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The dinging of my computer pulled my face out of my hands, but when I saw the news alert I couldn’t move quickly enough. Right there, in black and white—as it loaded onto my screen—was a headline that bottomed out my gut into my toes.
BREAKING NEWS: L.A.’S MOST ELIGIBLE BACHELOR FINALLY OFF THE MARKET.
I gawked at the pictures as I scrolled through the article. It had been released only seconds ago, and already it was trending on Twitter. Hashtag Single No More? More like, hashtag Fuck No More. Until I knew what in the absolute hell was going on, I wouldn’t step foot anywhere else with Eden. Or her family, for that matter. As much as she wanted to believe her family was innocent in all of this, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that they weren’t. Maybe her sister hadn’t been involved in anything, but her father knew something. That god damn man knew something, and I had a right to know what he knew.
Because now, they were fucking with my life, too.
“No way,” I said breathlessly.
There were fucking pictures of me and Eden splashed everywhere, but not simply from the Maldives. Her, bobbing around in her bikini while lounging on that god damn innertube. Pictures of me through the side window of my cabana throwing together a salad for lunch. There were pictures of Eden walking along the sand with me standing on the porch. Pictures from the side of us eating food out on the balcony. But, as I scrolled toward the end of the article, I set my sights on pictures that were impossible.
“The cottage!?” I exclaimed.
There were just as many pictures of us in the cottage in Italy. Pictures through the kitchen window of Eden eating a muffin. Pictures of me with my laptop in my lap while she hung out on the couch, mindlessly flipping through the television. There were even pictures of us sitting on the front porch on opposite sides sipping our morning coffee and not so much as glancing at one another.
How in the absolute fuck had they taken pictures without me noticing?
I slowly stood to my feet as the implications dawned upon me. I was being followed. Hell, for all I knew, someone was following the both of us. And while I was no stranger to the paparazzi, this felt… off. Italy had always been my escape. They had some of the most stringent paparazzi laws on the planet, and because of that I’d never once had an issue with people coming onto my property and taking pictures. And yet, they were plastered all over the internet, being retweeted and shared on every single social media outlet available to the masses.
Whatever this is, it ends today.
I ripped my cell phone out of my pocket and fumbled with it as I scrolled to find Eden’s number. My fingertips went numb as my hands shook with fury, but I was done playing games. Despite the fear coursing through my veins, something else overrode my senses. Something more powerful, and more carnal, and more survivalist than anything else.
And whatever the fuck was going on, her family would tell me. She’d tell me. Because as God as my witness that night, this puzzle needed to end immediately.
And before any of us went to sleep, I’d have the answers I needed at my disposal.
