Dirty Headlines

“I thought if you knew the only thing to keep you with me other than Newsflash Corp was gone, you’d…” Lily wiped her tears quickly, before they ruined her mascara. “She was your favorite. I didn’t know how you’d react, and I didn’t want to know, either.”

“Is. She’s still alive.”

“Not for long, baby. I’m sorry, but there’s no way she’ll make it to our wedding.”

The cab came to a stop in front of her parents’ Park Avenue building. I shoved my hand into my pocket, producing my wallet and plucking out a chunk of notes. I slapped the cash in the driver’s hand and told him to wait under the building. Lily stared at me, a slow grin spreading on her face.

“If I’d known that’s what it takes to get you into my place…”

“Shut up, Lily. I need to say goodbye to Madelyn. This is not about you.”

Half an hour later, I was back in the cab, my mood hitting an all-time low. Madelyn wasn’t awake. Lily’s parents—while happy to see me—were also wondering where the fuck I’d been for the past few months. Things were tense and awkward. They no longer felt like the family I never had, and why would they? I hadn’t bothered to pick up their calls in months.

By marrying Lily, sticking it to my father, and finalizing the merger, I was not only ruining my own life, I was ruining theirs, too. And that was something I’d yet to consider.

I gave the driver a Brooklyn address I had no business visiting, and asked him to roll the windows down so I could breathe in unrecycled air.

A little while later we stopped in front of Judith’s building. Her living room window was wide open, like I’d known it would be. Jude’s entire personality was inviting. Her generosity and kindness said come in, and I wanted to stomp into her territory and conquer every inch of her life. I sat in the cab and stared into her window, realizing I was acting like a creep, and not giving half a shit. The cheap yellow lightbulb of her foyer flickered, and because she was living on the ground floor, I could see that there was a small table set for dinner, with a salad bowl, pasta, and garlic bread. Basic, but I knew it would taste better than the bluefin tuna sushi I was going to have for dinner.

“Sir?” The driver cleared his throat.

I slapped some more money into his hand without taking note of how much it was.

“A few more minutes.”

I’m way past creeper and treading into restraining-order territory.

“Of course.”

You should probably pick up the phone and fucking report it, man. I would. In a heartbeat.

Five minutes later, Robert walked into the dining room, easing slowly into his chair. He still looked fragile and older than his years, but he had a smile on his face. Less than a minute later, Judith appeared wearing a blue and white Yankees hoodie and tiny high-waist shorts. Her legs were tan, muscular, and glorious. She was laughing and mounding pasta onto her dad’s plate. He coughed and she stopped laughing, walked over to his seat, and rubbed his back.

He caught her hand in his, looked up. They shared a smile.

His lips moved. “I’m okay, JoJo. Really. I’m fine.”

She cracked two beers and poured them into tall glasses, her lips moving, smiling. She was singing.

I looked away, because I didn’t expect to feel the way I did—like I wanted her and envied her and pitied her.

Wanted her because she was tailor-made for me.

Envied her because she had a real family, or whatever was left of it.

And pitied her because I couldn’t quite let go, and I didn’t do love. Only hate and anger and revenge.

One thing was for sure, Judith Humphry and Lily Davis weren’t cut from the same cloth, and I wanted to wear only one of them.

One girl disarmed me, the other fucked me up, and over.

One girl was loyal, the other shallow and empty.

One claimed she was mine, but it was the other I wanted to own.



“We need to talk.” I stormed into Célian’s office when the clock hit nine am.

Brianna, who had been waiting in an invisible line by his door to see him, had clutched her iPad to her chest and stared at me with sheer alarm when she saw me advance toward his office and walk in without knocking. Célian was already behind his desk, sipping his one of three morning coffees, chewing his mint gum, and flipping through the daily newspapers, not sparing me a look. He wore his indifference like chipped armor, a white knight with a very dark soul.

“Disagree, but you’re already here, so you might as well spit it out.”

“First of all, did you know Brianna is waiting for you outside?” I threw a thumb behind my shoulder, cocking an eyebrow.

“I did, and she can knock.”

“She’s scared of you.”

“You’d be wise to be the same,” he whiplashed, still not looking up to meet my gaze. “Are you here to talk about Brianna, Miss Humphry?”

Damn him. He sounded like Harvey Specter on speed. Only crueler. And ten times handsomer. If Célian met chivalry in a dark alley, he would beat it to death, then find its sister, generosity, and kill her too.

“I came here to tell you I found out, and I’m pissed.”

“Explain, and save me the ambiguity.”

“Are you too precious for eye contact anymore? Is that now saved for the moments I’m writhing under you and you want to see me vulnerable?”