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“We’re going to get through this,” I say, pulling her up into my arms and holding her tight while she buries her head against my shoulder. “It’s going to be rough for a while, but I promise we’ll make it to the other side.”
I still don’t know how we’re going to make it, but I’m not going to let her think for a second that she’ll have to face this on her own. For better or worse, we’re in this together. And while there are a million things we should both be doing right now, giving her a few minutes to cry has become my number one priority.
“It’s gonna be okay,” I whisper, breaking away from our embrace so I can plant a kiss on her forehead.
“Will it be okay? Are you sure? Because this feels like we’re being crushed by the weight of the world. People are going to see us naked. Being intimate. Having sex. I-I don’t know if I can handle that, Keir.”
I can’t blame her for how she’s feeling. Hell, I feel the same way. I’ve failed her—failed to keep the sex tape from going public, failed to keep her safe yet a-fucking-gain—and she still somehow has faith in me. She’s still looking to me for answers, for comfort, for reassurance.
And by God, that’s what I’m going to give her. I can’t undo the damage that’s already been done, but I can still do my best to stop the bleeding.
“I’ll hire people to scrub the internet,” I say, feeling a new sense of urgency. “They’ll take the video down wherever they find it. Then we’ll lay low for a while until all the craziness blows over. I’ll be right here with you every step of the way.”
She nods and draws in a ragged breath. “Do you promise?”
“I promise. One hundred percent.” Easiest promise I’ve ever had to make.
“Okay,” she nods again and then takes a deeper, steadier breath. “O-kay. I believe you. I need to call my dad and my sister so I can warn them not to talk to the press.”
I grimace. “I should probably call my sister, too. Jesus, that’s a call I don’t want to make.”
“Maybe it’ll be easier if we sit next to each other while we make those calls? Then maybe we won’t feel like we’re so alone?”
Damn, I hate that I’ve put her in this position. If I find out James is behind this leak, I swear to God I’ll put him in the hospital.
“You aren’t alone,” I remind her because I know she needs to hear it again. “I’m going to be right here next to you. Right by your side.”
We sit down on the sofa together with our phones in hand. I fire off a text to my lawyer while she dials her dad’s number. This is how we’re going to spend our morning, putting out fires and making awkward apologies. Hell, this is probably how we’re going to spend the next few days. Maybe the next few weeks.
As bad as this situation is—and fuck, it’s bad—I can honestly say there’s one tiny sliver of a silver lining that I can already see.
I care about Ella.
It’s so simple and obvious, but it’s taken me this long to fully admit it, even within the privacy of my own thoughts. Seeing her so upset and vulnerable does something to me. It makes me want to help her and protect her, to hold her close and reassure her that everything is going to be okay.
That isn’t something I’d do if I didn’t care about her. I can’t fake those feelings and I can’t deny them, either.
Soon, once this shit storm has passed, I hope I can sit down with her and tell her—out loud, in no uncertain terms—exactly how I feel.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-SEVEN
ELLA
I’ve been through a lot of rough times in my life, but having a sex tape released to the world feels like it might just be rock bottom.
As much as I wouldn’t wish this kind of humiliation and embarrassment on anyone, it does give me a little comfort to know I’m not the only one trying to cope with it.
True to his word, Keir has been by my side through this entire ordeal. We’ve had a few tense moments over the past few days, but he’s been my rock. He’s let me cry on his shoulder and curl up in his bed. He’s shown the kind of patience and understanding that I would have sworn he didn’t possess a few weeks ago.
Now, in a rented villa an hour outside of Monte Carlo, it finally feels like we’ve escaped. We made it out of Glasgow alive, and it seems there might be a tiny ray of light at the end of this long, dark tunnel.
Sitting on the terraced back patio, we have the most picturesque view I’ve ever seen. There are vineyards and citrus orchards on one side and the warm waves of the Mediterranean on the other. I can almost look out there and pretend that we’re on a regular vacation without a care in the world.
Almost.
Keir’s rumbling voice pulls me from my thoughts as he sits down next to me with a cup of coffee. “I’m worried about Isla. Do you think she knows what’s going on?”
It’s a question we’ve each asked at least once a day since this nightmare started, but I still can’t give him a definite answer.
