Filfthy (61 page)

D
erek

S
weat beads
from my forehead as I return from my run Sunday evening. I took Haven back to her mother’s earlier, then came back for a run because, apparently, I needed more than a two-hour drive to clear my head.

I peel off my clothes and climb in the shower, my breaths stabilizing and my thoughts finally clearing, and when I step out, my phone is vibrating against the bathroom counter.

It’s Demi.

“What’s going on?” I answer, steam clouding my screen as I put it on speaker. Grabbing a towel, I dry off and wrap it snug around my waist.

“Thank God you answered.” Demi’s voice is breathy, and my heart sinks.

“What? What is it?” I can’t stand when she does this to me and she knows it.

“Have you heard?”

“Heard what?” My hands grip my towel until my knuckles whiten.

“I’m looking online,” she says. “There’s this story going around. And pictures. From last night.”

“About what?”

“Serena.”

There’s a tightness in my chest that takes all the strength I have to ignore, and a mix of emotions steal my words and render me temporarily speechless.

“It’s all over
Page Six
’s website.
Radar Online
.
TMZ
.” Demi exhales into the phone. “Apparently, Serena was with Keir Montgomery last night. There are photos of them leaving a bar and going to the Gramercy Hotel. Did you know she was going back to the city to see him?”

I see red for a moment. And then black. I’m not sure how much times passes, but I’m brought out of my time warp when I hear Demi repeating my name over and over.

“I’m still here,” I say.

“Okay, because there’s more.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“According to a source,
Page Six
is saying Serena has been physically involved with her conservator, attorney Derek Rosewood of Rosewood and Rosewood, LLP.”

“Fuck.” I slam my fist against the granite, but I don’t feel a thing.

This is exactly why I didn’t want to get involved.

Attorney-client sexual relations violate the
Model Code
and
Model Rules
.

This is bad. This is really, really bad. And I knew better. I fucking knew better.

“Thanks for the heads up, Dem.” I end the call and attempt to finish getting ready while simultaneously inhaling the photos of Serena and Keir that litter the internet.

In one photo, just outside the hotel, his hand rests on the small of her back and he’s leaning in close, whispering in her ear.

I can’t think straight.

I can’t see straight.

And when I finally walk out of my room, the first thing I see is
her
.

S
erena

“
H
ey
.” I’m standing in the middle of his apartment foyer, my heart recovering from the leap it took when I heard the clink of his doorknob. I’d been out here at least a half-hour, and I wasn’t sure if he was hiding from me.

Or if he’d heard the latest gossip.

Derek brushes past me, making his way into the kitchen and more or less pretending I’m not there.

“Did you and Haven have a nice weekend?” I follow, speaking to the backside of him.

“Why are you here?”

My hand lifts slowly to my chest. “I beg your pardon?”

When he turns to face me, his expression is hard, filled with the kind of resentment he probably reserves for his ex-wife.

“You went to the city to see your ex,” he says. “The one who fucked you over.”

I laugh. He has seen the articles. “I can explain.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Clearly, you’ve read the articles, and you know as well as I that they just write what they want to write.” I step around the kitchen island and move closer. “Whatever sells. Doesn’t have to be true.”

“I saw the photos.” He moves away from me, his jaw flexing and clenching. “But it doesn’t fucking matter, because you’re not mine. You don’t belong to me. I’m not your boyfriend. But tell me, Serena, why is
Page Six
reporting that you have a sexual relationship with your attorney? Do you understand what this means? What this could potentially to do to my
career
?”

I lean over the edge of the island, elbows resting and face buried in my hands. “I’m so sorry, Derek.”

“What the hell did you do, Serena? Who did you tell? Why would you . . .”

I dare myself to look him in the eyes. To face what I’ve done. “I take full responsibility.”

“How
honorable
of you.” He moves to the sink, his back to me once again.

“I went to the city to visit Poppy. She’s one of my best friends.” I exhale. “Was. Was one of my best friends.”

“You know, it really doesn’t fucking matter at this point.” He laughs a mean sort of laugh. “The damage has been done. All it’s going to take is one person filing a complaint against me, and an investigation will be launched.”

“Can’t we just deny everything?”

“Yes, because lawyers lying during their own investigation isn’t one hundred percent grounds for permanent disbarment.”

“We were having a girls’ weekend,” I say. “It felt good to talk about something nice for a change, and I talked about you. The fun we had. How great you are in bed . . .”

