Rage like I’d never experienced fired through my veins. I strode through the newsroom and planted my feet in front of Alec’s coffee cup covered desk.
“What the fuck did you do? You had no right to go snoop around my computer and search my files.”
He leaned back in his chair and clasped his fingers behind his head. A smug, unapologetic smile stretched his pale lips.
“It’s not your computer, sweetheart. It belongs to The Reporter. And anything, including on your computer, including anything on the Cloud that can be accessed by that computer, belongs to The Reporter, too. Nice video.”
I closed my eyes and gripped the back of a chair to stop myself keeling over.
“Shame the video was so grainy,” he continued, “but I heard enough to know you like being spanked. If you ever give up journalism, which I recommend, there’s a career in porn for you.”
I lunged over his desk and punched his booze-thickened nose.
He jumped up and glowered, his fingers curling into fists. “Do you want me to hit you? Is that what you want? Huh? Little sluts like you welcome pain, don’t you?”
Showing the bravado I didn’t feel, I stood tall and glared at him. “If you touch me, I’ll have you arrested for assault.”
“Back at ya, kid,” he said and pointed to his nose.
“Who’s your source?” I demanded. “You didn’t get half of that stuff from my computer or my interview.”
He sneered. “What is this— amateur hour? You think I’m going to reveal my sources?” You’re not a journalist. Deal with it.”
“I’m a better journalist than you’ll ever be. What you did was underhanded and cruel. You have no heart, and you have no shame.” My voice cracked, and I took a second to compose myself. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“Awww, did you and Mr. Money Bags have a lover’s tiff? Isn’t this what you wanted? A front-page story?”
“Not like this. Pull it and print a retraction.”
He shrugged. “Even if I did pull it, it’s already out there. If you want to play in the big leagues, it’s time to put on your big girl pants. But from what I’ve seen, you don’t like wearing pants. If I’d known you were that kind of girl—”
“I’m going to talk to Henry about this right now.”
“Good luck with that; he’s somewhere over the Atlantic on his way to Europe for the holidays. I’m acting editor till he gets back.”
“What you’ve posted is trash, but that’s all hacks are good for. Why don’t you go work for The National Enquirer or TMZ?”
“Maybe next time your boyfriend will take my phone calls.”
“Is all this because you didn’t get to interview him? Seriously?”
“The pen is mightier than the sword.”
“Fuck you. I quit.”
Without stopping to clean out my desk, I marched out of the office. I didn’t even care that everyone stared as I passed.
Outside a blizzard blew, muffling my body-wrenching sobs. Why was this happening? Wyatt thought the story was my doing. He’d blocked my number, and my emails kept bouncing back.
I felt violated and exposed. I wanted to disappear. I wanted the world to swallow me up and erase my existence. There was nothing I could do to make him understand I had nothing to do with the story. I didn’t betray him. I wouldn’t. I’d promised.
He said we were to tell each other the truth, and I had.
Fuck the Cloud and fuck backing up my phone. I had done it once I’d gotten my phone back, in case I lost it again, but now I regretted doing it.
I jumped in a cab and called Jessica, but my words came out as gulping nonsensical sobs.
“Breathe, Paige. What happened? Talk to me.”
“My life is over.”
I explained what Alec had done, and Jessica offered to jump on a plane and come home. But I said not to because there was no point in ruining both of our Christmases. After I’d cried myself out, I told her I’d see her in the New Year, and I would tell her everything that had happened in the past four days. Four days that had stunned me. More had happened to me in the past ninety-six hours than had happened to me in the past twenty-two years.
Exhaustion weighed me down, and when I got into my apartment, I climbed into bed fully clothed. I didn’t want to face life right now. I would think I was being over dramatic, but this was by far the worst thing that had ever happened to me. Worse, I couldn’t believe I had contemplated doing it to other people, just to catch my own big break.
I had decided against it, but that didn’t matter. Perhaps my karma was to have it happen to me, just because I’d thought about doing it.
I hugged the pillow. I wondered if everything would ever be okay, ever again. Wyatt’s musky cologne clung to the fabric, and I began to sob all over again.