A few hours later my phone went off. I was so immersed in the tasting and feeling this rightness in the world that I ignored it.
It went off again.
Frowning, I looked at the screen.
Slade: Whatever you do, do not turn on the TV.
Slade: It’s all just BS.
Slade: I have no idea how they have this information, but I’ll get to the bottom of it, I swear. Matt is working on it for us.
Jagger: Are you okay?
My heart sank, I stopped reading texts and just called Slade. His phone went straight to voice mail.
Matt’s went straight to voice mail.
So did Jagger’s.
Slade: Sorry, was on the phone with Matt. We’re fixing this. It looks bad, fuck I don’t know how the press knows these things, I don’t even know how they know where I live, let alone anything else. Text me when you get off work.
I was shaking by the time I put my phone back in my purse. Tempted to look at the TV or at least search Slade’s name on the internet and see what was going on.
But I trusted him.
And if he told me not to look.
I wasn’t going to look.
Not until he had time to explain to me why he was freaking out and why, an hour later, his phone still went straight to voice mail.
Chapter Forty-Nine
SLADE
“It’s going to be fine,” Matt said smoothly as he sat in my kitchen with a cup of coffee. Paparazzi lined up outside the gate.
And words were getting thrown around that made me want to puke. And her name. Her name was everywhere.
Britney Townsend.
And in every fucking article, every newspaper, all I saw was her teary-eyed confession that even though she cheated on me the baby was mine, which was a lie. The baby was Hawk’s, but now the press was also under the impression that while she was still engaged to Jagger, I’d swept in and basically stolen her out from under him. Jagger and I had sworn not to discuss her publicly. It wasn’t worth the drama or media firestorm that would follow—besides, it had been water under the bridge, they were broken up. Why would someone leak such lies now?
“She’s on her way.” Matt sighed. “How do you want to handle this?”
“We can sue her for breach of contract. She signed an NDA.” I took a sip of the whiskey he’d put in front of me. Damn it, did it always come back to the NDA? “She has pictures of us, man, intimate pictures. Pictures of me naked in bed with her, pictures of Jagger naked with her. It looks bad. She has pictures of my dad she’s trying to sell, my family in intimate settings—she’s—” I growled low in my throat. “None of what she’s saying is true. She didn’t cheat on Jagger with me. That’s bullshit. They were completely broken up by then!”
Matt sighed. “Does it matter anymore? She’s pregnant, she paints a damning story basically making you look like the guy who steals another guy’s fiancée, gets her pregnant, then abandons her in order to get a bigger contract. And your old teammate, Hawk, isn’t helping things. He’s claiming that the breakup was all a publicity stunt you created to get more money and marketing campaigns.”
I swiped my hand across the flowers Mack had put in the middle of the table. They went crashing to the hard tile floor. The sound of glass breaking was almost as piercing as the buzz of the gates as they opened.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Jagger was the first to walk in the room five minutes later.
Followed by Britney.
She was still beautiful, with long, pitch-black hair, blue eyes, a wide smile, and a dusting of freckles across her nose. She was at least seven months pregnant, but I wanted to throw her out of my house the minute she smiled in my direction.
“Hey, baby.” She grinned and rubbed her swollen belly.
“No.” I held up my hand. “Hell. No.”
Jagger actually coughed behind his hand like he was covering a laugh, which couldn’t be right.
Matt flipped over his phone to record, and pointed to the seats.
“Britney, you’re aware you aren’t allowed to speak to the press about Slade in any way, shape, or form, correct?” Matt asked in a dry tone.
She reached for my hand.
I jerked it back.
Jagger stared straight ahead like he’d rather be burning in hell than sitting in my house. Get in fucking line.
She tilted her head and gave Matt a soft, conniving smile. “I would never go to the press about Slade. I signed an NDA.”
NDA—I hated that term.
“Besides,” she added, “doesn’t he have other things to worry about, like Jagger stealing his new girlfriend?”
Jagger crossed his arms. “What the hell happened to you?”
“She’s always been like this,” Matt ground out. “You two were just thinking with your dicks.”
Britney glared. “Shut up, Matt. You’re just jealous because you never went pro like they did.”
“No, I just think before I stick my prick into a conniving, money-hungry witch. Take that to the press, you psycho.”
Jagger ran his hands down his face.
I rubbed my temples with my hands. “If you didn’t say anything to the press about us, if you didn’t give them those pictures that have been leaked all over the universe, who did?” I wondered out loud. “And why the hell would you say the pregnancy and cheating scandal was a publicity stunt? Cheating should never be a publicity stunt, and you know none of it’s true. Matt’s right, you’ve lost it.”
She just grinned. “Hawk’s out of the picture, I’m your ex-girlfriend. It’s the best story ever, you take me back, we raise our baby, and we all live happily ever after.”
“Should we invite Jagger in on that too? Maybe let Matt play godfather?” I narrowed my eyes at her. How could I have ever thought she was anything but a vapid, insecure girl with dollar signs in her eyes? She didn’t even blink, just lifted her chin like she somehow deserved to be sitting at that table when she’d done nothing but try to break it apart with her bare hands.
