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Seeing it was Detective Kirtner, I quietly got to my feet and left the bedroom so I didn’t disturb her. As I closed the door behind me, I answered. “Moreitti,” I clipped out.
“Going to ask you a question, and I want you to be honest.” His tone was matter-of-fact and possibly even a little accusatory.
I tensed at his tone but mentally reminded myself that this guy was a cop and was trying to help keep Arella safe. “I’m listening.”
“Yesterday, did you and Miss Stevenson happen to do anything in her dressing room that might have been…intimate?”
“Why does that matter?” I gritted out.
“Because after the executives cleared out yesterday, I had a forensic team come in and sweep it just to be on the safe side. They found evidence that there might have been a hidden camera in the room. The camera itself was missing, but there was a piece of the device left behind.”
My blood ran cold, and I dropped onto the couch in the living room in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Wish I were. The remnants of the device suggested it was high-tech, very expensive, and not easy for the technologically challenged to install.” Kirtner exhaled heavily. “So, I’m going to ask you again. Is it possible that you and Miss Stevenson may have been intimate in her dressing room? Because if you were, that would explain the violent way the place was destroyed. Seeing her with someone else, on top of her show ending, which has effectively taken away seeing her as part of his regular routine, could have caused him not only to escalate yesterday, but could also mean that she is in even more danger now.”
“Not to mention there could now be a sex tape floating around out there,” I muttered to myself, but I heard his curse.
“I’ll take that as a yes, then. Hadn’t considered the potential for that.”
The thought of someone else watching me fuck Arella, their eyes on her as she was lost in the throes of passion as she came on my cock and then sucked me off, made me see red. And now that sick fuck could have already put it on porn sites and countless other places. The entire world could have been watching my woman being fucked right that moment.
“I have to go. I need to make sure she isn’t all over the damn internet right now.”
“I’d worry about yourself too, Mr. Moreitti.”
“Who the fuck cares about me?” I snarled, and I disconnected the call before I started yelling at the man.
I didn’t matter. It was Arella whom I couldn’t stand being hurt over what we did in the privacy of her dressing room going viral. Any more than I could handle the thought of the population fucking their hands to the sexy sight of Arella’s ripe ass and juicy pussy as she squirted all over my cock.
Calling Mia, I jumped to my feet and began to pace. When she picked up after the third ring, I didn’t even give her time to speak. “Who is the person your mom calls when she needs to pull something off the web about one of her clients? Is it Mieke?”
“Um, hello to you too, Mr. Grumpy.” I heard her yawn and realized I might have woken her up. It was only after ten, but she did have Emerson to deal with, and the little hellion was a handful, not to mention Mia was pregnant again. “What did you do that Mieke needs to have erased from the dreadful interweb?”
“Mia, just give me her number.” When all I heard was tense silence on her end, I muttered a quick, “Please.”
“Fine,” she huffed. “But I want answers tomorrow. I’ll text you her contact information, but she lives in Nashville. It’s going to be after midnight her time.”
“Noted,” I bit out. Not that I cared. I needed this dealt with now, and I knew if Emmie Armstrong had Mieke on her payroll, then she was the best of the best at what she did. “Thank you,” I told her and hung up just as the text came in.
When I made the call to Mieke, it rang twice before she answered. “Who is this?” she snapped in greeting. “And how the fuck did you get my number?”
“Jordan Moreitti,” I introduced myself. “And Mia Barrick gave me the number.”
“Mia did?” She grumbled something under her breath I didn’t catch, and I didn’t care enough to ask her to repeat. “Jordan… Yeah, okay. I remember you. Gabriella’s cousin or nephew or whatever. I guess that makes you part of my family, on the rocker side. What can I do for you?”
“How much to have you look for and take down anything…damaging to Arella Stevenson?”
She sighed. “I usually get these requests from Emmie.”
“I don’t want Emmie or anyone else to know about this,” I told her, trying and failing to keep my voice calm. It was hard, though, when I was pissed the fuck off. All I could think about were the sounds Arella made as she’d sucked my cock the day before and how billions of pervs could be listening to that same sound right that moment. “Especially not Drake or Lana Stevenson. Name your price. I’ll pay it.”
“Dude, just tell me what I’m looking for, and I’ll take care of it. Geesh, relax a little before you blow a vessel or something.”
“It’s…” I clenched my free hand into a fist. “There may be a sex tape of the two of us. Someone put a camera in her dressing room, and—”
“Say no more,” she muttered, anger lacing her own voice now. “Fucking sick pricks. I got you covered.” I heard the click-clacking of rapid typing and then her sharp inhale. “Okay, this isn’t great, but it’s not too bad either. Don’t freak out. I can get this down in no time.”
For the next hour, she stayed on the phone with me until the video was completely erased from the internet. It was already on more than one site, but she not only took it down, she also put up an alert so that if someone tried to upload it again, she would know immediately.
