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“Princess, this is Teagan we’re talking about. The girl can hardly look a person in the eye. Do you really think she has it in her?”
Mallory shakes me off, but the anger slowly dissipates from her face.
“You’re right,” she says after a moment. She takes a deep breath and looks at me, her face solemn. “It’s something Theresa would do. Not Teagan.”
That gives me pause. Could Teagan have noticed something and slipped up, mentioning it in front of that devil woman?
“We’ll figure it out,” I tell her.
Her jaw is still clenched, and something tells me there’s nothing I can say to convince her of that.
Right now, we’re a joke. We’re the punchline of every social media influencer.
It sucks.
But what can we do but hold our heads high?
She turns toward me, eyes wild. “We have to deny this. There weren’t pictures to prove a damn thing. We can go to Natasha . . . have her help spin this.”
“I don’t trust Natasha for shit, Mallory. She’s more likely to stoke the fire. Our fuckup means fewer eyes on the movie, Brad, and Teagan.”
Her eyes close, and a pained look crosses over her delicate face. “You’re right. We’ll be thrown under the bus and blamed for all that’s happened here.”
I nod, hating it’s come down to this.
One thing is for sure—it’s time to face the music.
“Go shower. We need to head out soon. Get ahead of this.”
She shakes her head. “I need to think.”
I take her by her shoulders and turn her toward the bathroom. “Think in the shower.”
Mallory turns around and stares at me, and her eyes look glassy, like she’s seconds away from crying. I’m ready to comfort her, but she continues. “Do we have to do this?” Her bottom lip trembles, and I want to physically hurt whoever did this to her.
I don’t give a fuck about myself. It’s her that I’m concerned about. What will this do to her career? She’s just getting started. I already have a reputation as a playboy, so I’ll be fine.
“We can’t keep running away from the truth, Mallory,” I reply softly. “This isn’t going away anytime soon.”
She turns away. I can tell she’s still angry, but she’s also sad. Not a good combo. Despite what she claims, I know she still believes it was Teagan.
Either way, we can’t do anything about it now. We have to face everyone and deal with the fallout.
This was bound to happen, eventually. I’ve been acting like a love-sick idiot. It was only a matter of time before someone got suspicious.
Yet, if given the choice, I’d do it again. In a goddamn heartbeat.
The fallout is worth every second I spent with Mallory.
I can only hope that, somehow, we’ll end up on the right side of this. That whatever happens doesn’t break Mallory completely.
Only time will tell.
43
Mallory
@Stargossip: When it rains, it pours, and the news coming from the island is juicy.
Sexual harassment allegations. A sabotaged set. An affair between agents.
Oh my . . .
@Cloudyqueen69: Pictures, or it didn’t happen.
@Lastman_standing: You’re sick in the head.
The entire time I shower, my mind whirls. My anger bounces around from one person to the next, yet it ultimately lands on Paxton.
We both made it clear we had to be careful, and he pushed the envelope at every turn. I repeatedly asked if we were safe out there on the water, and he gave me his word that we were.
Teagan saw him and someone else. We weren’t safe. We weren’t hidden at all, and he didn’t care.
Why? Because it didn’t affect him. He’s notorious for hooking up with women. His company is established and swimming with clients. Rising stars clamor to work with him. On the other hand, I’ve been sunk before I could even float.
Once we’re both dressed, he follows me out of the hut, but I’m too angry and upset to care.
“Stop, Mal.”
I spin around and look him in the eye. “No. This is your fault. I trusted you. Now I need to clean up the mess you made.”
I can’t contain the rage building inside me. I know it’s not all his fault, but I can’t help but lash out.
“Don’t even go there, princess.” His voice has an edge that takes me back to the early days when he treated me like shit.
I was a damn fool to think he cared for one minute about anything more than a hookup.
“I’ll go wherever I damn well please.” I poke my finger in the air before his chest, but he stands firm. “You said we were safe out there on the boat.”
“Mal . . .”
“Admit it, Paxton. Don’t dance around my question. Not now.”
He shakes his head. “It wasn’t like that, and you know it. Stop acting like a petulant child for a second, and let’s talk.”
“Fuck you,” I snap, my voice dripping with disdain. I turn back around, stalking toward camp.
