Time moved with no sense of reason as I followed Hale out to the waiting Porsche Cayenne. His determined footsteps echoed down the steps and onto the pavement toward the car, drowning out the noises of the city. When he opened the car door for me, his glare was icy. He never looked at me that way before. It was almost frightening.

I’m so screwed.

I got into the car and Hale closed the door behind me. I waited as he walked around to get into the driver’s seat. As soon as he was seated, I started rambling.

“Hale, I’m sorry. I don’t know how you knew where I was, but you seem angry. Please don’t tell Alex about this. He’ll be –.”

“Miss Cole!” he snapped. He turned around in his seat to face me and held up his hand. “First of all, I have access to the GPS tracking on your phone. You know this. Now imagine my surprise when Samuel comes to me about your supposed doctor appointment. You and I both know that you didn’t have a doctor appointment.”

I shrunk under his words. Hale wasn’t just angry. Yes, his tone was near murderous, but there was worry in his eyes too.

“No, I didn’t have a doctor appointment,” I whispered, feeling ashamed. “Are you going to tell Alex?”

He pursed his lips to form a tight line.

“Tell me why you lied and ditched your security detail,” he demanded, rather than answering my question.

“Like I said, I’m sorry. I just didn’t know any other way.”

“Any other way to do what?”

A sudden wave of emotion hit me, and tears began to sting my eyes. Perhaps it was from lack of sleep. Or maybe it was because I was just caught in the act. No matter what the excuse was, deep down I knew the underlying issue. It was because I was overwhelmed with worry for Alexander.

I blinked the tears back, feeling frustrated. I didn’t know how to explain this all to Hale. I didn’t know how to explain the many nights Alexander was tormented by nightmares. I didn’t know how to describe the shadows that plagued his eyes during the mornings afterward. But most importantly, I was fraught with worry over the possible legal ramifications Charlie’s interview might hold for Alexander. There were no words to depict how bad my heart ached over the possibility of losing the person I loved above all else, and all because of a gambling addict’s greed. The compulsion I felt to save Alexander from the past, to make it disappear for him, was overpowering.

Hale is Alexander’s protector. If he couldn’t do the very thing I was seeking to do, what made me think I had that power? I’m a nobody.

Suddenly, I felt foolish. There would be no satisfactory explanation for my actions. The lies, the sneaking around. I had always been a straight shooter. However, I had irrationally allowed desperation to take over who I was. In fact, desperation didn’t even begin to describe how I felt. I yearned, with every fiber of my being, to go back to the place Alexander and I had been when he proposed to me on a hilltop in Westchester. In that moment, it had been just us. Now, it was as if it were the two of us against the world.

How had so much changed so fast?

The tears I had been holding back came flooding down my cheeks. Words came bubbling out of me as the pent-up frustration boiled over.

“I just…I just needed to do something!” I sobbed. “The article, Charlie, Justine. Alex’s constant quest for answers. The threat of losing him. Everything! I tried therapy with him and it was a disaster. I’ve tried to get him to talk it out with me, but he shuts down – especially after he’s had a nightmare. I don’t know what else to do! I can’t just sit by and watch him suffer anymore, Hale. I just can’t. It’s not fair that he’s being threatened the way that he is. He was just a child and he doesn’t deserve this!”

Hale watched me curiously and his expression softened, revealing a certain amount of compassion over my sudden outburst.

“Vivian was right,” he eventually said.

“Vivian?” I asked, confused as to why he would bring up Alexander’s housekeeper – our housekeeper.

“She was right about the nightmares. She had her suspicions and she voiced her concerns to me. Not to mention, I’m familiar with the haunted look Mr. Stone has at times. I saw it often when he was a boy. You just confirmed what I suspected.”

I sat quietly for a moment, composing myself as I contemplated Hale’s words. I thought about Vivian and how she was always there, yet she wasn’t. I barely saw her, but I knew she was in the penthouse several times a day. Whether she was delivering fresh laundry, bringing groceries, or preparing a meal, our meetings were always polite and brief. For me, getting to know her was an odd concept, as I still wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of having a housekeeper. I didn’t know how to act. However, I was now beginning to regret not getting to know the woman who had been with Alexander for years.

How much does Vivian know about Alexander’s past?

I made a mental note to try to engage in conversation with her in the very near future.

“What were you doing at the DA’s office, Krystina.”

Hale’s words broke me away from my thoughts. As he sat there, waiting patiently for my answer, I knew hiding the truth from him would be futile. Knowing Hale, he’d find out anyway. I hastily brushed the tears from my face and composed myself.

