A slim omega was sitting on a bed, dressed in an open white shirt and elaborate lingerie. His cock was hard between his toned legs. A muscular alpha was kneeling by the bed, naked, his arms hanging limply by his sides. The omega was resting his foot on the alpha’s face.
Another picture showed the alpha still on his knees with the omega standing above him. He was about to put a long black dildo into the alpha’s ass. A black flogger lay on the bed.
In the next photo, the big alpha was stretched out on the bed like a starfish, his arms bound to the headboard, a gag in his mouth. The base of the black dildo peeked from between his spread legs. The omega stood by the bed. His corset and lace shorts clung to his impeccable body, his nipples peeking out enticingly. His arm was in the air, the flogger about to land on the alpha’s rearing cock.
It was Paris and Boone, easily recognizable. There were more pictures, at least ten, but I didn’t need to see them. Now that I realized what I was looking at, I felt gross, invading their privacy like this.
I handed the stack of photos to Boone. “I’m sorry.”
Boone shuffled through them all. He went pale, and his mouth tightened, eyebrows drawn together in a scowl.
“They must have been taken at the apartment we rented two weeks ago,” I said.
Boone slipped the photos back into the envelope. “I need to talk to Mr. Olivier.”
Lothair walked over to us. “Can I have a look?”
I shook my head, and he frowned.
Boone stomped out of the room and into the other part of the suite, where Paris’s bedroom was.
“What’s going on?” Lothair asked quietly.
“It’s not just pictures of you and me.”
“No?”
“Boone and Paris are in a relationship.”
“I knew it!”
Lothair’s smile fell as he took in my expression.
“Their sex life is very unconventional.” I let the information sink in. “This could severely damage Paris’s career, and if the pictures are published together with the ones of you and me having sexin the same apartment, they could lead to all kinds of speculations. This could be the sex scandal of the decade.”
“For fuck’s sake. Why do people still care who fucks whom and how? We’re all adults! This is a free country!”
Paris appeared, wearing a satin robe and a towel around his head. Boone shuffled behind him, still pale as a ghost, carrying the envelope.
“They care a lot. Especially those whose sex life is disappointing.” With that, Paris poured himself a glass of bourbon.
When Boone spoke, he sounded hollow. “We missed the cameras during the apartment checkup, which means they must have been chosen and installed by an experiencedprofessional. The envelope was handed to you in public during a major event to show what they can do to you. The action required extensive resources and planning.”
“Do we know who’s behind this?” Paris asked.
He was surprisingly calm. It was Boone who looked on the verge of a breakdown. Paris seemed as businesslike as ever.
I didn’t hesitate with my answer. It was glaringly obvious. “Carlos Sorensen, Lothair’s now ex-manager.”
Lothair swore next to me. “I’ll fucking kill the weasel.”
My phone vibrated in my pocket. After a quick glance at the screen, I met Paris’s eyes. “You have our deepest apologies. You’ve been dragged into our mess. None of this is your fault.”
Paris scoffed. “It’s everyone’s and nobody’s fault, Terrance. In this industry, people eagerly eat their young if it gives them a leg up. If Lothair weren’t involved with me, nobody would target him. Are we sure it’s Carlos?”
I showed him my phone. “The message is from him. He wants to meet you and Lothair tomorrow at his office. Boone and I are not allowed into the building.”
Boone flashed me a glare. “Mr. Olivier is not going anywhere without me.”
