Ben stretched an arm out across the bed to pull Aria close to him. An insatiable need drove him when it came to her, and he was quite certain now that it would never be quenched. He needed her, wanted her, had to have her as often as he possibly could.

Instead of finding her warm, slumbering body next to him, his hand fell against the cold sheets. Blinking his eyes open, he yawned and looked around the room.

Sitting up, he realized he was alone. Strange.

Ben turned and placed his feet on the floor, shivering slightly at the cool wood beneath his feet as he located his clothes. He tugged on a pair of pants, opting for no shirt yet, and headed out to the living room to find Aria.

But a quick walk around the small apartment revealed she wasn't there.

A scowl tugged at his brow, unease settling in his gut. Maybe she was on a breakfast run? Patting his pockets, he couldn't find his cell phone. The clock on the wall in her kitchen revealed it was almost noon.

Crap. He hadn't meant to sleep in that late.

Returning to the bedroom, he found his phone on her nightstand. His initial ease turned to full-blown frustration when he realized his phone was off. Did I forget to charge it overnight? He felt around the back of the nightstand for the phone charger plugged into the wall, but there was nothing there. Peering behind it, he saw the charger on the ground.

Why would I pull it out of the wall? The answer was that he wouldn’t. Frustration slowly dissipated into fear, an unfamiliar feeling swarming his gut as he plugged his phone in and sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for it to turn back on.

The screen lit up several excruciatingly long minutes later. “Finally,” he muttered, gritting his teeth. He noted a few missed calls and texts, but bypassed them when he saw none of them were from Aria. Instead, he dialed her number.

The phone rang three times, then went to voicemail. "You've reached Aria Rose. Please leave a message after the—"

Ben hung up before it clicked to voicemail. Opening his texts, he sent her a quick message asking where she was. He waited a minute to see if she read it, but the text wouldn't even confirm it had been delivered.

Feeling more and more anxious, Ben began flipping through his other missed messages. He was a little surprised he had so many missed messages for a Sunday morning, but he and Aria had spent most of the day in bed yesterday ignoring the outside world, so it wasn’t too unusual.

Until he realized why.

Ben’s body went stiff, every muscle locking into place as he clutched the phone tighter in his hand. His other fist knotted in the bed sheet next time, nearly tearing the fabric in two. “WHAT THE FUCK?”

Rage misted his vision red for several seconds before he could gather enough control to read through everything in front of him. This could not be happening.

Nude photos of Aria had gone viral overnight.

Not just nude, actually. These were candid shots of her having sex with...I’ll kill him! That fucking bastard! The internet was abuzz trying to figure out who the mystery man was, but Ben recognized the long, curly, black hair immediately. He'd worked with him for weeks.

Russell.

A fury stronger than he'd ever felt before slammed through Ben's body, and he jumped up from the bed, gathering the rest of his clothes and roughly pulling them on. He slammed the bedroom door into the wall with a loud bang as he stormed into the living room and grabbed his keys, heading for the front door.

Aria had tried to convince him her relationship with Russell was in the past—hell, she even said he'd helped her. Ben had given her the benefit of the doubt, but he had never liked Russell. And now? He fucking hated him.

The fact that that bastard could do this to Aria—let alone any woman—made Ben sick.

Wait until I get my hands on him. Anger clouded Ben’s vision as he charged down the stairs and out the front door of Aria's apartment complex.

"Is that Ben Lawson?" someone called out the moment he stepped onto the sidewalk. "Ben Lawson? Head of Shepherd Films?"

Flashes started going off in his face, and Ben stepped back, shocked. What the hell?

"MR. LAWSON, WHAT ARE YOU DOING COMING OUT OF ARIA ROSE'S HOME? ARE YOU SLEEPING WITH HER, TOO?"

Fuck! Ben steeled himself and walked briskly the rest of the way to his car, dodging the few photographers and paparazzi who seemed to have set up camp outside her building.

“Just business,” he said loudly, hoping they’d buy it. Their expressions were dubious.

Climbing into his car, he quickly sped off and away from the cameras, hoping he hadn’t made everything worse. Guilt swallowed him whole as he pointed his car toward the highway. He should have considered that photographers would be staking out her apartment now, but he'd been so livid, it hadn't even crossed his mind.

Now he might have romantically linked her to the executive in charge of her movie, not to mention she was still publicly involved in that fake relationship with Travis. And now these photos with Russell.

The fall out is going to be astronomical. Especially if they didn’t buy his business story and painted her as someone who sleeps her way into roles—which of course was the furthest thing from the truth. Aria had earned everything she had because of her talent and hard work.

Ben cringed, feeling sick at the thought of what Aria must be experiencing right now. He needed to talk to her.

Grabbing his phone, he dialed her again. Still no answer. This time, he stayed on the line until the voicemail clicked on. "Aria, I just heard the news. I am so, so sorry. Please call me. I can fix this. I'll freaking kill him! Call me, Aria."

He hung up and quickly dialed Arthur next.

"Bloody hell, Ben. We're in deep today," Arthur said the moment the line clicked through.

"Tell me about it." Ben groaned. "I need Russell Rain's address. Now. Text it to me."

"Why? Oh, wanker. He's the bloke in the photos with her?"

"Just text me the address, Arthur. And talk to whoever you need to talk to about getting those photos off the internet. We'll pay any price."

"On it, boss." The line disconnected, and a second later, a beeping sound told him Arthur had sent the address.

Coordinating it into his car's GPS, Ben broke every speed limit on his way. It was no secret Russell had a sleazy side, but this was beyond anything Ben could have imagined. It doesn’t make any goddamn sense!

Scarlet's Letters was Russell's film as much as it was the studio’s, and this would tank everything he'd worked so hard for as well. This was his livelihood he was messing with—for what? A vendetta? A sick joke? A sadistic ploy?

Fucking idiot! Ben slammed his hand against the steering wheel.

He needed Shepherd Films turned around in the first year, and this film was supposed to be the key. He couldn't believe his own director had destroyed that—and possibly Ben's entire career along with it.

As furious as he was at Russell, he was also furious at himself. He'd promised to protect Aria, and instead, he'd let someone completely take advantage of her in the worst possible way. He'd slept half the day away while she was out there alone trying to remedy her ravaged reputation.

He'd failed to protect her. After all his promises.

This was his fault.