Hale rapidly shook his head back and forth.
“Are you trying to tell me that you were going to give the story of your rape to Mac Owens?” he asked in disbelief.
The idea turned my stomach, but I didn’t waiver.
“Yes. If that’s what it takes to get the heat off Alexander, so be it.”
“Mac Owens is slime. He’s not a gossip columnist, but an investigative journalist looking to make his mark any way he can. He’ll sensationalize your story like you can’t imagine, and publish the one about Mr. Stone. He’d never agree to a trade. You’d basically be offering him a two-for-one deal. There isn’t a decent bone in the man’s body. You can’t talk to him. It will destroy you. Not to mention, Mr. Stone would be murderous if you became a victim of the press.”
I blew out a breath in frustration. Hale was most likely right, but I was hard-pressed to come up with anything better. It was beyond irritating. It wasn’t like I wanted to make my sordid tale public. In fact, the idea scared the hell out of me. But, I had to do something.
I tilted my chin up stubbornly.
“Well, help me then. Let’s work together to shut this down, Hale.”
I tried to come across strong, needing to be a goddamned super hero looking to join forces and conquer evil, but Hale wasn’t buying it. He afforded me a small smile and shook his head.
“I know you have the best intentions, but I think you’ve gotten in over your head here. Tell me, Miss Cole. Have you ever Googled your name?”
“Uh, no. Why?”
“Because you’re engaged to Alexander Stone, that’s why. You should keep yourself informed and know what you’re getting into before you make rash decisions. You need to forget this plan of yours and just trust me. I’m working on the situation. Let me handle it. It’s what I do. Right now, the best thing you can do for Mr. Stone is be there for him. That’s all.”
“I’m trying, but sometimes I don’t feel like it’s enough,” I said quietly.
Hale didn’t respond, but seemed to be mulling over his thoughts before he turned to face forward and put the car in drive. After signaling and merging into traffic, he spoke again.
“Miss Cole, before you started coming around, Mr. Stone was a hard man. Even unforgiving at times. You changed him. I suspect that could be the reason why he’s having nightmares.” He paused and looked at me in the rearview mirror. His eyes were pensive.
“What do you mean? How could I possibly be the reason?”
“You made him feel again, Miss Cole. You don’t need to embark on some grand crusade to protect him. You already have all the power you need.”
We didn’t talk anymore on the drive back to Cornerstone Tower. Having just experienced the longest conversation I’ve ever had with Hale, there didn’t seem to be anything else to say. I didn’t ask again about whether or not he would tell Alexander about my visit to the DA. There was no need to. I knew he wouldn’t, even if the words were left unspoken.
When Hale and I pulled up to the towering fifty-story structure, I looked up to the sleek spire that topped the building. Low lying gray clouds hid it from view. It was as if it disappeared into nothingness, embodying the answers that I searched for but couldn’t see. I still didn’t know what I was going to do. I was so conflicted, not knowing if I were coming or going. But, at the very least, I felt like Hale and I had come to an understanding.
Once I was back in my office, I sat at my desk and pondered over the conversation I had with him. He told me that I had all the power I needed. It was just up to me to figure out how to use it. However, the comment he made about whether or not I had ever Googled my name was nagging at me more than anything else.
I was due to meet Alexander and the architect in about an hour. I had plenty of work to do to pass the time, but I couldn’t concentrate on it. On a whim, I turned toward my computer and opened the online search engine. I typed in KRYSTINA COLE NYC. I felt a sense of déjà vu, as I had once completed a similar search when I was trying to discover who Alexander was. I remembered the numerous articles I found on him, but nothing prepared me for what a search of my name revealed.
The number of results that populated were astounding. What was even more shocking were the publications that my name was listed in.
This can’t be right. It’s got to be someone else with the same name as me.
My name was listed in everything from local online blogs to Rolling Stone. I scrolled down the list, one by one, in utter disbelief. I didn’t know how I was unaware of this until now. But then again, I wasn’t in the habit of Googling myself and Alexander forbade me to use social media. I was starting to see why.
As I read through the many news links, I found that most of them were about Alexander with my name tossed in here or there. However, there were some that speculated about our relationship and I began to get angry. If I read one more article about how I was a supposed gold-digger, I might scream. Not now, nor was I ever, after Alexander’s money.
There were several pictures of me, many of which were taken at a few events that Alexander and I attended. It was sort of surreal, as I hadn’t even realized our picture was being taken at the time. However, there were other photos of just me. These were the pictures that really grated on my nerves. They varied in location. Some were taken as I waited in line for coffee at La Biga. Others were taken in random parts of the city as I went about my day. Each image was captioned with arbitrary things, such as the name of the designer for the clothes I wore or the notation of a recent haircut. They even knew the name of my hair salon.
What the fuck?
The intrusion was infuriating. But it was also scary. A chill raced down my spine and I couldn’t help but to think of Princess Diana’s fatal car crash and the paparazzi. While I wasn’t nearly as popular as the beloved Royal, the invasion of privacy she must have felt had to mirror my own to some extent. Suddenly, Alexander’s insistence on a bodyguard didn’t seem all that unreasonable anymore.
