Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Open the goddamned door!”
Darcy bolted up in bed, nearly toppling out the side. That sounded like Micah. Why did he sound so angry?
Heart lodged in her throat, she rushed out to the living room in her nightshirt and opened the door, patting her hair down. “Micah, what’s—”
“Oh, you are good. Far better than I imagined. Better than me, even, and that’s saying something.” Ice-cold fury stared back at her as he pushed forward, driving her back a step with each one he took toward her. His blond hair hung down around his face as it had during their first day together, making him look dangerous and wild.
Her voice shook when she said, “Micah, you’re scaring me.”
“Don’t play the innocent with me. You once told me you open your mouth and unedited truth falls out, but I think it’s the opposite. No, you open your mouth and poison falls out. How true, that you’re not like the other reporters. You’re so much worse. You actually made me think I was falling in love with you! Was any of it real? Was fucking me part of the grand plan, or was that improvisation when I proved too tight-lipped?”
Darcy recoiled as if he’d slapped her, and anger bubbled up from her gut, forcing its way past the lump in her throat. “It was all real, every second, but I see what this is. Is this how it ends, then? It took you one whole day to realize I’m damaged goods, and you don’t have the balls to break it off, so instead, you insult me until I tell you to go to hell? God, you are such an asshole, and I’m an idiot. Just get out and go away. I knew you you’d do this; I knew it.”
His scowl faltered for only a second before he tossed a rolled-up newspaper at her, which landed at her feet. The headline caught her eye, and her anger iced over in an instant. She snatched up the paper and scanned through the story. Her story, only…it wasn’t. But it was under her byline.
Tears spilled over her lashes as she lifted her gaze from the printed lies to find Micah at the door. “I swear I didn’t write this. Oh, God, how…how could this have happened?”
“Don’t waste my time.” He overenunciated each word, giving it the edge of a blade. “I guess first instincts are always right, and mine said you were going to fuck me over the first chance you got. Can’t believe it took you this long to hit the papers. I wouldn’t have been surprised if your people came to my island in boats in the middle of the night to plant recording equipment. Who knows, maybe you did and everything will end up in the headlines.” He shook his head and turned toward the door. “You have a bright future as the queen of the media whores ahead of you. Enjoy the view from the top shelf.”
When he left her apartment and rushed down the stairs, she raced out the door after him, stopping at the top of the landing. “Wait. Please don’t go. Let me explain, please!”
I love you. I…I love you.
The clang of the door below resonated up the stairs. He was gone.
Why wouldn’t the words come out? Not that he’d believe her now, anyway. He’d never believe her again. Never look at her again. Or make love to her, kiss her, hold her when the storms of life became too much ever again. Sobs choked her, and she wailed into her hands. Nothing had ever hurt this much. Not even almost dying, or thinking she’d never walk again.
The guy who lived in the other third-floor apartment pounded on his door and told her to shut up. Her body suddenly weighed a thousand pounds. It took a giant effort to get herself back into her apartment. Once inside, she shut the door and pressed her back against it, sliding down to the floor.
Numbness settled into her body.
She’d been such a coward. If she’d just stayed with him at the cottage, had stopped denying what her own heart had been shouting, they’d be together right now. There were other ways to make a difference in the world.
How had it gone so wrong? What she’d read in the paper seemed to be the story she’d written and given to Sol at first glance. Except for the disconnected bits of truth taken out of context and woven into a damning article.
Oh, God. Sol had been near her bag in his office on Saturday. He wasn’t that big of a scheming bastard, was he? She raced over to her luggage, which was still sitting in the living room, emptying her work bag onto the floor. The voice recorder and notebook were both missing.
The enormity of what Sol had done turned her flesh to ice. Because the story appeared under her byline, and given the reputation for truth and justice she’d so painstakingly built with her blog readership, some would take the story as hard fact, and news would travel like wildfire. The public would crucify Micah for supposedly killing a child. The headline even used the word he called himself: monster.
No wonder he’d been so livid. From the moment they met, he’d expected her to screw him over. It appeared she’d secretly agreed with all of his incorrect views of himself and plastered it all over the paper as truth. He thought she saw him as a monster when all she saw was a man she wanted to love until time had finished ticking off all the seconds of her life. No wonder he wouldn’t listen to anything she said. There were no apologies to make up for that betrayal.