The sound of the gate buzzing open alerted me to another visitor. Great.
I groaned into my hands.
Again.
“It’s Mack,” Matt said in a low voice.
Jagger stood so fast his chair flipped backward.
I stared up at him. I felt my entire face pale. I was bringing her into this, my fault. She wanted out of the press and now they were painting her as the woman who came between me and my pregnant ex-fiancée.
Fantastic.
It wasn’t true. But the media didn’t care. It sold stories, it got ratings, and right now the fact that Mack was left at the altar only to run away with soccer’s newest bad boy . . . the entire story was like an expensive all-you-can-eat buffet.
“Let her in,” I whispered.
Matt hit the comm.
I counted the seconds until she parked.
Until she was walking up the stairs like she used to.
Alfie ran to the door.
She greeted him first.
“I always knew I liked that dog,” Jagger said to no one in particular.
I gave him a look of disgust.
He gave me a look of pity.
I hung my head in my hands as Mack rounded the corner. “Hey, guys, what’s—”
Her eyes fell to Britney.
She would recognize her from the pictures.
And if her face didn’t give it away, the belly sure would.
“What’s going on?” Her voice shook.
I wanted to wrap her in my arms and tell her everything was going to be okay. I stood, ready to do exactly that, when Britney piped up. “She signed an NDA, like everyone in your circle, right?”
“What?” Mack’s voice was small. “What are you talking about? Why does it matter?”
My gut twisted as I looked between Britney and Mack.
Britney looked triumphant.
Mack looked ready to hurl.
“Look,” Britney said in an i
nnocent voice, “all I’m saying is Matt and I have ironclad NDAs, Jagger has an ironclad NDA—and this bitch—”
“Watch it,” I growled.
“This strange woman”—Britney rolled her eyes—“better have an NDA too. Otherwise, she’s the one that leaked something to the press. Easy. She wants attention.”
“Easy?” Mack repeated. “How the hell is that easy? I would never do that to Slade, and why would I? I don’t need the money, unlike some people!” Mack countered the attack without hesitation.
Attagirl.
I almost cheered for her out loud.
Britney leaned back. “I’m not saying you did anything for money, it just seems suspicious. I mean your motives are your own . . . right, Matt?”
Matt bit out a curse. “Slade, did Mack ever sign anything in reference to Mexico or . . . personal matters?”
“No.” I licked my lips. “But I never even told her about me and Britney, about the whole fucked-up love triangle with Jagger. I haven’t said a word. I should have.” Mack was white as a ghost. “I should have but—”
She shook her head and looked straight at Jagger, who looked equally shocked.
Jagger swallowed and looked away, guilt dripping off every feature. “I may have told her a few days ago.”
“What!” I roared. “That wasn’t your business to tell!”
“She asked, man!” He jumped to his feet. “I was trying to warn her away from you the same way I warned Britney away, and now look what happened!”
I clenched my fists. “You had no right.”
“Neither did I,” Mack said in a small voice. “I should have asked you, not Jagger . . .”
I squeezed my eyes shut and faced Mack. “I need you to be honest, Mack. Did you go to the press? I want to believe you. I want to believe this is all just a nightmare.”
Her crestfallen expression should have been my answer, but she wasn’t saying anything, she just stared right through me like she was paralyzed. “Mack, I need you to talk to me, I need you to tell me.”
“It doesn’t matter, does it?” she rasped. “I didn’t go to the press, Slade. I love you. I would never hurt you. The fact that you even asked . . .” Tears dripped down her cheeks.
“Mack, wait!” She was out the door before I could stop her. Alfie tried running after her, tripping me in the process.
She made it all the way to her car and started it.
I banged on the car window with my palm. “Mack!”
She didn’t look at me, just peeled out of my driveway and out the iron gate that she used to drive through with such care.
Cameras flashed.
Paparazzi yelled.
I felt nothing.
I heard nothing.
I walked back inside the house, grabbed the glass of whiskey, and drank the entire thing.
“So . . .” Britney grinned. “Now that that’s settled . . . I was thinking, we can do a quick press conference, right, Matt? We’ll tell everyone we’re back together, Mack takes the fall, and Jagger can tell the truth—that he introduced me and Slade and we just hit things off.”
“Truth.” Jagger snorted out a laugh. “The truth is, you were fucking us at the same time!”
I blinked at him, then at her. “What the hell!”
Britney shrugged. “I wasn’t sure Slade was a sure thing, plus he was a player. When I actually got to know him—” She turned to me. “To know you, it was different, so much deeper than what I had with Jagger.”
“What bullshit,” Jagger said under his breath. “You’re lucky you’re pregnant, Brit, otherwise I’d be chasing you with my car right about now.”
Matt cleared his throat. “Mack wouldn’t leak this. She has no motive, nothing to gain. So I’m going to ask you again, Britney . . .”
She shook her head. “No, it’s her, it has to be her. This will work. The press will forget about it, everything is going to be fine.”
“Brit,” Jagger asked softly. “Where’s Hawk?”
She bit down on her lower lip and looked away. “Gone.”
