didn’t happen.
His misguided notion that it would hurt Giles because he’d treated me right. That somehow, I must have been different, to get what he didn’t. That I must, I’m guessing he felt, have been the golden girl, the apple of Giles’ eye.
I was a means to an end for Giles. The daughter of his meal ticket.
Just as I was a means to an end for
Deacon.
They both played me.
I think about all the very many ways I’d like to hurt Giles Sullivan for what he did to my mother.
Chapter Thirty-One
Deacon
Sitting on my arse with my back resting on the sofa, I stare at the images before me. It’s been a week since I walked out of Mia’s life after all but burning it to the ground and apparently that was plenty of time for Fully Loaded to go after her and get the scoop I’m sure they’ve been waiting for. It seems they’re not content on stealing our exclusives from right under our noses somehow but they’re now making it personal.
My heart races as I run my eyes over her all but naked body that graces the cover of their glossy. Whoever was meant to have front page must be pissed that they got the boot for the fallen princess.
I can’t deny that it was a smart move on her part.
A bitter laugh falls from my lips. Here I am assuming they went after her. Up until this published it seemed my name had been kept out of the media where Mia was concerned, so why would they want her so badly. She was the one to go to them. She offered herself up knowing it would land on my desk. Smart, yet stupid, stupid girl. This might be enough to change people's opinions on her, but she’s dragged herself, and me, into the limelight. Our names are always going to be connected because of this. She’ll never be able to forget me. A wicked smile tugs at my lips.
I’ve left my phone on silent in my room, but still I can hear it vibrating against the solid wood from here. I’m not surprised. This is going to be hot gossip.
Ignoring it, I flip the magazine open. It looks so familiar, yet so different at the same time. I’ve studied this publication time and time again in my attempt to be the best, but seeing images of Mia printed before me makes it seem like it’s the first time I’ve opened it. She doesn’t belong on these pages putting all on show for everyone to see.
My teeth grind as I study each photograph and notice them getting raunchier and raunchier as they go. Every motherfucker from here to Timbuktu is staring at my girl right now and I fucking hate it.
My girl.
Not anymore.
My heart aches at the thought of what I’ve done to us. I didn’t want to accept it, but we had something. A connection I didn’t really believe existed. I thought it was all make believe crap for hardcore romantics, but now I’ve experienced it, I can’t deny that it’s real. I can only hope that as the pain fades and what happened between us turns into distant memories that she’ll be able to find it again with someone else.
The thought has my stomach turning to the point I have to scramble to my feet and stumble towards the bathroom. I empty the contents into the toilet; it consists of whiskey and little else and it burns like a motherfucker.
I left the magazine in the living room. Not being able to face it again, I sit myself on the edge of my bed and glance at my phone that’s glowing on the bedside table.
I’ve got missed calls, voicemails, messages, and emails from the past week but when it lights up once again and one name taunts me, I’m powerless but to reach out and unlock it to find out what she could possibly want.
A small optimistic part of me hopes it’ll be her telling me that we’re even now she’s betrayed me like I did her and we can forget it ever happened; but the bigger, more realistic side of me knows it’s never going to happen.
What I do find when I open her message is most definitely not something I’m expecting. It’s an image from her Fully Loaded photoshoot but it’s not an image that graced the pages. It couldn’t. She’s fully naked and exposed, but that’s not the most shocking part of it. The bit that gets my heart pounding and has my fists clenching to cause some physical pain is the fact she’s got male hands on her body, holding her breasts, and those hands most definitely do not belong to me.
“You are mine, Mia Hamilton. This man may be watching us, but he will never get to touch you. You are mine. You belong to me.” My words come back to me. Staring at the image that’s been sent directly to me I realise that this is so much worse than anything printed in that shitty magazine. This is meant to hit me where it hurts and fuck if she’s not hit her target.
The roar that erupts from my throat sounds like that of a wild animal. My phone collides with the wall before something red hot explodes within me. The lamp on top of my sideboard smashes as I swipe it from the top, followed by everything else that was sitting beside it. I don’t stop until every single inch of my penthouse has been fucked up beyond belief. My knuckles are dripping with blood from ploughing them into the wall when the smashing of furniture didn’t bring the result I needed.
My back hits the wall and I slide down until my arms are wrapped around my knees and my head is resting on them. Tears stream down my face. It’s an alien feeling but I’m powerless to stop them. Something inside me is dying and I’ve no fucking clue as to what I’m meant to do about it.
