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I manage to pull myself away from Rhea and convince her to drop me off at home. Once I’m there, I take one look at my bedroom and that ocean overwhelms me. I collapse onto my knees as wave after wave of pain pummels me.
That’s the bed where we made love. The bed where a child was conceived. The bed where I thought I could have it all.
The bed where he took the photos that would destroy my career.
I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.
25
Silas
Cold, black dread. That’s what I feel. That’s what drives me onward as I pace in my room, dialing Jazz’s number half a dozen times until I accept that she’s turned her phone off. It’s what makes me tear my door off its hinges and march through the hallway.
I call Paul’s name, and silence answers back.
He’s not here.
As I stand in the luxurious suite in Argyle, surrounded by rich woods and cool tile, with the smell of the Caribbean ocean wafting around me, I realize I’m alone. Truly, completely alone.
Paul betrayed me. There’s a reason he pulled me out of that room, acted strange, insisted on being the one to open the door. He was the distraction that let Liam access those files. He probably knew my passwords and gave them to Birchal. Probably wanted to keep his hands clean, but he was too shitty a liar to keep up the charade. He fucked up, and then he ran.
How long has he sold me out to the tabloids? That diamond-studded watch on his wrist and the expensive suits—did the information he peddled buy those for him? Have I been a complete and utter fool to trust him? For years?
How many times has he made me stumble when prepping me for a speech? How many times has he dug at my insecurities, pushing me to drink, to party, to forget?
How the fuck did I miss it?
I want to tear my hair out. I’m on my own. Another staffer turns the corner at the other end of the hall and comes to a stop, dropping his head. Will he betray me, too? Can I trust any one of the dozens of people that surround me?
No wonder the papers knew about Jazz using the private jet to get back to Nord. No wonder they knew I followed. No wonder the articles spoke about my long conversations with a lover every night. All those intimate details about my private life.
I’ve been so stupid. So caught up in my own mind, my own problems. Lamenting my issues and disabilities and never taking a second to lift my head and take a look around.
My phone rings, and I jam it against my ear. “What?”
“You were doing so well, brother,” Penelope says with a sigh.
“Pen, I don’t have time for this. Paul leaked those photos or helped to leak them. He’s gone. I don’t know who I can trust, and Jazz—”
“Listen to me, Silas.” Her voice is cold. Emotionless. “We’ve been here before. I’m sending a new personal secretary and three members of the royal media team. You’re going to sit tight and wait.”
“I have to—”
“You have to wait. If you jump at the first sign of controversy, come flitting back here banging on your lover’s door, it’ll only stoke the fire. Go to the event tonight in Argyle, put a smile on your face, dismiss the rumors, and act like you’re supposed to.”
Anger fizzles and pops inside me, locking my joints. She expects me to just sit on my hands? To forget that anything is wrong and pretend I’m fine? That I’m okay with Jazz telling me she doesn’t want to see me again? To act like my personal secretary didn’t just stab me in the back with a very sharp dagger?
Through my red haze of anger, I hear Pen’s voice again. It’s gentler than I’ve heard it in a long time. “Silas, we’ll figure this out.” She pauses, waiting for me to answer. “Okay?”
“Fine,” I grunt.
“We need you to continue on this tour. Stopping halfway through will only fuel the rumors. You need to act like nothing at all is wrong.”
“How am I supposed to do that when my personal secretary has betrayed me, I’m being spied on, and the first woman to make me feel something—anything—just told me she never wants to speak to me again?”
“You draw on your training, Silas.” My sister’s voice is so calm. So sure of herself. As if she’s been in my shoes many, many times. Maybe I’ve underestimated her. “You hold your head high and your spine straight, and you make boring small talk with all the people around you, making sure the cameras catch you smiling. You do what you need to do to make it through the next few days, then you come home for the holidays. Then you do it all over again. Understood?”
I nod even though she can’t see me. “Yeah. I understand.”