The foundation would be ruined, and so would the man who’d only begun to come out of his dark shell. If only she’d destroyed that notebook and erased her recorder, like she should have, none of this would have happened. She’d broken his heart. The same heart that had touched to her so easily, so naturally. She’d lost everything she’d ever wanted.
And now it was too late.
Too late.
After convincing herself he’d ruin what they had, it hadn’t occurred to her that she’d be the one to kill the first great relationship she’d ever known. He hadn’t even given her a chance to explain. No, it wasn’t his fault.
Two seconds was all it had taken for Sol to get what he wanted. At the heart of her, she’d known what kind of a slithering snake he was, and she’d given him the opportunity to get his hands on Micah’s darkest secrets.
Grinding her teeth, Darcy threw on some clothes, snatched up her keys, and headed downstairs. She had to fix this. Somehow, some way, she’d undo this terrible mistake and free Micah from the chains of his nightmares, and from the public, who’d be out for his head, even if he’d never speak to her again.
Darcy blew through the front doors of the Toronto Today Media Group so fast it cracked against the wall. Too bad it hadn’t smashed. Gran’s voice in the back of her head urged her not to confront her boss while so red-hot pissed, but no, not this time. If Darcy punched him in the face, it would be his own damn fault.
The receptionist stood as Darcy rushed past her, raising a hand to shut her up. It seemed to take eons before the elevator took her to the top shelf Micah was convinced she’d sold him out for. The thought choked her out again. She struggled to breathe as the elevator doors finally opened to the twelfth floor.
How could she have ever thought this was the only way to make a difference? Why had it taken such a trauma to make her wake up and see that she’d never given up on love, even though she’d convinced herself she had?
Until she’d found it on an island with Micah.
She’d found it in a man who wanted her to look into him, to find something worth saving. In finding him, she’d also found herself.
If it was her last act as a person of the media, Darcy would make the world see that man, that warrior who’d been born. The one she’d never get to touch again.
Once her emotions settled, she marched down the hallway, her frustration blowing out of control at the sounds of festivities going on in the meeting room across from Sol’s office.
Wall-to-wall people filled the large room made entirely of windows in the center of the twelfth floor. They were laughing and clinking glasses.
Sol saw her first, throwing up his hands in victory. “There’s the woman of the hour.”
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Anger resonated in Darcy’s voice.
Conversation stopped, and all eyes were suddenly on her, their bodies frozen mid-gesture.
“What I’ve done?” Sol said, that cruel, knowing smile arching his thin lips. “What you’ve done is take this paper from small potatoes to the big times with one story. We sold more than a hundred-thousand online subscriptions this morning alone, and we sold out the paper copies everywhere a mere hour after most of the stores opened this morning. You are the buzz of this city. Flip on every news station, and they’re talking about you and that freak, Laine.”
“Never call him that again. There are hundreds of people out there right now, suffering, waiting for the foundation to bring them out of hell. And now you have everyone believing Micah Laine is a child murderer. Jesus, how could you do this? You took a bunch of my ramblings out of context and made this concoction of lies that are literally going to cost people their lives. Do you have no conscience?”
“What’s she talking about?” One of the copy editors pointed her accusing frown at Sol.
Darcy met his wary gaze solidly with a challenging one of her own. “Tell them what you’ve done, or I will. They have a right to know just how much of a snake you are, if they don’t already.”
Grabbing her by the arm, he dragged her across the hall into his office and closed the door. “Shut your mouth, or I’ll take your name off the office down the hall. I own you now, and you’ll write what I tell you to write, or everyone will know just how far you’ll go to get a story, even whoring yourself out like a pro. Everything you’ve always wanted will disappear with a snap of my fingers.”
Her bitter laughter drove the short man back a step. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with. I say we both tell our side of the story and see who the people believe. And when you take on someone like me, you’d better make sure you haven’t already taken away what I want before issuing a challenge like that. May the better idiot survive this shit storm. See you in the news.”
On her way by the new office that was to be hers, she ripped her new nameplate off the door and whipped it back at him. As she headed for the elevator, ignoring all of the questioning faces staring at her from office doorways, and Sol who continued to yell threats at her back, Darcy’s plan formed in her mind.
To make everyone see the truth, she’d throw herself on the proverbial blade and hope it would be enough.
If only there was a way to turn back time. After all the effort she put into helping others see what was right in front of them, she’d blinded herself to the wonder she’d had right in front of her.
And now he was gone.