Page 101 of Hate To Be Mine

“A little actually.”

“Good. Now listen. Rico was fired. Security is gathering up his stuff right now and shipping him out on the next available flight.”

“What about the Miratoan authorities?” I asked. “Did I piss off the foreign minister? Are we shut down?”

“Briggs smoothed it all over.” She shrugged. “I don’t know what he did, but he made it happen.”

“Fucking attorneys, man.”

“Hey, that fucking attorney just saved your ass.”

“Hey! You can’t talk like that. Not in front of the little one.”

She smiled and waved a hand dismissively. “It doesn’t have ears yet.”

Despite everything, I almost smiled, too. “Yeah.”

She pulled out her phone. “Not to add more piss in your porridge, but you need to see this.”

“Can I say no?” I asked with a groan. “Who else have I pissed off?”

She showed me a photo. My stomach dropped. It was one of the Venus test shots. Bernadette standing in the water, hair down, the light perfect, looking like a goddess.

Damn. She was breathtaking. Ethereal.

Mine.

It was one of the test shots that wasn’t supposed to be released. Bernadette was looking at me in the image. I had just been telling her to relax her posture. That gaze was meant for me and me alone.

“Rico leaked it,” I said immediately. “That bastard.”

“Probably,” Elizabeth agreed. “But it’s a double-edged sword. People are in love with her. The photo is everywhere. ‘Blackwell’s Venus’ is trending. It’s amazing for the campaign and the dresses. But we aren’t controlling it. She’s Insta-famous all on her own.”

“Bernadette is going to be furious.” I felt sick. “Does she know?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “Probably. I mean, she’s not famous, but it’s getting serious traction. Her face is all over fashion blogs.”

I grabbed more chips, stress-eating on autopilot. “She’s never going to speak to me again.”

“Sebastian, she’ll know you didn’t do it. Trust me, she’s going to know it was that piece of shit.”

“Pregnancy makes you mean.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “You didn’t leak the photo.”

“Doesn’t matter. Bernadette was only in that water because I asked her to be. This is on me.”

I was shoving another handful of chips in my mouth when Bernadette came whipping around the corner of the bungalow. Now my Venus was looking more like the goddess of retribution. Vengeance.

“Bernadette, you came back to me,” I said.

She glared at me. “I’m here about the photo.”

“Oh, right. I figured.” My shoulders slumped.

“Everyone, including my father, has seen that picture of me.”

“I’m sorry.”