Careful not to disturb her, I unwound myself from Kallie and eased out of bed. I tucked the covers back to her chin, a gentle sweep of her hair as I leaned in and pressed a kiss to her temple, breathing her in again before I silently tiptoed from the room, leaving the door cracked open behind me.
The smell of coffee lifted from below, and I stole down the stairs, the subdued noises echoing from the kitchen urging me on.
Sebastian.
I nudged the swinging doors open to find him facing away in the middle of the room, shirtless, muscles bunched and tensed, the entire room filled with his harsh beauty, the air abrasive and vibrating with his gravity.
A hand gripped his hair and the other had his phone crammed to his ear. “I don’t fucking care what you have to do, Anthony…who I have to sue or bribe or pay…get it down. Now.”
His voice dripped hostility, his body bristled with anger.
Cautiously, I stepped into the disturbed energy, my stomach twisting tight.
Sebastian froze when he felt me. Each exposed muscle triggered when he finally moved, inch by excruciating inch as he turned to look at me.
Horror stretched across his entire face. He slowly pulled the phone from his ear, cutting the call off without a parting word.
“Shea.”
My name was pure remorse.
Sorrow.
Regret.
Fear lifted in my throat, and my hand went there, fingers trembling at my neck as if I could keep this terrible feeling away. “What is it?”
His eyes dropped closed and I knew he wanted to shield me from it. Protect me again. But the terror tumbling through my spirit promised he could not protect me from whatever this was.
“What is it?” I demanded a little louder, and reluctantly he lifted his phone, his jaw clenched as he clicked onto that same celebrity site where I’d read that first article, which had been filled with snide and snark, questioning Sunder’s whereabouts.
Only this one…
This one was questioning me.
Questioning me as a mother.
Has Stone hit rock bottom?
Sunder front man, Sebastian Stone, has sunk to an all-time low. Reports have tied him to an unknown single mother in the Savannah, Georgia area where a near drowning took place yesterday at the Tybee Beach vacation home of Anthony De Pietro, Sunder’s long-time agent. Witnesses say the child was left unattended in the water while Stone and the mother consorted on the beach. Yet another ugly mark to the tarnished reputation of this infamous bad boy.
There were pictures…pictures of Sebastian and me playing on the beach, ones of him kissing me, the grainy image blurred out where his hand fondled under my suit, though clear enough that the act was unmistakable.
They made it appear lewd. Trashy and dirty.
A choked cry left me with the ones they had posted of Kallie. Her face was also obscured, paramedics hovering around her where they checked her on the beach after Sebastian had saved her life. There were more of us leaving the hospital, a fearful Kallie shrinking in my arms, Sebastian’s expression dangerous as he lashed out at the cameras.
The room spun as this reality struck me. They were accusing me of neglecting my daughter, putting her at risk. As if my daughter’s safety came second to my need to have sex with a rock star.
The horror on Sebastian’s face had become my own.
Only it took root in every cell of my body.
“I will get this taken down, Shea. I promise you. This is invasion of privacy and, more than that, nothing but lies.”
But it was already seen. The insinuations already implied.
And it was only a matter of time before everyone knew my name.
NIGHT ENCROACHED, USHERED IN quickly by the storm that grew on the fringe of the horizon, taking possession of the sky. A streak of lightning twisted and tangled through the dense clouds. A jolt to the air, sending a crackle of energy snapping through the darkening heavens.
Another lash of anger singed me as if the lightning had struck against my flesh. I gripped the steering wheel of the Suburban and focused out the windshield as I rolled into Savannah after leaving Anthony’s place.
This morning, seeing Shea’s reaction had been almost more than I could tolerate, the fear and disgrace that had clouded every feature on that gorgeous face.
I’d been here before. Many times. Not a whole lot could surprise me anymore— the way the stories were slanted, skewed to fit whatever bill they wanted to fill.
But this.
This was appalling. Fucking. Appalling. Those pictures nothing but sickening.
I’d left Shea under the guise of needing to handle it, that I needed to go back to Anthony’s office at the house where I’d sit in on Skype calls with my attorney, publicist, and agent throughout the day, seeing to it that this garbage was thrown in the trash bin, exactly where it belonged.