“I’m trying to help Alex, but I need time. I was hoping that Thomas Green would be willing to push the trial back.”

I went on to explain everything that transpired since I read the article. Well, mostly everything. I left out the part about my experience on the St. Andrews Cross for obvious reasons. When I finally got to the part about my plan to talk to Mac Owens, Hale’s eyes darkened again.

“Did you tell the DA about the contents of the unpublished article?”

“No, absolutely not,” I quickly replied. “I would never jeopardize Alex or Justine like that.”

Hale seemed to relax a bit, but his expression remained bleak.

“You will not talk to that reporter, Miss Cole.”

His tone mirrored one that Alexander would take with me sometimes. It was maddening.

“But I have to try something!”

“You’re a smart woman, but you’re being incredibly naïve at the moment. Mac Owens has been trying to dig up dirt on Mr. Stone for years. What kind of story could you give him that would convince him to drop the one he’s always wanted?”

I slumped back in my seat, not sure if I wanted to tell him about what I wanted to do. Hell, I wasn’t even sure if I could do it. Just the thought of it caused my heart to pound with trepidation.

No. I have to do it. It’s my only shot.

“I kept thinking of all the press reports and speculation Alex constantly warns me about. He keeps me hidden away and shielded from reporters at all costs. However, I know how reporters were chomping at the bit over Trevor’s death.” I paused for a moment, my mouth tasting like ash at the mention of his name. “He came from a prominent family. His father was the CEO of some dot com company and used to be a member of the New York City Council. The details of Trevor’s involvement in my abduction were kept very hush, hush. I can only assume that his father paid people off.”

“What are you trying to say, Miss Cole?”

“The presiding judge decided to keep Charlie’s trial closed to the public. Closure was decided because of decency concerns – because of the testimony I have to give about my history with Trevor. At first, I was grateful, but now I realize that I can use it to my advantage. Considering the press was denied details about Trevor’s involvement in the accident, they are bound to be miffed about being shut out of the trial. I was thinking of offering an exclusive interview of sorts, a personal recount of my experience with the son of an influential family.”

Hale rapidly shook his head back and forth.

“Are you trying to tell me that you were going to give the story of your rape to Mac Owens?” he asked in disbelief.

The idea turned my stomach, but I didn’t waiver.

“Yes. If that’s what it takes to get the heat off Alexander, so be it.”

“Mac Owens is slime. He’s not a gossip columnist, but an investigative journalist looking to make his mark any way he can. He’ll sensationalize your story like you can’t imagine, and publish the one about Mr. Stone. He’d never agree to a trade. You’d basically be offering him a two-for-one deal. There isn’t a decent bone in the man’s body. You can’t talk to him. It will destroy you. Not to mention, Mr. Stone would be murderous if you became a victim of the press.”

I blew out a breath in frustration. Hale was most likely right, but I was hard-pressed to come up with anything better. It was beyond irritating. It wasn’t like I wanted to make my sordid tale public. In fact, the idea scared the hell out of me. But, I had to do something.

I tilted my chin up stubbornly.

“Well, help me then. Let’s work together to shut this down, Hale.”

I tried to come across strong, needing to be a goddamned super hero looking to join forces and conquer evil, but Hale wasn’t buying it. He afforded me a small smile and shook his head.

“I know you have the best intentions, but I think you’ve gotten in over your head here. Tell me, Miss Cole. Have you ever Googled your name?”

“Uh, no. Why?”

“Because you’re engaged to Alexander Stone, that’s why. You should keep yourself informed and know what you’re getting into before you make rash decisions. You need to forget this plan of yours and just trust me. I’m working on the situation. Let me handle it. It’s what I do. Right now, the best thing you can do for Mr. Stone is be there for him. That’s all.”

“I’m trying, but sometimes I don’t feel like it’s enough,” I said quietly.

Hale didn’t respond, but seemed to be mulling over his thoughts before he turned to face forward and put the car in drive. After signaling and merging into traffic, he spoke again.

“Miss Cole, before you started coming around, Mr. Stone was a hard man. Even unforgiving at times. You changed him. I suspect that could be the reason why he’s having nightmares.” He paused and looked at me in the rearview mirror. His eyes were pensive.

“What do you mean? How could I possibly be the reason?”

“You made him feel again, Miss Cole. You don’t need to embark on some grand crusade to protect him. You already have all the power you need.”

