M y phone buzzes .

I grab it from the console table.

It’s Callum. I take the call. “Yeah?”

“You okay? Been calling you.”

“I overslept. Sorry. I’m fine.”

“Is Anya okay?”

I freeze. My immediate instinct is to run back to Anya’s bedroom to check on her. But I just left her room a few minutes ago. Or is Callum trying to fish about what he saw at The Vineyard? Callum might have guessed what happened last night in the limo, too, but I’m past caring. I want him to know Anya and I are no longer on the guardian-ward basis. But even my bodyguard won’t dare ask me directly about it. If it’s not a matter of security, it’s none of his fucking business.

You know it’s not that.

I sigh, feeling like a heel. If there’s anyone who treats Anya like his own daughter, it would be Callum. He genuinely cares for her because of Caroline.

I calm the fuck up. “She’s fine, Cal. Why were you calling?”

“There’s something you need to see, Dave.”

“Can’t it wait?”

“I’m afraid not.”

I have a Facebook account for PR purposes. It’s tied up with DNK’s official page. They’re ran by my PR team. I haven’t been on Facebook ever, or Twitter, or whatever apps they have on social media these days. It’s not my thing. I’m not that social a person. I don’t want connection with people who have no significant value in my life. I only care about my own household and the people in it.

It’s no wonder I’ve been clueless of what was happening since this morning.

I stare at the laptop screen.

I’m all over social media with Anya. The gossip blogs have us on their headlines.

It’s a fucking nightmare before my eyes. And it was all my fault.

This happened because I couldn’t keep my hands off of her. I lost it and totally forgot we were in public.

Somebody saw me and Anya kissing at The Vineyard last night, and the motherfucker, whoever he was, captured us in a series of photographs and spread it on the internet.

In six hours, it’s already viral. After six long years of hiatus from the crazy, I’m officially back in the rags. But this time, I’m not the playboy or heartbreaker, or whatever euphemism for womanizer they used to call me in my younger years.

I’m being called worse.

The ugly words swim before my eyes. They make me sick.

Guilt assault me again in spades, and I begin to doubt myself all over again.

Are they right? Am I what they’re calling me?

Sexual predator. Abuser. Seducer. Monster. Molester. Rapist.

I scan the files gathered by Callum. The headlines were screaming.

“High Society Scandal: A not-so-fatherly kiss.”

“Billionaire having an affair with ward? She’s young enough to be his daughter!”

“Scandalous affair! Billionaire David Knight and his ward Anya Jenner share a passionate kiss!”

“Is David Knight abusing his “daughter?”

“The dark Knight: Billionaire seduces young ward?”

The country is still reeling from that Hollywood movie producer who was exposed of grave sexual harassment by several celebrities, and now, here I come, David Knight, billionaire, having a sexual relationship with a teenager who happens to be my ward.

It didn’t even matter that Anya is actually nineteen and no longer a minor. I’m forty-two, an extremely wealthy, influential man, and their sanctimonious minds are stuck in my position of power and our huge age difference. She’s young enough to be my daughter. I’m her guardian, she’s my ward. Those are the facts that matter in their handbook of judgment.

I drop my bulk heavily on a swivel chair and cover my face with my hands.

I’m shaking. This is bad. Very bad.

I planned to introduce my relationship with Anya to society in a manner that is nothing but respectable, because she deserves only the best. But this? Oh God, not like this. Never like this!

I gather myself and meet Callum’s eyes.

He’s not good at hiding his thoughts today.

I see judgment in his eyes, too.

“I love her. She’s going to be my wife,” I tell him straight up.

He continues staring at me hard.

“She loves me, too, Cal,” I add, asking him to understand.

He finally sighs and nods. “I know.”

“You do?”

“For some time now. You were oblivious…or trying to. The girl was miserable. It’s good that you finally…” His voice trails of. He averted his gaze, seemingly embarrassed now.

I definitely didn’t see this coming. Callum knew Anya had feelings for me? I have to ask him about this some more, but that can wait. There are more pressing matters at hand.

“Who did this?”

“I’m still waiting for feedback from our friends.”

I seethe as my mind works on overdrive.

I don’t want Anya to wake up to this. She doesn’t deserve any of this. I knew society would be cruel, but I could take it, all the judgement and condemnation. I’ve been there, done that, but I don’t want my angel to experience any of this ugliness.

“It’s him,” I say. “He’s back.”

“Possibly. But if he wanted to make more money at your expense, he would have blackmailed you with the photographs.”

Callum has a point. Motive is important. Theo Sullivan was a shark. The end game for him was money. Always money.

“Nevertheless, I’m checking on him,” Callum adds.

“Whoever did this, I want his head.”

“On it.”

“And if it’s him, I want him destroyed for good. He hurt Anya, Cal. I don’t want it to ever happen again. ”

He nods, his face stoic.

“I want this handled within twenty-four hours.”

Callum just simply nods again, but I know, he wants the bastard dead as much as I do.

I leave the security room and transfer to my study.