“Save it.”

I ignore him because he needs to hear this, and this may be the last time I get the chance to tell him.

“We went out for drinks last night. Keir showed up. Poppy tipped him off,” I say. “Apparently, they’ve been talking, and she wanted us to get back together. She thought she was helping. Anyway, Keir wouldn’t leave me alone. And the paparazzi showed up, and I had no way to get out of there, so he dropped me off at a hotel.”

Derek laughs. He doesn’t believe me. And that’s fair. I know how far-fetched my story sounds, but every word of it is true whether he chooses to believe it.

“As I was walking away, he stopped me. Said he had a confession to make,” I continue. “I let him come upstairs so we could talk in private.”

He faces me, perfect lips pulled into a sneer. “Do I look that naïve to you, Serena?”

“He told me Veronica put him up to everything. She paid him fifteen million dollars to cheat on me and to make sure I caught him. She wanted me to see, to get upset. She wanted me to come unhinged so it would set the wheels in motion for her master plan.”

“Oh. Okay. So I get it. Since he was bribed, everything is okay now. You’re going to forgive him. Go back to your old life and those Satan spawn friends of yours. Good fucking riddance.”

My brows arch and meet, and I step toward him. Something takes over. I don’t know what it is. All I know is within seconds, my palm is stinging from the slap I just gave him, and he stands there, stoic and unmoved, taking it like a man with no soul.

“No,” I say. “It doesn’t make it okay. I haven’t forgiven him. And I don’t do second chances.”

Before he has a chance to respond, I’m at the door. Leaving.

By the time I hit the sidewalk outside his place, I realize I have no purse. No wallet. No phone.

I have no idea where I’m going to go, but I can’t go back in there. Derek’s not in a mood where I can reason with him, and he has every right to be angry with me. His career is on the line, and for what?

Because I selfishly seduced him.

* * *

M
y feet ache
in my flats, and a brisk draft blows my blouse as I pace the sidewalks of downtown Rixton Falls.

I don’t know where I am or what time it is. I only know I’m not ready to go back yet.

The crunch of tires on gravel pulls my attention to a little alley parking lot, and the driver’s side window rolls down.

“Serena?” A woman’s voice calls.

Upon closer look, I recognize the driver immediately.

“Demi.” I step toward her and force a smile on my face.

“What are you doing out here? Where’s my brother?”

“I’m just walking. He’s at home.”

She studies me, frowning. “What’d he do now?”

I laugh. “Everything’s fine.”

“You look sad. He was an asshole, wasn’t he? What’d he do?” Her face falls. “This is about the pictures, isn’t it? The articles?”

My lower lip trembles. “He didn’t do anything. It was all me.”

Demi scrunches her lips. “Get in. Let’s talk.”

We drive for what feels like hours, and Demi rattles on about how difficult her brother can be, how it takes a special person to give him a chance in the first place, how she only loves him because he’s family and if he weren’t, she’d label him a giant asshole who only cares about his career and his daughter. She says she’s been telling him for years to open up a little more. To be nicer. To let people in. And then she tells me about the divorce and Kyla and how the only time she sees him smile anymore is when he has Haven.

And then she tells me if I want to get back with Keir, that I shouldn’t let Derek dissuade me. That I’m my own person, and I have to do what’s best for me.

“Thank you, Demi. But you should know, I’m not back with Keir,” I say after a while. “And truly. Derek didn’t do anything. It was all me.”

“Psh.” She swats the air. “My brother’s not perfect. You don’t have to shoulder the blame. Every fight is fifty-fifty. That’s what our father always says.”

I stare out the window for a moment, gathering my thoughts.

“I may have told a friend about . . . our indiscretions.” I swallow the hard ball in my throat. “And it turns out, that friend wasn’t such a good friend after all, because she sold that information.”

Demi inhales quickly, her hand splaying across her mouth. “How awful, Serena.”

“So Derek is upset,” I say. “And rightfully so. He was so angry earlier. I really don’t want to go back there. I think I should give him space.”

“Where are you going to go?”

“I have no clue. All my things are back there. My wallet. My phone.” I rest my elbow against the door and press my forehead against my hand. “He was fuming, and I didn’t think. I just ran.”

“You’re staying with me.” Demi pulls to a stop sign and turns to me.

“I couldn’t do that to you.”

“I insist.” She nods. “You can stay with us as long as you need. And tomorrow, when my brother’s at work, I’ll drive you back to his place so you can go in and get your things.”