By the time I come back to, the sun’s long set and I’m curled up on the floor of my penthouse in the dark.
The buzzer ringing makes me realise why I’m awake and I groan assuming it’s another of the guys coming to see if Tyler’s right and that I’m even more fucked up than they ever thought possible.
Only this time, no one knocks. Instead, a key gets pushed into the lock and in seconds the door is pushed open. Light from the hallway allows me to see the devastation I created earlier and something heavy and uncomfortable settles low in my stomach.
“Deacon?” Jack shouts, much louder than necessary seeing as I’m only down here.
“What?” I bark a second before the light is flicked on making my eyes burn. I wince against the blinding light and refuse to look at my visitor. My shame getting the better of me.
“Jesus, Deacon. What the fuck have you done?” Jack’s concerned voice hits my ears and it pisses me off instead of soothing me.
“What the fuck did you expect after Tyler dropped off that fucking magazine? I was meant to ruin Giles’ life, not destroy mine in the process.”
“And how’s that working out for you?”
“There’s no need for the smugness in your voice, you know that right?”
I pull myself to a sitting position as Jack begins attempting to sort out the mess that is my living room.
“Leave it. I’ll pay someone to do it tomorrow.”
“I don’t mind helping, Deacon. I know you’re hurting right now. You’ve been there for me time and time again. It’s time for me to return the favour.”
I nod, taking the still intact bottle of whiskey when it’s passed to me. Jack slides down the wall next to me and we sit in silence staring at the fuck up that is my life right now.
“It’ll get better you know.”
“Really? You an expert in this are you?”
“In love? I’m anything fucking but and you know it. I singlehandedly ruin every good thing in my life, much like you’ve just done. That’s what I know a thing or two about. You feel guilty? It’ll fade. You feel like a fuck up? You’ll redeem yourself. Think you’ll never be happy again? You’ll find a new plaything and discover the joy of meaningless sex again and all will be fine. The world will continue turning and the two of you will find your way without each other.”
I look at Jack with a raised eyebrow. “When did you get so fucking wise?”
“Probably after the hundredth time I fucked up and didn’t realise what I had right in front of me.”
“Oliver?”
With a shake of the head and a huge swig of my whiskey, Jack attempts to change the subject. “So what are you going to do about Fully Loaded? I’ve just about had my fill of their bullshit. We need to end them, or at least find out how they’ve been getting to all our scoops before us. It’s like we’ve got a fucking mole or something snitching back on everything we’re doing.”
“Only the five of us know about most of it.”
“Well someone else knows because it ain’t us that’s doing it.”
“I know,” I
agree sadly. It’s been something that’s been playing on my mind for too fucking long, but our employees are all loyal, most have been with us for years now and wouldn’t dream of doing something to screw us over, plus we make them sign NDA’s. They’re not brave, or stupid, enough.
I sigh and stake another drink.
“You really loved her, huh?”
“Love? Are you fucking shitting me, Jack? I don’t love anyone. I barely even like myself most of the time.”
“Tell yourself whatever you want, D. But this one meant more than any of the others and you know it. You let her closer than anyone else. You let her in here.” Jack’s hand lands on my bare skin right above my heart.
It’s still racing after everything that’s happened and the warm contact does weird things to me. It reminds me of what it’s like to connect with someone in a way I never have before. It makes me remember what it’s like to bare everything to another person without even realising it.
It’s with those thoughts running through my head that I do the stupidest thing I’ve probably ever done in my life, and that’s saying something because I’ve done a lot of stupid fucking shit.
Leaning forward, I press my lips to Jack’s. My hand comes up until I’m able to take a strand of her hair between my fingers. And for just a second, not even that long really, I imagine that it’s Mia and that everything’s fine again. That is until the sound of a loud slap sounds out around me. My head snaps to the side moments before the sting of the connection makes my eyes water.
“What the fuck, Deacon?” Jack screams, scrambling to stand and get away from me.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just—”
“Just what? Thought because I’ve got a pussy that you could use it to make yourself feel better?”
“No, yes. I don’t know. I fucked up, alright?” I stand, staring into her narrowed brown eyes, begging for her to not make a big deal out of this and to let it go.
“You know as well as I do that anything happening here isn’t the answer. Fucking hell, Deacon.” Her hands lifts to her dark hair and she looks to the ceiling as if she’s trying to find the strength to deal with me after that. “I think it’s time I left.”
