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My phone starts going off, buzzing incessantly, and I reach for it, wondering what’s going on. Carlo walks into the living room a second later. I turn to look at him and see a stony expression on his face.
I frown, putting my phone on silent before getting to my feet. An uneasy feeling settles in my gut. “What’s wrong?”
“We have a problem,” he replies, handing me his phone.
An article’s headline grabs my attention.
“ARRANGED MARRIAGES AMONG THE ELITE: How far will the wealthy go to embrace—or evade—a destined union? The Astoria Bianchi and Carlo D’Angelo faux romance, courtesy of The Metropolitan Gazette.”
I gasp, fumbling with my phone, but Carlo’s quick reflexes save it. I lock eyes with his intense dark gaze.
“How did they discover it?”
Carlo’s jaw tenses. “I’m trying to figure that out.”
“But nobody should know about this. Your family would never reveal it. Oh, my God.” Another gasp escapes me. “My parents are going to see this.”
Worry flickers in Carlo’s eyes. “I know. The article broke too quickly for me to stop it. Larsen’s usually on top of things like this especially involving my family, but even he didn’t know until the article was published.”
I take a seat on the couch, breathing out shakily. “My parents are going to lose their shit.”
Carlo gets on one knee in front of me. His thumb brushes my cheek. “It’ll be fine. I’ll take care of it.”
I let out a short, bitter laugh. “I really don’t think this is a problem you can take care of, Lo.”
He frowns and is about to say something else when his phone starts to ring. He gets up and answers the call.
“Khalil, please tell me you know how they found out.”
I look up at him, catching the way his posture goes rigid. Whatever Khalil told him must have been surprising. I get to my feet again, moving to stand in front of him.
“What’s wrong? Who was it?” I question urgently.
Carlo lets out a sigh, running his hand through his hair. “I’m going to have to call you back, Khalil.” He drops his phone and looks at me. “It was Nora, baby. She sold the story to the Met Gazette.”
It takes me a second to compute what he’s telling me.
“No. No way,” I say, shaking my head in disbelief. “She wouldn’t.”
“Tori,” he says gently, reaching for my shoulder.
I shift out of his grasp. “Carlo, she wouldn’t!”
He gives me a sympathetic look.
“I can—I can prove it,” I say, reaching for my phone. There are about ten missed calls from my parents, but I ignore them and the numerous other texts and notifications to dial Nora’s number. It rings and rings but she doesn’t pick up. My eyes prick with tears. I call her number again.
“I was just talking to her a few days ago. She sounded so excited when I told her we’ve been together for a month. She wouldn’t… she wouldn’t do this.”
When I call Nora again and there’s still no reply, I fall onto the couch, my body shaking. A sob climbs up my throat. Carlo’s there in an instant, pulling me into his lap. He holds me like a baby as I cry.
“I trusted her,” I say when I finally stop crying. My voice is hoarse.
Carlo cleans the tears from my cheeks. “I know, baby.”
“She was supposed to be my friend.”
“I know,” he says softly.
