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“Oh, snap.” I wince. “Were you mad?”
“For a split-second. But quickly, I felt nothing but proud of you. I knew you’d been hired to ‘peel my onion.’ And that’s exactly what you were doing.”
Butterflies whoosh into my stomach. God, I love this man. “I hope you know I’d never write about Stephanie in my article about you, any more than I’d write about Troy or Isabel. I only got copies of those three lawsuits—that lease dispute, Stephanie, and Troy—because I was following breadcrumbs. It’s what I do. I can’t help it. But I’ve never once considered writing any sort of exposé on you.”
“I know that. You were smart to follow every breadcrumb, for both professional and personal reasons. The first night I met you, I told you I admire hustlers. And I meant it.”
I beam a huge smile at him. “If you’d snooped a little more into that box, you would have found Troy’s complaint at the bottom.”
Reed shrugs. “I saw Stephanie’s lawsuit on top and didn’t have the stomach to root around further. So, what’s the second thing you feel the need to ‘come clean’ about?”
“Yeah. Uh.” My cheeks blast with heat. “Howard Devlin. I’m investigating him. Hoping to write an article about him for Dig a Little Deeper.”
Reed looks confused. “What’s the nature of your ‘investigation’? You think Howard has committed financial crimes of some sort?”
I shake my head. “No. I’m gunning for Howard Devlin because I’m ninety-nine percent sure he’s a serial sexual predator, and that it’s the worst kept secret in Hollywood.”
Reed looks deeply shocked, and I know, in my bones, he has no idea about Howard’s reputation among the women who’ve interacted with him.
I tell him everything I know thus far, told to me by CeeCee, Hannah, and Francesca, fully admitting all my information is based on hearsay. All of it adding up to the same conclusion: Howard Devlin almost certainly regularly harasses and/or assaults women. Sometimes, as part of a “casting couch” scenario. Other times, when he’s not getting what he wants through coercion and manipulation and dangling carrots, he resorts to flat-out roofie-ing his victims.
“CeeCee gave me the green light to pursue my investigation, full steam ahead, this morning. I called her before boarding my flight and told her about my conversations with Francesca and Hannah. So, I’m a full-fledged investigative reporter now, chasing a story. But I want you to know, I’m not doing it to get back at Isabel, or to hurt or humiliate her in any way. She’s irrelevant to my reasons for pursuing this article. But I admit she’ll probably feel humiliated, and most likely want to break her engagement, if I’m successful. But I’m not going to hold back on writing this, simply because Isabel happens to be Howard’s fiancée and your beloved ex-girlfriend.”
“As well you shouldn’t. And, to be clear, I didn’t love her, Georgie. I never fell in love with her. Now that I love you, I know that for sure.”
I touch his cheek. “Do you think Isabel knows about any of those rumors?”
Reed screws up his face. “I can’t imagine she does. We’ve had several conversations about Howard over the years. I used to be annoyed about how obsessed he was with her, and told her so, and she never once said a word about any of this kind of stuff.”
“Well, if that’s the case, then she’s going to get blindsided. People are going to wonder how much she knew, and if she looked the other way, simply because Howard was helping her career. That narrative won’t be a good look for ‘America’s Sweetheart.’”
Reed scrubs the stubble on his chin. “Shit. Maybe I should warn Isabel about him. Or at least, that a potential shit storm is coming her way. I don’t know when she’s planning to marry him, but she can’t go through with it.”
“No, Reed. Please. I’m trusting you by telling you about this article. CeeCee told me not to tell anyone. And she specifically told me not to let Isabel find out about it, because she’s worried Isabel might run to Howard and warn him. And then who knows what Howard might do? What hush money payments he might make to the witnesses I’m going to try to interview?”
Reed looks physically nauseated. And my stomach twists in response.
“If you’re thinking of asking me not to write this article, then don’t. Just like you won’t compromise your business judgment for anyone, not even someone you love, I won’t compromise my journalistic integrity. This is going to be a huge story. I can feel it. So, please, don’t ask me to choose between my love and loyalty to you, and your loyalty to Isabel, versus my convictions and ambition and moral code.”
Reed’s face softens. He smiles and takes my hand. “So feisty. I love it.” He sighs. “Sweetheart, I wasn’t thinking, even for a second, of asking you not to write this article. If Howard has done any of this stuff, then I want him taken down, every bit as much as you do.”