As I continued to click through the links, I came across an article about Alexander that was written by Mac Owens. It was dated five years back and published by a newspaper I had never heard of. I skimmed through the text, not finding much of it interesting. In fact, the content was pretty dry, despite its lengthiness. It mostly spoke of Alexander’s wealth and speculated income. There were references to property holdings that extended from New York all the way to the Florida Keys. It reminded me of my conversation with Thomas Green about how far Alexander’s influence extends. While I was sure Alexander didn’t keep this information from me deliberately, I decided that it should be something we discussed before we were wed.
Considering Mac Owens’ current project with Charlie, finding an earlier piece he had written about Alexander was ironic. I exited out of the article and switched up my search. I wanted to see if he had published anything else related to Alexander or Stone Enterprise.
I didn’t find anything else, but I did discover that Mac got his start in journalism at a well-known tabloid. There were pages and pages of links, many of which gave the reader stories about local and world-renowned celebrities. The more I read, the more my stomach began to turn.
Hale was right. Mac Owens was not a stereotypical gossip columnist, but an investigative journalist – one who thrived on digging up dirt about celebrities, politicians, and other public figures. What Hale failed to mention was that this man destroyed families, reputations, and in some cases, marriages of unsuspecting people. Seeing what he did made me sick.
And I planned on talking to this sleaze bag…
Perhaps that was why Hale suggested I Google my name. He must have known the direction my search would take. No matter what his reasons where, I learned more than I wanted to learn. Mac Owens could be potentially dangerous in more ways than one. I no longer had any intention to meet with him in the future. Instead, I planned to heed Alexander’s demands regarding my protection. I may not always like following his orders, but I needed to remember that there was alwa
ys a reason for giving them.
20
alexander
“Hi, this is Justine. Please leave a message.”
I hung up my cell phone and tossed it on the desk. For the third time today, I was sent to my sister’s voicemail. She wasn’t even answering emails. I was confident that she’d respond to the email about the Carnegie Medal of Philanthropy, but even that didn’t entice her to resurface.
Where the fuck is she?
I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling the beginning of a headache coming on. I ignored the documents I still needed to sign and the flood of emails that needed to be sorted. I had been working non-stop since eight that morning, but Justine had been on my mind through it all.
The location service setting on her phone was turned off, so Hale was unable to locate her that way. I had Bryan pull up the expense reports and credit card statements, but I still came up empty. The only thing I found were a few ATM withdrawals made in various parts of the city. Each one was for three hundred dollars. Wherever Justine was, she was using cash.
At the very least, that bit of activity led me to believe there wasn’t any foul play. Nevertheless, I planned to go to her condo later on just to make sure. Cautious instincts or not, I could not put it off any longer.
I roughly pushed away from the desk and stood, slamming the chair into the expansive window behind me. I needed a mental break. Between Justine, Charlie’s case, that goddamned article, and the tension between Krystina and me, my nerves were shot. While Krystina and I seemed to be in a better place than we were a few days prior, there was still a faint strain that loomed between us and I didn’t know why. The only positive thing in my life seemed to be business. Everything was running smoothly, all the puzzle pieces fitting nicely together. It was my one constant.
I paced back and forth in my office, a sort of restless energy settling over me. My normal life, one that I strived to keep measured and controlled, had been in a tailspin for months. No matter what I did, there always seemed to be another shoe that dropped. I raked my hands through my hair in frustration before pounding my fists against the window glass.
The sound of my fists against the glass made me pause. I quickly dropped them to my sides and took a few calming breaths. I needed to get a handle on my temper. Fate was giving me the ultimate test. All the strain and turmoil over the past six months could have broken me. It hadn’t, although I came scarily close to losing it a few times. Nonetheless, the challenge wasn’t over. I still had to find the resiliency to withstand the future. If not for myself, then for Krystina.
A good sparring match with my personal trainer always worked to diffuse my rage. I might have considered calling him that afternoon, but a glance at my watch told me Krystina would be here any minute. We were supposed to meet with Kent Bloomfield, the architect I hired to draw up the plans for the house in Westchester. However, little did she know that I canceled the appointment. Instead, I requested that the blueprints be sent to my office. I would review them personally with her, but I knew she wouldn’t be happy with me for canceling with the prominent architect.
As if on cue, the door to my office opened and Krystina entered. Her face looked flushed, almost feverish.
“Hey, handsome,” she greeted with a smile, despite the fact that she sounded like hell. I immediately crossed the room to go to her. I drew her into my arms and placed a palm to her forehead.
“How are you feeling, angel?”
“Better as the day goes on. I sound worse than I actually feel.”
“Are you taking your medication?”
“Yes, Dr. Stone,” she teased and pulled away. “Every four hours on the nose.”
“Speaking of which, how was your appointment?”
She blinked, as if confused, before her eyes cleared again. More than likely, she’d forgotten that I had access to her calendar.
