Maybe she has a sugar daddy … But then why did she act so coquettishly around me?
Follow the money.
The anonymous tip comes back to me. Maybe it wasn't about my wife but about the people around her. I had Paddington check Traci and Dennis out, but not do a detailed workup on their finances.
Quickly, I text Paddington, rectifying that. He confirms my request, as usual. I tap my fingers on my desk. How am I going to get my wife to stop seeing Traci until Paddington comes back with information I've requested? They work together, and I know Traci's been ingratiating herself with Belle, who's been too lonely and isolated over the last two years to reject her childhood friend.
My phone goes off, jarring me out of my contemplation. It's Ryder.
"Did you see that what-the-fuck article?" His words ring loud and clear through the Bluetooth piece hooked to my ear. "I say article. It's more like … tabloid diarrhea or something."
"I thought you didn't read tabloid trash."
"I don't, but my publicist forwarded it to me since it involves you and Wife Number Three." Ryder curses under his breath. "I haven't shown it to Paige-no reason to upset her-but god. 'According to an unnamed source,' my ass."
I press my lips together. I appreciate the outrage, and I don't want to fess up to being the unnamed source. If any of this shit blows up, I don't want Ryder dragged into it. "Well. What can you do?"
"I have an excellent attorney for this kind of stuff."
"There's the Streisand effect," I point out.
"Argh. Well … I don't know. But you gotta make them pay."
Hmm. Maybe Ryder has a point. Besides, I do want as many people as possible to read the damned article. "Maybe a lawsuit is just the thing. Make it as big as possible."
"No," Ryder says. "You're supposed to make it go away quietly." He pauses. "That's what you want, right?"
"Hold on a minute."
I open a browser. The "article" is more like a titillating gossip piece with the photos I supplied. The "reporter" did a good job of spinning everything into an over-the-top exposé with a salacious undertone suggesting a fucked-up and forbidden obsession on Annabelle Underhill's part. I skim the writing. The piece starts from our initial dating, then to her marriage to my father, her divorce, her second marriage to Stanton and now her quest to break Belle and me up so she can take her place by my side as Mrs. Elliot Reed. The photos add authenticity.
I check some social media sites. There's no point in putting something like this out there if nobody hears about it. Thankfully, it's one of the top trending topics. Given the unexpected market movement yesterday, I've been bracing myself for disappointment.
Smiling with relief, I pour some scotch and silently toast myself.
"Are you there?" comes Ryder's concerned voice. "It's not that bad."
"You're right. It's not."
"Who did you piss off to get that shit smeared everywhere? My team had no clue somebody was going to do this. They never noticed anybody digging." The terse note in his words does not bode well for his people.
I feel bad, since they couldn't have known. They most likely never suspected I would betray myself. "I'm actually relieved it all came out."
Ryder doesn't speak for a moment. "Uh … what?"
"Everything in the article is true."
"Jesus." He huffs out audibly. "Even the closet incident?"
"Yup."
"What the fuck. Does your wife know?"
At the mention of my wife, tension creeps into my neck and shoulders. I roll my neck around. "Does it matter?"
"That depends. Do you care?" Ryder knows why I married Belle in the first place. He married his assistant Paige for the same reason, although that's a moot point now that he's in love with her and they're having a baby together.
"Of course I care," I say. "Look, this may work out for the best."
"How come?"
"Didn't you hear?"
"About what?"
Huh. Maybe Paige hasn't told him. "Number Three threatened Belle."
"With what?" Ryder sounds incredulous.
"She said she'd release more dirt on her."
Ryder snorts. "Like you would care."
"I don't, but my sister-in-law does."
"Aw, shit. I totally forgot about her. Nonny, right? Nice kid, but a little sensitive."
"Typical teenager. Everything's life or death."
"I was never like that."
"Because you have the sensitivity of a mule on morphine. And she's not used to the kind of lifestyle we lead." I lean back in my seat. "I don't want her hurt. Aside from Nonny being a nice kid, it upsets my wife."