I don’t know how long I cry. I’m sick with it, my stomach aching and writhing.
I feel someone else come into the room, and then a big hand strokes the back of my head. It’s Gray. “Fi-Fi, we’ll get you through this.”
He talks so low, it’s barely audible. But the anger under his words is fierce. I appreciate it, but he’s wrong. No one can help me through this. The world has labeled me a grasping whore who fucked Ethan Dexter for a prize and took pictures of it. God, they’ve made what we are so ugly and foul.
Ivy backs away, and Gray bends down to pick me up. For some reason, this makes me cry more. I love Gray for his care. But I want Ethan here to carry me.
Gray sets me down on my bed, and Ivy pulls the covers high before climbing in with me. Their soft murmurs go over my head as I burrow down, but Gray soon leaves the room.
“I’m so embarrassed,” I whisper.
“I know. We’ll find out what happened. Then I’m going to kick some serious ass.” There’s a hard note of accusation in her voice I don’t like.
“Ethan didn’t do this.”
Her body tenses. “I know. But it’s out there now, and we have to think of damage control.”
That squirming feeling goes through my insides again. “The damage is done, Ivy.”
She gives me a light kiss on my shoulder. “Get some sleep. We’re here for you.”
The idea gives me little comfort. For the first time in my life, I feel truly helpless.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Dex
Has a flight ever been so fucking slow? By the time I land, I’m nearly out of my mind. Usually I’m careful of my size, wary of accidentally bumping into someone and sending them flying. Today, I use it in my favor, shouldering my way past slow-moving people.
My insides are rolling so hard I have to swallow several times to avoid being sick. It didn’t matter that I contacted my phone provider and reported my phone stolen. The damage was already done. Because I’m the stupid, lazy ass who didn’t use password protection. I’m the one who let some spiteful, desperate girl slip out of my room with my phone, and she sold the pictures on there to the tabloids.
And it isn’t just pictures she sold, but text messages between Fi and me. Personal thoughts are now fodder for the world. But those pictures. Fi, my girl, the person I care about most, displayed as if she’s nothing more than a thing.
It makes me so insane I can’t see straight. It doesn’t matter that I have lawyers on my side, threatening to sue, ordering take downs. The pictures are out, and the Internet is forever.
The world has seen Fiona exposed. I fucking hate that. I cannot stand the idea of guys looking at her that way. Not without her permission, without her consent.
A snarling noise comes from deep inside of me. And it’s all I can do not to start screaming or fucking crying. Because it’s my fault. All my fault.
The taxi drive is even worse. The motherfucker recognizes me.
“Hey, man! You’re Ethan Dexter!”
Like I don’t know my own fucking name. I ball my fists and push them hard into my thighs. Hard enough to stress the muscles there. Go. Just Go. Get me to Fi.
“You really a virgin, man?” Clueless fuck who’s about to get pummeled chuckles. “Well, not anymore, eh? That’s some sweet piece—”
“Say another word and you’ll lose your tongue,” I snap.
The cabbie blanches, his eyes bugging out. Hell. He might throw me out of the cab, and I’ll be stuck on the side of the fucking highway while Fi suffers. I force myself to breathe.
“That’s my lady you’re talking about, all right?”
The cabbie nods, his gaze darting between me and the road in front of him. “Yeah, man. That’s cool. Uh…no disrespect meant.”
I grind my teeth, trying to calm. “If you could just get me home as quickly as possible.”
“Sure, man. Sure. No problem.”
With that, my talkative cabbie speeds up.
* * *