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“Why?” Masters asks. “Is she pregnant?”
God, I haven’t even thought of that. “She says not. We were at the airport coming home yesterday and she gets a phone call from her brother demanding she get her fucking arse back to Nottingham. So, we went there last night… together. The brother is a total cockhead. He and I end up fighting, and her father is completely gutless. He didn’t say a fucking thing. We leave, Charlotte and I get into a fight, and she won’t speak. She was crying the whole two-hour car ride home. Then she goes to bed alone. I nip down to the bar at her hotel to get some scotch, and Edward, her brother, calls me to tell me that if I hurt her he is going to kill me.”
They both wince.
“Then.” I widen my eyes.
“God, so many thens.” Masters smirks.
“Get this, her bodyguard asks me if I’ve ever fucked a guy.”
They both frown and then exchange looks and then look back to me.
“What do you mean?” Seb asks.
“He asked me if I fucked a guy!” I snap. “Why the fuck would he ask me that?”
“Have you ever fucked a guy?” Masters frowns.
“No.”
“Head?”
“Fuck, no! You know that.”
“Anything dick related?” Seb frowns.
“No! But I laid awake all night worrying that he’d heard something through the grapevine, and now the tabloids are going to make up even more fake news about me and splash it everywhere.”
Their faces both fall as they connect the dots.
“Once you’re reported as ever being with a guy, the whole fucking world believes you’re gay and acting straight.”
“And you think this story is going to come out, and then Edward will officially kill you?” Masters sighs.
“Or worse… I’ll lose Charlotte.” I put my head into my hands. “This whole thing is a disaster.”
“I don’t think it’s that,” Seb says. “I reckon he just wants you to fuck him.”
“What?” I frown. “He’s not gay, Sebastian.”
“How do you know?”
“He’s all buff and big. This is the guy that I thought liked Charlotte in the beginning. He’s not a bad bloke, actually. He’s definitely not gay.”
“Well, my guess is that he’s thinking about sucking your cock,” Seb mutters into his coffee.
“He’s fucking not. Eww.” I scrunch up my face in disgust at the mental visual. “Don’t even say that out loud.”
Our breakfasts arrive, and we begin to eat in silence.
“So, what are you going to do?” Masters asks.
My email pings on my phone, and I pick it up to read it. “First thing this morning, I’m going to cave in Alexander York’s skull.” I open my email.
“Oh, great.” Masters rolls his eyes. “That will fix everything, you have a great chance of keeping her from jail.”
* * *