“Wow . . . Thank you, Demi. So sweet of you.”

She smiles, her gaze soft and motherly, and I instantly wish we were best friends. Everything about her is genuine and honeyed, and not once has she commented on anything remotely related to my appearance.

“It’s nothing.” She swats her hand, and we head to her place.

I’m not sure when I’ll see Derek again, but at this rate, I’m not sure he’ll ever want to see me again.

D
erek

F
our days ago
, Serena walked out of my apartment.

Three days ago, I returned from work to find the guest room cleared out.

Two days ago, on a whim and after consuming no fewer than six bottles of Heineken, I called every hotel in a thirty-mile radius to see if she was there.

She wasn’t.

Yesterday, my father was forced to place me on paid leave pending the third-party investigation of a complaint filed against me for sleeping with a client.

As far as I know, Serena packed up and headed back to the city. She’s probably shacking up with that silver-spooned asshat who’s incapable of taking a photo that doesn’t include his signature smug grin.

But she’s officially not my problem any longer.

Her conservatorship has been passed to an associate attorney at the firm, and she’ll be handling Serena’s petition from here on out.

For all intents and purposes, I’m no longer tied to Serena Randall, although the tabloids haven’t stopped discussing us since Sunday. Rumors and speculation are all they have. One magazine even published an old yearbook photo of mine and interviewed some woman I’ve never heard of who was purporting to be an ex-girlfriend from college.

But none of it matters.

The damage is done.

I’m under investigation, and my name is connected to hers in the worst way possible.

All I had to do was say no.

But one hit of Serena Randall was all it took to become senselessly addicted.

S
erena

I
t’s been
two weeks since I walked out of Derek’s apartment, and a week ago, I received a call from an attorney named Shayla who works at his firm. She said my case had been passed along to her, and I didn’t ask for details.

I didn’t need to.

He wants nothing to do with me.

And I can’t blame him.

Our hearing was last Friday, and as of that afternoon, I was officially free from the shackles of that ridiculous conservatorship.

“You packing?” Demi stands in the doorway of the guestroom in the little house she shares with her boyfriend. The room is tiny, barely fitting a double bed, but it’s been one of the coziest places I’ve ever temporarily called home.

I don’t want to leave.

“I am,” I say.

Demi pouts. “It’s been so nice having you around.”

“Thank you for letting me stay here,” I say. All the times I protested her kindness and insisted I go find a hotel, Demi always refused. And for that, I’m grateful, because being alone with my own thoughts these last couple of weeks probably wouldn’t have been the best thing for me.

“Come to my parents’ house today for brunch.” Demi’s face lights. “My mom makes the best quiche and cinnamon rolls, and my sisters are in town, and I know they’d love to meet you.”

My breath catches in my throat, because the first thing that pops into my mind is the thought of seeing Derek again.

I can’t.

I can’t go there, knowing I might see him, knowing that the mere thought of him makes my stomach twist into a hundred knots.

My hands clam up as I fold my clothes and lay them neatly in the bottom of my suitcase. “I can’t impose.”

“You wouldn’t be imposing. My mother
loves
cooking for company. She’d be
tickled
.” Demi steps inside the room, taking a seat on the foot of the bed. “And my dad is . . . he’s a lot like Derek. He’s an acquired taste. But he’s harmless. He’ll love you. Really.”

“Demi.” I sigh, feeling my eyes sting. I try to blink away the tears, but it’s too late.

The other weekend, Demi tried to convince me to attend Haven’s birthday party. Apparently Haven had mentioned me again, asking if I was coming. It broke my heart, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t make things awkward and uncomfortable, and I wasn’t entirely sure Derek would appreciate having me there anyway.

“If this is about Derek,” Demi scoots closer, legs crossed and leaning in, “I don’t think he’s in town, sweets. Last I knew, he went away for a little bit.”

I lift a brow. “Really?”

I gave Demi strict orders not to tell Derek I was with her, and I told her not to mention his name around me unless she absolutely had to. I didn’t want to make things harder than they already were.

“Yep.” Demi purses the corner of her lips. “Said he needed to get away for a bit. Do some thinking. And let me tell you, that is
not
my brother. He doesn’t run away like that. Something must really be bothering him.”

“Where’d he go?”

“New York City.” Demi exhales, head tilting, and gives me a no-nonsense look. “And, Serena?”

“Yes.”

“My brother
hates
the city.”