Chapter 35
Ashlyn
“What the hell is this?”he asks again, but I’m too busy blinking my eyes to make sure what I am looking at is real.
It’s a string of maybe twenty photos of just him. Pictures of him getting dressed and getting in and out of the shower. While they don’t fully show everything, they show a lot more than he’d want. Especially considering that he didn’t know they were being taken. The thing is, I didn’t know either.
“I don’t understand,” I say.
“I thought you told your boss no,” he snaps. “I thought you said you’d never go along with it.”
“I didn’t go along with it,” I say.
“Then where did these photos come from?” he asks, shoving up from the table and pacing the floor. “Because they were obviously taken by someone close to the house. Or inside the house…”
Suddenly, what he’s suggesting hits me like a brick. “Wait. You think I took these photos?” I ask.
“I mean, I don’t know who else it could have been,” he says, and my jaw unhinges.
“You’re kidding, right? You have paparazzi trying to breach the fences around your property left and right. You don’t think there is any chance these photos could have been taken by one of them?” I ask.
He snatches the phone and scrolls some more. Then he shoves it back in my direction, and I gasp.
“Something like that could only have been taken by someone inside the house,” he says, and I stare at the photo in horror. “And they were posted by Sigma, Ashlyn. What else am I supposed to believe?”
It’s me and him in bed. He’s on top of me and we are both naked. It’s obvious what we are in the middle of, but the angle of his body and the blankets hide everything private. Though not by much.
“Oh my god,” I say, with tears forming in my eyes.
“Look at that, Ashlyn. You’re a photographer. Look at the resolution. That was not taken from a window, no matter how good the camera was.”
He’s not wrong, but he is wrong about his accusation. “Zane, I did not take these photos. How could I have? I am in some of these too.”
“Hidden cameras are a thing,” he says, and I just stare at him in disbelief.
“You can’t be serious right now,” I tell him. “I would never.”
Zane takes a step closer. “Then who was it? If it wasn’t you, who was it?”
“I don’t know. Does anyone else have access to your house?”
“No,” he says flatly.
“No one? Not a maid or delivery people or a pool guy or–”
“Do you see a maid around here?” he snaps. “Or pool boys or–”
“Okay, okay,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. Then it clicks. “What about the girl I saw?”
“What girl?” he mutters.
“The other night. When I told you I saw someone outside,” I answer.
“The one you thought you saw on the balcony?” he asks.
“Not thought,” I correct him. “I did see someone. There was someone there. On the balcony and in Bentley’s window and–”
“Stop,” he cuts me off with a tone sharper than anything I’ve ever heard from him before. “No one was on the balcony. And even if they were, they still couldn’t have gotten photos like this.”