My phone is full of urgent messages from my business associates, VPs, lawyers, accountants and brokers at Wall Street.

I call the head of my PR department first who’s been blowing up my phone the whole morning. I had my phone muted the whole time I was with Anya. I didn’t want any disturbance, and all the while, my company was already in trouble.

I have a feeling it’s already a clusterfuck of epic proportions.

A NYA

I wake up with a smile on my lips.

Yawning, I sleepily grope beside me. I’m alone on the bed.

I’m disappointed that I didn’t wake up with Dave beside me. Again. I was hoping things have changed after last night. Why won’t he stay long enough for me to see him beside me when I wake up in the morning? It would have been nice to feel his warm body pressed to mine as I came to consciousness.

What time is it anyway? I glance at the wall clock and groan out loud. It’s noontime!

I reach out for my phone on the side table.

What…? The inbox has thirty-five messages. I have fifteen missed calls. They mostly came from Holly and Bel, and some of my friends, as well. What could be the urgency? Something has happened.

I open Holly’s message. It came with pictures.

Of a couple kissing.

I gasp, my eyes going wide in shock when comprehension hits.

Oh my God!

It’s me and Dave! Kissing! Like kissing on the lips and locked in an embrace!

It was taken from The Vineyard last night, at Bel’s wedding.

I have a feeling all the calls and messages in my inbox are about this.

I look at the other pictures sent to me by Holly. Screenshots from internet gossip blogs.

The words sexual abuse, seduce and rape jump at me.

They’re pertaining to Dave.

My heart sinks. Why are they saying these vile things about Dave? They know nothing! Gossip-mongers! Liars!

I call Dave’s number. His phone is busy.

Oh God, what is Dave thinking now? I’m sure he already knows about this and has been facing it alone all morning while I slept away. I feel so guilty. I hate the people who are doing this to us. We’ve done nothing to them. Dave has been a generous patron of so many charitable institutions and this is what he gets in return for his generosity? Unfounded judgments! Some people are animals. Savages!

I have to talk to him. We must do something to correct these wrong accusations against him.

Oh God, Dave!

Are these pictures viral already? I dread to check my social media pages.

I’m panicking now. Breathe. Keep calm.

I call Holly. I have to know the extent of the damage.

She picks up right away. “Girl!”

“I saw your messages.”

“Was that really you and… girl! I can’t even…! Anya, what the hell?!”

I ignore her questions. “Holly, who sent you the pictures?”

“I don’t know. I just received them from Bel and she said some anonymous account sent it to her and so on and so forth.”

“This is bad, Holly. Is it on Facebook already? On Twitter?”

“Unfortunately, it’s already viral everywhere. I’m so sorry, Anya.”

The door opens.

Dave enters my room.

“I gotta go. Call you later.” I drop the phone.

He closes the door behind him.

“Dave…”

His demeanor is grim, his eyes dark and turbulent. I can only guess what he’s feeling. I can sense the huge weight on his shoulders. I want to hug him and comfort him.

I scramble from the bed. I forgot I was naked.

“For Christ’s sake!” He walks over, picks up the comforter and practically shoves it to my chest. I grab it to cover my body, suddenly embarrassed that he doesn’t seem to like the sight of me naked. His behavior last night is the polar opposite. He practically ripped my clothes off and touched every part of me all night long.

I’m taken aback by the harshness in his voice. I know he must be really upset but I’m with him, not against him. I step toward him. I just want to hold him. “Dave…“

“Get ready. We’re leaving in an hour,” he cuts me.

“What? Where are we going?”

“Just do it, Anya. I don’t want any arguments, understand? Not today,” he tells me with such seriously deadly eyes I dare not say anything more.

He leaves my room as quickly as he came in.

I look blankly at the closed door.

I’m hurt by his brusque dismissal. He’s angry, for sure. I have an idea what this scandal would do to him. To his reputation. But do we have a choice? We have to face the music sooner or later. Bravely. Together.

This is the consequence of loving him and giving in to that love. I dreaded for this to happen, but I’m willing to walk on fire for Dave.

W e’re aboard his business jet going to God knows where and Dave hasn’t talked to me. He’s sitting at the back of the plane near the cabin with six men— his vice presidents, lawyers and accountants. I’m cowering in my seat every time I hear him raise his voice. Things must be really bad.

The jet is his boardroom right now, and I dare not intrude. I stay as far from them as possible.

Oh God, what has happened? Is this the result of the scandal? Has it gravely affected Dave’s business?

I could make out some of the words he was saying to whoever he was talking to on the phone and there were several people. Now he’s in a video-conference on his laptop, barking orders at his executives.

I covertly watch him from where I’m sitting at the front part of the plane. His hair is a mess now as he’s been repeatedly combing it with his fingers, but he still looks gorgeous. He’s discarded his suit jacket and is now just wearing his vest and inner shirt. He looks formidable as he presides over the mini-conference, which I can tell is not small in scope, but global.