“Oh, um…good. Just a cold like I thought.”
Her eyes darted around the room nervously and her hands began to fidget. Something was obviously bothering her. Since we hadn’t spoken at all during the day, I wondered if she was upset that I peeked at her schedule. However, I sensed that it was something else entirely.
“What is it, angel?”
She moved over to the seating area in my office and sat down on the plush loveseat. Resting her elbows on her knees, she squeezed the bridge of her nose.
“I Googled my name.”
Fuck.
Although I knew she might do something like that eventually, I had hoped to shield her from the press speculation for as long as possible.
“What made you do that?”
“Curiosity, I guess,” she shrugged.
“I suggest you don’t make a habit of doing that. I’m sure you read a lot of untruths.”
“I did. So many were calling me a gold-digger. You don’t think that, do you?”
I laughed at the absurdity as I sat down next to her.
“No, angel. I don’t think that. I tried to give you a portion of my company, yet you refused. Remember? That’s why I don’t think you should Google too often. Tabloid rumors have the ability to hit an individual’s natural insecurities. It can ruin them if they choose to let it. Don’t let the rumors get to you.”
“I won’t. But I have to say, I was surprised to see how popular I’ve suddenly become. I guess you’re a bigger deal than I realized.”
Her tone was light, but I saw the wheels spinning.
“Don’t go there, Krystina. Don’t feed the beast. You know who I am. I just don’t brag about my wealth, that’s all. How much money I have or what properties I own is not their business. Unfortunately, public records make it hard to hide certain things, but all they have is speculation about the rest.”
She took a deep breath and sighed.
“I know you’re right. It was just so strange to see my picture everywhere. Now I understand why you want Hale or Samuel with me all the time.”
My fists clenched. I knew the pictures she was referring to. The intrusion of her privacy was maddening. The fact that her face was all over the internet drove me absolutely insane. And I hated that I had no control over it. The only thing I could do was ensure that she was always protected.
“Does that mean you’ll stop arguing with me about it?”
She smiled sheepishly.
“I suppose I should,” she murmured. She glanced down at the table in front of us and noticed the roll of blueprints for the first time since she arrived. “Oh! Are those the plans? But wait – where’s Kent Bloomfield?”
“I cancelled him. I thought we would go through the blueprints ourselves first.”
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at me.
“You knew I was looking forward to being a part of this process, Alex. Why would you cancel him?”
Her tone was accusing, almost lecturing, and it set me on edge.
“I don’t feel like dealing with people anymore today,” I answered testily. My tone was gruff and I felt her body stiffen beside me. When I spoke again, I adapted a gentler approach. “Look, prying eyes just seem to be everywhere lately. I want a break from it. I know this is important to you, but I need you to meet me in the middle on this. I want to discuss the house plans amongst ourselves. Just me and you, angel. At least for today.”
Her eyes searched mine, so expressive, yet I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Seeming to come to a decision, she placed her hand on my knee and gave it a light squeeze.
“Okay. Let’s have a look at what you’ve come up with so far.”
“Thank you,” I told her, appreciating her agreeability. Leaning in, I pressed a chaste kiss to her temple before pulling the blueprints out of the clear tubular case. I unrolled the plans and spread them out on the low table in front of us. Krystina leaned forward and inspected the drawing. I had already reviewed it, so I allowed her time to absorb the layout and waited for her to speak first. After a moment or two, she gasped.
“Alex, this house is huge! I won’t
be able to keep up with anything this big!”
I laughed.
“I can assure you, ten-thousand square feet in that neck of the woods is small by comparison.”
“But why in the world would we need seven bedrooms?”
“Maybe I want six kids,” I said, waiting to see how she would react. I didn’t really want that many children. In fact, I didn’t know if I wanted the responsibility of even one. However, I would be open to hearing Krystina’s thoughts on the subject. My statement was only meant to feel her out. A look of panic flashed across her face before she quickly recovered.
Interesting…
Unfortunately, that fleeting expression was all I got from her. She didn’t take the bait. Instead, she pointed to another area of the plans.
“There’s a massive carriage house on the back corner of the lot. Who is that for? And what’s this? An eight-car garage?”
She fired off one question after another, her eyes widening more with each one. I needed to put her mind at ease.
“Relax, angel. The extra bedrooms are for overnight guests, such as your mom and Frank. Westchester is a bit of a hike, so I suspect Allyson or Justine might stay on occasion as well,” I explained. My heart tightened at the mention of my sister, but I continued on. “Hale will be in charge of security on the property. Vivian will be responsible for keeping up the house and the grounds. Each of them will have their own private suite in the carriage house.”
“They are just going to pack up and move with us? Where do they live now?”
“One floor down from the penthouse,” I told her, somewhat surprised that she didn’t already know that. “They are aware of the move and have agreed to it. Don’t worry about that. In fact, they are pleased with the arrangements. The extra rooms in the carriage house are for whomever Vivian decides to hire to assist her with her duties. She likes it because the staff she brings on will be right on site.”
Set In Stone Page 16