We didn’t talk anymore on the drive back to Cornerstone Tower. Having just experienced the longest conversation I’ve ever had with Hale, there didn’t seem to be anything else to say. I didn’t ask again about whether or not he would tell Alexander about my visit to the DA. There was no need to. I knew he wouldn’t, even if the words were left unspoken.

* * *

When Hale and I pulled up to the towering fifty-story structure, I looked up to the sleek spire that topped the building. Low lying gray clouds hid it from view. It was as if it disappeared into nothingness, embodying the answers that I searched for but couldn’t see. I still didn’t know what I was going to do. I was so conflicted, not knowing if I were coming or going. But, at the very least, I felt like Hale and I had come to an understanding.

Once I was back in my office, I sat at my desk and pondered over the conversation I had with him. He told me that I had all the power I needed. It was just up to me to figure out how to use it. However, the comment he made about whether or not I had ever Googled my name was nagging at me more than anything else.

I was due to meet Alexander and the architect in about an hour. I had plenty of work to do to pass the time, but I couldn’t concentrate on it. On a whim, I turned toward my computer and opened the online search engine. I typed in KRYSTINA COLE NYC. I felt a sense of déjà vu, as I had once completed a similar search when I was trying to discover who Alexander was. I remembered the numerous articles I found on him, but nothing prepared me for what a search of my name revealed.

The number of results that populated were astounding. What was even more shocking were the publications that my name was listed in.

This can’t be right. It’s got to be someone else with the same name as me.

My name was listed in everything from local online blogs to Rolling Stone. I scrolled down the list, one by one, in utter disbelief. I didn’t know how I was unaware of this until now. But then again, I wasn’t in the habit of Googling myself and Alexander forbade me to use social media. I was starting to see why.

As I read through the many news links, I found that most of them were about Alexander with my name tossed in here or there. However, there were some that speculated about our relationship and I began to get angry. If I read one more article about how I was a supposed gold-digger, I might scream. Not now, nor was I ever, after Alexander’s money.

There were several pictures of me, many of which were taken at a few events that Alexander and I attended. It was sort of surreal, as I hadn’t even realized our picture was being taken at the time. However, there were other photos of just me. These were the pictures that really grated on my nerves. They varied in location. Some were taken as I waited in line for coffee at La Biga. Others were taken in random parts of the city as I went about my day. Each image was captioned with arbitrary things, such as the name of the designer for the clothes I wore or the notation of a recent haircut. They even knew the name of my hair salon.

What the fuck?

The intrusion was infuriating. But it was also scary. A chill raced down my spine and I couldn’t help but to think of Princess Diana’s fatal car crash and the paparazzi. While I wasn’t nearly as popular as the beloved Royal, the invasion of privacy she must have felt had to mirror my own to some extent. Suddenly, Alexander’s insistence on a bodyguard didn’t seem all that unreasonable anymore.

As I continued to click through the links, I came across an article about Alexander that was written by Mac Owens. It was dated five years back and published by a newspaper I had never heard of. I skimmed through the text, not finding much of it interesting. In fact, the content was pretty dry, despite its lengthiness. It mostly spoke of Alexander’s wealth and speculated income. There were references to property holdings that extended from New York all the way to the Florida Keys. It reminded me of my conversation with Thomas Green about how far Alexander’s influence extends. While I was sure Alexander didn’t keep this information from me deliberately, I decided that it should be something we discussed before we were wed.

Considering Mac Owens’ current project with Charlie, finding an earlier piece he had written about Alexander was ironic. I exited out of the article and switched up my search. I wanted to see if he had published anything else related to Alexander or Stone Enterprise.

I didn’t find anything else, but I did discover that Mac got his start in journalism at a well-known tabloid. There were pages and pages of links, many of which gave the reader stories about local and world-renowned celebrities. The more I read, the more my stomach began to turn.

Hale was right. Mac Owens was not a stereotypical gossip columnist, but an investigative journalist – one who thrived on digging up dirt about celebrities, politicians, and other public figures. What Hale failed to mention was that this man destroyed families, reputations, and in some cases, marriages of unsuspecting people. Seeing what he did made me sick.

And I planned on talking to this sleaze bag…

Perhaps that was why Hale suggested I Google my name. He must have known the direction my search would take. No matter what his reasons where, I learned more than I wanted to learn. Mac Owens could be potentially dangerous in more ways than one. I no longer had any intention to meet with him in the future. Instead, I planned to heed Alexander’s demands regarding my protection. I may not always like following his orders, but I needed to remember that there was always a reason for giving them.