“If you’re sure. I’ll be right here, honey. Call if you need me.”
I nod again and climb out of the car. Dread thunders through my veins like it’s the iron in my blood, and I can hardly breathe as I make my way to the entrance of their building. Foolishly, I still feel a tiny glimmer of hope that one of them will see me and realize what complete fuckwits they’re being.
“Ms. Sloane.” The doorman gives me a curt nod. “Your things are here for you.” He opens the door to the building and indicates a small pile of neatly stacked boxes along with my suitcase and backpack sitting in the lobby.
I sway on my feet and tears blur my vision, but I notice the stupid electric bike leaning on the wall. Is that supposed to be my parting gift—my consolation prize?
I swallow down a thick knot of emotion. “Where’s my bike?”
“It’s right there, miss.”
I glare at the doorman. “No. My bike. The one I came here with.”
He blinks at me, confused.
“Where is my goddamn bike?”
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I storm through the lobby toward the elevator, and he chases after me. “Miss, you can’t go up there.”
“I don’t want to go up there. I want my goddamn bike back,” I screech, wholly aware that I look and sound like I’m in the throes of a mental breakdown, but I don’t care. I don’t want their charity. I don’t want anything from them. I never even want to see them again. “I just want Betty.” I sink to the floor, drop my head between my knees, and sob.
I hear the faint buzzing of a phone and then the doorman’s voice. “She says she wants her bike.”
A fresh wave of anger and hurt washes over me. They’re watching? Those sick fucks. Renewed by my fury, I stand and wipe the tears from my face, glaring at the doorman even though I know he’s simply a pawn in whatever twisted game they’re playing. “Her name is Betty.”
“Betty?” the doorman says with a puzzled look on his face. A second later, he ends the call and flashes me a sympathetic smile. How many other women has he watched this happen to? “Your bike will be here in a moment. Would you like me to help you with your things?”
I haul my backpack onto my back, pick up a suitcase, and straighten my shoulders. “No, I don’t need any help.”
Chapter
Forty-Four
WEST
Xander walks into the kitchen holding today’s mail in his hand, and my heart sinks. Today’s the day we discover the true depth of her betrayal.
“Is that it?” I nod at the advanced copy of the magazine that was FedExed here at my request.
His knuckles are white around the glossy pages. “Yeah,” he rasps. “I almost opened it, but I …” He shakes his head and runs his free hand through his hair.
Zeke steps up beside me, arms folded across his chest. “Open it, Fitch. Let’s see what the hell she wrote about us,” he says, his voice little more than a throaty growl.
Xander swallows, his eyes darting between mine and Zeke’s.
“Do it,” I bark, ready to get this over with. I can’t assess exactly how much damage control will be needed until I see what she wrote, and I want to get a jump start on that before it hits the shelves tomorrow.
Xander’s fingers tremble as he unfurls the pages and opens the magazine. He scans the contents section, a frown pinching his dark brows together.
Zeke rocks on the balls of his feet. “You see it?”
Xander grunts and flicks through the pages, frantically searching for the evidence of Lily’s betrayal.
My heart is in my fucking throat, blood thundering in my ears, and all I can do is wait. My fingers twitch with the effort of not tearing the magazine from Xander’s hands. When his blue eyes widen and his skin turns whiter than snow, I’m forced to swallow the bile that burns my esophagus.
Zeke bristles.
“How bad is it?” I force out the words.
Xander’s eyes remain fixed on the page, and his mouth opens but nothing comes out. A look of horror twists his features. What the fuck did she say about us?
“Fitch!” Zeke’s harsh tone doesn’t seem to penetrate Xander’s haze. His knees buckle and he sinks to the floor. The pages of the magazine rustle loudly in his trembling grip, and Zeke snatches it away. Xander drops his head into his hands and lets out an anguished wail.
Concerned for him but needing to know what elicited such a reaction, I jerk my chin at Zeke. He holds up the offending article so we can both read it. The headline stands out in neon pink writing.
The True Horror of the New York City Puppy Trade
The words blur together, and I nearly join Xander on the floor. “What the fuck?” I whisper.
“Nothing …” Xander groans, his voice muffled by his hands. “Not a single fucking word about us.”
Blinking to clear my vision, I quickly scan the article, looking for any mention of us. Any justification at all for the way we treated her. But Xander’s right. There’s nothing.
My eyes drift to the bottom of the second page—by Lily Sloane.
My Lily. Our sweet, beautiful Lily.
What the fuck have we done?
Chapter
Forty-Five
XANDER
I blink at the double-page spread, torturing myself with the pictures of pitiful-looking mama dogs, surrounded by their litters and locked in flea-infested cages. This is what Lily was writing about. Of course it was never about us. Why the fuck would she write an exposé on us? She fucking loves us.
Well, she loved us. And we royally fucked it all to hell and back.
West has his head in his hands while Zeke paces up and down the kitchen.
“So she wasn’t writing an article about us. She wasn’t trying to fuck up our deal. But she was hiding something,” West says. “Her connection to Nico Constantine. What the fuck is that about?”
Zeke stops pacing. “I’ll look into it.”
“Because you did such a stellar fucking job last time.” I snort. The pain that’s etched on his face makes me want to take it back, but I don’t. They fucking caused this. I should have trusted my gut and forced them to speak to her.
“I didn’t have enough time. I’ll …” He clears his throat. “I’ll find out.”
I shake my head. I don’t have time for Zeke’s guilt right now. I want our girl back, and I want her back today. “Your PI said she looked really happy before and after she met this guy, right? That’s why he thought she was going to his room to get laid?”
Zeke frowns. “Yeah.”
“So, he’s obviously someone she cares about. I don’t believe for a single fucking second that she was cheating on us. Where would she have found the time or energy? So he must be a relative. Brother, cousin, uncle?”
West hurries out of the room, muttering under his breath.
Zeke and I stare at each other for a few beats before we go after him. We find him in his office, firing up his computer.
“What is it?” I ask.