After listening carefully, I’ve surmised that DNK stocks are falling. Buying, selling , hedging— those are the technical terms that are frequently mentioned. Those are stock market jargon.

DNK is losing investors. Millions of dollars are going down the drain as the hours pass, and I have a feeling this is because of the scandal. How in hell could a series of photographs — no matter how scandalous they are— affect the stock market? I can’t wrap my head around it. But it’s happening.

I feel so bad. So guilty. I know I’m a huge part of what’s happening. I knew people would be shocked about us, but I didn’t know it would affect DNK.

I want to help him, but I know nothing of his business. How can I possibly comfort him at these times? I feel so helpless. My limitations, shortcomings and inexperience have never been more apparent than this moment.

So, I let him be. I don’t dare disturb him as he troubleshoots his company. Even if I’m feeling rejected by him and I very much want to talk to him, I take the sidelines. My feelings are secondary to his company right now. Dave is at work. He’s a CEO right now, not my lover, or boyfriend, or whatever.

I wince. There seems to be no appropriate word to describe his role in my life now. He’s been my father-figure for so long and now we’re lovers. The change in our relationship was so drastic and I feel lost, confused of my new role in his life.

How do I act now? How can I transition from being his ward to his what? Girlfriend? How is a girlfriend of a man like David Knight supposed to behave? I’ve only known him as my protector, the man who’s been taking care of me, my guardian. I don’t know him outside of that, how he is at work, how he runs his company, how he deals with his people.

I groan inwardly. I didn’t think about this before. I was hell-bent on forcing the transition and now that it happened, l’m scared of the expectations, from David and from his people, and society in general.

I realize it now, I know so little about life and responsibilities, and how to be in a mature relationship. But I love him and I’m willing to learn. To adapt. Fast.

I close my eyes and try to comfort myself. I don’t know where we’re going, but I’m glad we’re together.

As long as we’re together, I’m okay.

Everything will be all right.

I wake up with a start .

Dave is bending over me.

“Anya,” he calls my name softly.

I smile, so happy to see him near.

My hand moves to touch his face. “Dave…”

He straightens up to his full height, evading my touch. “We’ll be landing in a few minutes.”

His tone is still serious and impersonal. I drop my hand, disappointed. “Where?”

“New York City.”

“New York? Why are we here?”

“To get married.”

I stare at him blankly. Did I hear him right?

“Get ready for touchdown. My PR Team will meet us at the airport and brief us before the wedding.”

Wedding? PR Team? What is going on?

Get married? Wedding?!

I scramble to sit straighter. “What do you mean wedding?”

“We’re getting married today,” he said matter of factly with nary an expression on his face.

But…what is the PR Team gotta do with it?

“I’ve asked my good friend, the mayor of New York City to officiate our wedding at the City Hall. This will be covered by the New York press.”

I feel like he’s talking in riddles. “I…don’t…I don’t get it. Dave…” my voice trails of. I’m so confused.

“We have to douse the fire of the scandal.”

“By getting married?”

“Yes. Don’t you want to?”

This conversation has gone surreal. I can’t believe this is happening. We’re talking about marriage here and his face is nothing but happy about it.

“We don’t have to do that, Dave. We can’t let people dictate us what to do. Let them talk. It will blow over. I know it will.”

“Anya, I don’t want any arguments about this,” he says impatiently and I just hate it when he walks all over me like this, dismissing my right to choose and decide for myself.

I meet his stare and stand my ground. “This is my life, too. I have a say in this matter.”

He looks behind him at his people and then meets my eyes, his gaze utterly serious.

“Eli Templeton has withdrawn from our deal because of the scandal. DNK stocks are crashing because of this. Getting married might pacify stockholders and hopefully reverse the trend within twenty-four hours. We have to do it ASAP or DNK is fucked.”

He stated the facts so clinically that I now feel dirty for being part of this scandal. This scandal that was born out of our love for each other. Or so I thought. Come to think of it. He hasn’t told me once after our first lovemaking that he loves me. Maybe I was just reading too much into his actions.

“Anya, are you listening?”

Now I get it. The gist of it, at least. This wedding is a business move.

I feel so incensed, but I know it must be done. If this is the only way I can help repair the damage, I’m down with it. But God, this is so humiliating!

The captain announces our impending arrival in New York.

Dave takes his seat beside me and fastens his seatbelt. He reaches to fasten mine.

Perfunctory. Indifferent.

He rests his back on the plush seat and closes his eyes, sighing deeply.

He’s just a foot away from me but he’s so far away. I can’t even touch him. His demeanor is cold. Closed. Even combative.

I can understand what he’s going through but I don’t understand why he’s keeping me out. Does he regret what happened to us? Does he still want me? Or am I just a means to an end now?

We’re getting married.

He didn’t even ask me. No ring. No declaration of love. No nothing.

I thought I was strong, that I could brave the consequences of loving him. A man like him. I can take anything as long as Dave is with me for real. But this marriage that is about to happen, I know we’re not together for real.

This is purely business.