CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Tabby
“What’s going on?” I asked tentatively. I couldn’t see his face, but Owen’s back was so tense that the muscles were bulging.
He turned around slowly, and when he met my eyes, I felt a sickening swoop of dread in my gut. Something was very, very wrong. He looked more somber than he had the night his past fling made her sideways comment.
“There’s an article out,” he said through tight lips, “about The Club.”
“What kind of an article?” I knew any publicity about The Club was a bad thing, given how guarded they were about their goings-on, but I wasn’t sure what else to ask. The only thing I could hope was the article was highlighting the generous donations made by the members to all those charities.
“A tell-all,” he told me.
I waited for more information, but, really, what more information did I need? A tell-all was a tell-all. The secrets had been unturned. That was enough.
“There are names listed. It’s ‘Hooking for Homeless’ or something like that. They’re saying we’re a prostitution ring hiding behind charity donations.”
My laptop suddenly felt too heavy on my legs. I shoved it off onto the empty couch cushion next to me, not caring that it tipped sideways, and squeezed my shaking hands between my thighs. Horrible thoughts were running through my mind. If Owen’s name had been amongst those mentioned, he could potentially be facing some serious charges. A wealthy, high-profile investor being involved in a prostitution ring with other wealthy, high-profile people sounded like the makings of a perfect legal storm, and while I was sure there was a plentiful amount of money between all the members to hire the dream team of lawyers, I couldn’t help imagining what it might mean. There was a chance he would lose everything. He could even face prison time, if human trafficking was tacked on.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
He just continued looking at me rather than crossing the room and sitting beside me as I hoped he would. It was his mess, but I was selfishly in need of comfort in that moment. I couldn’t stand the thought of his world burning around him, and I couldn’t stomach the possibility of seeing him only from behind thick glass with a phone pressed to my ear.
“Apparently, some of the members are looking at you.”
I grew still. I wasn’t able to register what he’d just told me. They were looking at me? What did that mean? There was no way they could’ve thought I was the culprit…
“You’re the only one with a motive to do it, in their minds,” he went on.
“Motive?” The word was foreign on my tongue. “What the hell kind of motive could I have?”
“Money.”
Just like that, a simple term became dirty and repulsive. Heat rose up my neck in defensive anger, and I inadvertently snapped, “What the fuck?”
“You haven’t done an auction. You’re the only one with nothing to lose by outing The Club, and considering what the tabloids will pay for a story like this, you’ve got a big check to gain.” He finally moved toward me in a slow, loping gait. The hand not holding his phone was balled into a fist, and I could see the restraint he was employing to stop himself from punching the nearest piece of furniture. Dropping onto the end farthest from me on the couch, he clarified, “This is what Howie relayed to me. It’s not how I feel.”
“How do you feel?” I demanded at once.
He met my gaze, and though there was visible fury raging in his expression, he softened. “I know it wasn’t you.” Something else melted into his features — regret? “I need to tell you about something.”
Again, I felt the awful sensation of dread, but I gritted my teeth against it and prepared to brave another hurricane. “What?”
“Pippa came to my house before I flew up here,” he admitted. He wasn’t blinking, and his eyes didn’t move away from mine for even a second. It was as if he was willing me to read his mind so he wouldn’t have to say the words. “She was trying to get me to sleep with her.”
In my two-and-a-half decades, I’d never had a moment like this one. The walls were melting around me. I was numb, but the numbness was so intense it hurt. My muscles refused to move, not even to resituate, and I couldn’t tell if time had stopped altogether or if it had merely slowed to a snail’s pace.
“I didn’t.” He said it quietly but with firm resolve.
I stared at him. I was looking at him, but I wasn’t seeing him. His head might as well have been invisible, because I could somehow make out the grain of the photograph on the wall behind him.
“Tabby.” He scooted closer to me and rested his hand on my leg. “I didn’t sleep with her.”
“Then, why didn’t you tell me she came over until now?” I asked, finally managing to get my tongue to form syllables.
“Because nothing happened, so I didn’t think it mattered,” he replied matter-of-factly. “The only reason I’m bringing it up now is because I believe it was Pippa who gave the media the information about The Club.”
I shook my head. “How do you know that?”
“I don’t have any evidence, but I know it’s her.” He swallowed hard. “She didn’t take my rejection well.”
“You should go home,” I told him dully.
He withdrew slightly. “Why?”
“Because this is going to be a big problem for you, and you can’t fix it from here,” I said, squeezing his hand. “You need to go back to New Orleans and talk to people and get everything figured out so your reputation won’t be damaged.”
I wasn’t sure if I’d offended him or not. To be honest, I didn’t really care. I didn’t care about anything all of a sudden. My emotions were gone, buried in hiding to protect me from a heartache I didn’t know if I could handle. The very thought of that snotty bitch taking it upon herself to go to Owen’s house and seduce him was enough to make me uncomfortable, but I was finding it extremely hard to believe nothing happened that night. They had a past, after all, and Owen and I were doing the long-distance thing, plus we hadn’t officially committed to each other… I shook my head.
Why was I doing this to myself? Basically deciding that Owen was guilty?
But I’d assumed, when he told me at the airport in Louisiana that I was the only woman he wanted, we were monogamous. It didn’t take too much digging to know, even the thought that he’d violated that was the source of the hollow pain shooting through my chest.
Owen left that night. My bed had never felt so empty.