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“They’re innocent photos,” I said. “And it’s theNational Star. No one takes theStarseriously.”
It was the same excuse I’d used earlier. Unfortunately, my mother wasn’t as easily swayed as Parker.
“Innocentwould be photos of you reading to children on World Book Day, not cavorting around New York with thatwoman,” my mother said coldly. “A bartender? Really, Kai? I set you up with someone like Clarissa and you choose a run-of-the-mill gold digger? She has purple hair, for heaven’s sake. Andtattoos.”
Anger chased behind my shame, incinerating it in one fiery burst. “Don’t talk about her like that,” I said, my voice lethally quiet.
My mother fell silent for a moment. “Don’t tell me you’vefallenfor her.” A hint of derision tainted her words.
Of course not.
The denial sat on the tip of my tongue, but no matter how hard I pushed, it wouldn’t budge.
I liked Isabella. I liked her more than anyone I could remember. But there was a vast ocean of difference betweenlikeandfallen. The former was a safe, clearly marked path. The latter was an abrupt, potentially fatal crash off the side of a cliff, and I wasn’t ready to take that leap.
I didn’t know how to categorize my feelings for Isabella. All I knew was the thought of never seeing her again felt like a serrated blade slicing through my chest.
“We can still salvage this. Like you said, it’s theStar.” My mother moved on from her original line of questioning. She didn’t press the Isabella issue, likely because she was afraid she’d get an answer she wouldn’t like. “Lean in on its unreliability. Reassure the board. And, for God’s sake, stop seeing that woman.”
My grip strangled my phone. “I’m not breaking up with her.”
The past few months had been a shitshow. Isabella was the only bright spot in my life right now. Remove her, and…
Fuck.
I loosened my tie, trying to ease the sudden pressure in my chest.
“Be serious.” My mother switched from English to Cantonese, a sure sign she was pissed. “You’re willing to throw your future away over a girl? Everything you’ve worked for. Your career, your family, yourlegacy.”
My teeth clenched. “You’re blowing this out of proportion. They’re just photos.” Not even risqué ones, at that.
Dammit, I should’ve taken more precautions. I’d been arrogant, careless. So sure no one would ever catch on.
What had I been thinking?
That’s the problem. You weren’t.
I’d been too distracted by Isabella, and it’d come back to bite us both in the ass.
My mind flashed back to the note I’d received at the Saxon Gallery. I’d brushed it off as a prank, but perhaps there was more to it than I originally thought. The timing seemed awfully suspicious.
Be careful. Not everyone is who they seem.
Who could they be talking about? Victor? Clarissa? Someone else at the gallery?
“They’re just photos now,” my mother said, drawing my attention back to her. “Who knows what else will come out? It only takes a spark to start a fire, andanyscandal, no matter how small, could lose you crucial votes.”
The pressure expanded, dimming my vision. I couldn’t focus. My usual cold clarity had vanished, leaving a whirlwind of tumult in its wake. There were a thousand voices in my head, clamoring to edge the others out like commuters shoving their way onto a rush-hour train.
Keep her. Leave her.
“I’ll fix it.”
“You only have—”
“I know how much time I have.” I rarely snapped at family. Asian children simply did not talk back to their parents, no matter how grown up or successful they were. But if I didn’t get off the phone in the next five minutes, I would explode. “Like I said, I’ll fix it. In two weeks, the photos will be a mere memory and I’ll be voted in as CEO.”
The other option was too awful to contemplate.
