His jaw tensed. “The paparazzi got wind of the wedding this weekend. They also have photos. Probably sourced from a caterer or someone who facilitated on Saturday, and now the photos have been leaked with lots and lots of speculation. Celebrity news in every format knows about you and me. I had hoped we could have a long time of incognito and quiet before we were faced with this kind of thing. But, that time has evaporated, I’m afraid.”
“What are they saying?”
“Here’s CNZ’s top story of the day.” He handed me his phone with a screenshot and photos from the website of a popular celebrity-news TV show. REAL LIFE CINDERELLA STORY—BLACKSTONE BILLIONAIRE CLAIMED BY THE MAID’S GRANDDAUGHTER the headline read. There was a picture of us together at the wedding. Caleb and I dressed to the nines, standing in the doorway of Stone Church, taken just at the moment when he’d kissed the top of my head. The lighting in the photo made it look as if my dress were white instead of the multicolored gold lace it was actually made of. The photo was misleading and suggestive—as if we were the bride and groom, coming out of the chapel newly married. If I were seeing it from a bystander’s viewpoint, I would certainly think so. Done purposefully to appear as if we’d had the secret wedding instead of Herman and Nan. The truth wildly stretched to make a nonstory into a headline, which would sell more papers and magazines. Fucking hell.
Oh, my God. “Caleb, I don’t know what to say.” And I really didn’t, because it was shocking to think the general public was seeing my picture, and reading my name, and . . . watching me. Do they know? Did the Pattens know where I was? Marcus’s family had stayed away, but they had to suspect I knew things about them. Or did they think they were untouchable? I wondered if I should be afraid.
“You don’t have to say anything, Brooke. I dreaded this happening eventually, but hoped we could have a more gradual introduction of you and me as a couple to the public. The paparazzi dog me all the time, and I fucking hate them. Unfortunately, the wedding tipped them off, or more likely somebody on the island offered the tip for money.” He grimaced disgustedly. “It happens all the time.”
“So, your phone calls just now were to stop the stories?”
His expression softened in sympathy—for me. “I wish I had that power, baby, oh how I wish.” He tucked a loose piece of hair behind my ear. “No, I am afraid we have been outed. It’s out there for public consumption now. The paparazzi is going to stalk you and follow you around and write things that are not true about you in the media. They will take your picture and ask you questions when they catch you off guard. The more controversial the story or unflattering the picture, the more valuable it becomes to them, because it sells more papers.”
“But, I don’t want attention like that, Caleb. I don’t want it—I can’t bear to be followed around and pictures—”
“Shhhhh.” He pressed me against his chest, his hand holding me securely at the back of my neck. “It’s okay. Remember what I said when I started this conversation. I love you, and you need to trust me. I am handling it.”
“But how does that work, Caleb?” I asked sadly. I couldn’t imagine what he could say to calm the panic rising up inside me.
“I’ve already put in motion to have security on you every second I’m not with you. You shouldn’t go into your office today or maybe this entire week. You can work from the penthouse and have Eduardo come meet you there. I can call your boss when we get to my office.”
“Bloody security guards?” I couldn’t even imagine that scenario.
“I’m afraid it’s necessary, baby. I’m so sorry, but it wouldn’t be safe for you without security, and I won’t take that chance. You’re too precious, and there are too many fucking lunatics in the world.”
“Like someone might try to kidnap me for ransom or something?” Where had all the oxygen gone? I felt suddenly sick.
“Oh fuck, don’t say that. Nobody is going to get close enough to have the chance to do anything to you. I will make sure. Brooke, baby . . . it’s okay. You’ve just gotten a rude introduction to how the media feeds off celebrities just because they have fame, or in my case, wealth.”
“You’re angry about what they’ve said about us,” I said from against his chest where he was holding me so close to his heart.
“What? Angry? No! I’m not angry about the picture or what it suggests. I love you, and we are together. End of. They would’ve gotten hold of it eventually. I’m so sorry, Brooke, but it’s just one of those not-so-pleasant consequences that come with being with me.”
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t really. The shock of what he was saying had barely registered in all parts of my very befuddled brain. Caleb rubbed a hand up and down my back while he held me.
The silence drew out, becoming uncomfortable as the seconds ticked on. Finally, I pulled myself out of his hold and looked down at my lap. I couldn’t meet his eyes.
“Brooke?” His voice sounded thready.