Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 45531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
“I’m not complaining,” he says.
“It was like I became somebody else. When we were… being intimate. It was so sweet to hear how badly you wanted it.”
“Sweet?” He smirks. “I’ve got to work on being more manly.”
I laugh, slapping his arm playfully. I love doing that, the little bantering moments that make us… us.
“I mean, it’s what drove me,” I go on. “I didn’t have to think, Am I making myself look silly? Not when you looked so obsessed.”
“You looked anything but silly,” he says. “You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
I’m tempted to argue with that assessment, but then he leans over and kisses me on the cheek.
“The. Sexiest. I won’t hear any different.”
The light changes, and he drives on, handling the car with his usual casual confidence, but I’m sure I can detect some insecurity there, too.
“Are you nervous about this meeting?”
“It’ll be fine.”
I lay my hand on his arm, but not to slap him this time. I squeeze him supportively.
“The truth, remember?”
He grins. “You see right through me, don’t you?”
I hope I do. I hope I wasn’t imagining the hints last night, during our date, the implication that he’s been waiting for me to have kids.
“I don’t know who took the photo,” he says. “I don’t know what they want.”
“I’m nervous, too.”
He chuckles darkly. “Thanks for not making me say it.”
Soon, we’re at the bar. The street is quiet, but the graffiti-covered walls and cars sitting on cinderblocks tell us what kind of area this is. The bar itself has a shabby front, several of the letters missing, and the paint fading.
“What if they want to do more than blackmail you?” I whisper.
“If they try to physically do anything,” Jacob growls, “they’ll wish they’d never taken the photo. I won’t let anybody hurt you. I’d kill every bastard in there before I let that happen.”
Suddenly, he’s a human volcano, rage bubbling like lava and ready to blow.
“Whoa,” I whisper.
I didn’t know he cared that much. He attempts to smirk it all away, but he can’t completely hide the anger.
“Seems I got carried away. Come on.”
We walk across the street together. I flinch when he takes my hand. He looks down at me. I’ll never get bored with how I have to crane my head to look up at my man.
“They’ve already got the photos, and anyway, I don’t want to be ashamed of touching you, Maddie, of being with you.”
It’s not the cautious thing to do, but his words rally me. I have more visions of the future—posing for awards and events, paparazzi taking our photos when we’re on dates, being with Mom, or the sitter tending to the kids at home. It’s not that I want to be famous or that I particularly long for the day when my privacy is at greater risk. It’s more that I know he’s not embarrassed. He wants the world to know we’re together.
Clarissa Garcia, the editor who buried the original dog-theft story, is waiting for us in the bar. It’s empty except for her, sitting at the rear of the room, an older woman with her hair cut into a bob, a heavy layer of pale makeup, and golden jewelry winking at her ears, neck, and wrists. Her hands fidget at each other as she stands.
“Thanks for coming,” she says.
Jacob laughs in that dark way I’ve come to love so much. There’s that word again. Love.
“Oh, it’s our pleasure,” Jacob says ironically.
“You didn’t leave us much choice,” I say with no irony, just in case she missed the point.
Clarissa flinches. “Would you like a drink?”
I glance at the bar. There’s no staff.
“I’d make it,” she says, seeing me looking. “I thought it would be better if we had the place to ourselves.”
“Blackmail loves privacy, huh?” I taunt.
I didn’t plan on being so combative, but being here reminds me of what’s at stake if those photos leak. Mom’s confusion, Jacob’s public image… Maybe the fallout would lead to Jacob stopping this before it truly begins.
She shrugs and sits at the table. Jacob and I sit on the opposite side.
“Let’s start with the facts,” Jacob says. “You set us up last night specifically to snap those photos.”
Clarissa nods. “I didn’t expect you to kiss or hold hands. A photo of you with a much younger woman would be enough, I thought.”
“But you hit the jackpot,” I snap. “I’ve researched you online, Clarissa. You’ve reported from overseas. You’ve uncovered countless scandals, but somewhere along the way, you stopped caring. You started burying stories. Evil, evil stories… about dogs kept in vicious conditions, being mistreated.”
Clarissa sighs. “It’s more complicated than that. Editor jobs…”
She cuts herself off, but I seize on it.
“They’re not common, right? And especially not on your salary. What you’re saying is, you’d do anything to keep your job, even if it means going against every journalistic standard you’re supposed to uphold.”