“I see.”
“Britney, I can understand you being scared,” Matt said in his empathetic voice he used to calm people down. “But pulling people’s names through the mud—that’s not how we do things.”
“No, we just sleep with the help, right, Slade? And punch people at restaurants.”
I frowned. “What was that?”
She paled. “I said sleep with the help.”
“The other part.” I licked my lips. “About punching people at restaurants.”
“It was on the news.”
“Not the international news,” Matt said quickly.
“I follow CNN.”
“You don’t follow shit.” I laughed. “Britney, I’m going to ask you just this once . . . who the hell did you talk to?”
She stared at her hands.
I looked to Matt for help.
He drummed his fingers against the countertop. “How much did you get for the story?”
“A million,” she said blatantly. “And another two for the cover of People—with Slade. They didn’t want Hawk.”
I eyed her cell.
The one she’d been gripping like a lifeline.
“Well.” I gave her my hand. “I guess that’s it. Two million . . .”
Jagger’s eyes were bugging out of his head as I stood and helped her to her feet.
“Baby, it’s going to be great!” She was practically dancing.
“Yeah, perfect, just one thing. Don’t you think we should take a selfie? Like old times? For the Insta feed?”
Vain, crazy woman.
“Yes!”
“My phone’s dead. Let’s use yours.”
She was too busy primping to realize what I was doing. I took the phone, typed in her password, and tapped on texts.
A: I have everything you need but I need my cut too.
A: She was at Jagger’s house for two hours.
A: I can’t get any good pictures of them in the stadium, too dark. He has a blanket.
A. I want more money. Leave my name out of this. She wouldn’t sign an NDA. I know her, she’s stubborn.
A: I want half a mil for the information.
B: how do I even know you have it? I want proof.
A: I have the iPad linked to her cell—trust me, I have screen shots and records of everything, and I followed her twice to the stadium. If we both combine the information we have, it will look like she’s guilty and we may just get lucky.
B: Agreed. But only one payment.
A: Sure.
I’d seen enough. She was smart enough to at least not charge toward me in an effort to get her phone.
I handed it over to Matt. “Read the texts with her and A.”
I turned to Britney. “Who’s A?”
Tears filled her eyes. “He said it would be easy!”
“I’m sure he did.” I rolled my eyes. “Who’s A?”
“I don’t know!” she cried. “Alright, he said his name was Alton! That’s all I know!”
“Fuck, you should have killed him when you had the chance, Slade,” said Jagger, glaring at Britney. “Matt, sorry, man, you’re going to have to bail us both out of prison.”
Matt shook his head slowly, then glared up at Britney. “Let me deal with this one first, and I’ll be right there.”
Tears spilled onto her cheeks. “Slade! You don’t understand. We were perfect. I messed up. I get that. But Hawk, he’s not even in the picture anymore. We can fix this! Just think of the possibilities!”
“Oh, I have,” I said with heavy sarcasm. “And it sounds like my version of hell, been there, done that. I’m sorry, and I hope you have a safe pregnancy. But I need you to get the fuck off my property. Now.”
“But where will I go?”
“Looks like you got half a mil, Britney, I don’t know, stay at a hotel. Better yet, wait for some rich old guy you can sink your talons into, he probably won’t even care that you�
�re a lying, cheating whore.”
“Watch it!” she seethed.
“Out. Of. My. House.”
Matt stood and held out his hand for her to leave. Head high, she said through clenched teeth, “You’ll regret this.”
The minute the door slammed, Jagger grabbed the whiskey bottle, tilted it back, winced, and said hoarsely, “No regrets.”
He handed me the bottle.
I took it without hesitation. “I messed up.”
“Yeah.”
Another swig.
“Mack hates me.”
“Probably.”
“I need to grovel.”
“Yup.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You aren’t helping.”
“I’m sorry,” he blurted. “For not telling you that Brit was cheating on both of us. Honestly I hated you at the time, I didn’t think you’d even believe me.”
I snorted. “I probably wouldn’t have.”
He sighed. “So what are you going to do?”
“Chase.”
Chapter Fifty
MACKENZIE
I couldn’t see straight as I drove back to my house. And when I opened a bottle of wine and sat in front of the TV, I realized how bad the situation really was.
The picture they were painting of me wasn’t good.
Apparently, I’d known Slade all this time.
They showed old pictures of me and Alton with Jagger, which linked me to Slade since Jagger had introduced Slade to Britney.
They were calling him a serial girlfriend stealer.
Me a cheater.
Alton a hero.
How the hell did Alton come out looking good?
Britney was a total victim.
And Jagger? Well, they just made him look stupid.
The more I watched, the more angry I got.
I dried my tears.
And stared at the reporters, who didn’t give a flying rat’s ass who they hurt or how long it took to get over the poisonous words they tossed around like candy.
With shaking hands I sent Matt a text from my own phone, not the one I’d been given.
Me: I didn’t out them.
Matt: I know that.
Me: I want to do a press conference.
Matt: Um, what?
Me: At the winery. I want to tell my side of the story. We can control the location, we can control everything.
Risky Play Page 21
