JACE (Lane Brothers Book 3) (98 page)

              Sasha spent the entire taxi journey to the Atomic office mulling things over in her head, trying to work out what to do for the best. Despite her argument with Thomas, she knew she couldn’t publish the original article she’d written about him. She would never stoop that low. But she also couldn’t write the article Kelly wanted her to write either. She didn’t want to do a kiss-and-tell, especially one that ended in her humiliation.

              The first person she bumped into when she got into the office was Alicia, recovered from her food-poisoning and back to her full, healthy, raven-haired beauty. By the look on Alicia’s face, it was clear that she’d been briefed on the whole Sasha-Thomas situation. And she wasn’t too happy about having been usurped.

Sasha tried to write her article, but every time she looked up from her desk she saw Alicia—walking past her to the bathroom, getting a top-off from the coffee machine, standing outside her window while having a cigarette. She was pissed, and she wanted to make sure Sasha knew it in every passive-aggressive way conceivable. No words were coming to her. No spin on this, no way of telling a story about Thomas Lloyd that wouldn’t make her seem like a sore loser.

              Just then, Sasha’s cell phone started ringing. It was Thomas. She hit the decline button.

              A moment later one of the receptionist approached her, an excited look on her face.

              “I have Thomas Lloyd on the phone. He wants to talk to you.”

              “Tell him I’m busy,” came Sasha’s terse response.

              The receptionist looked beyond confused. “Are you sure? I mean, it’s Thomas Lloyd. The actor.” She spoke slowly and deliberately, as though Sasha were dumb.

              “I know who he is. I don’t want to speak to him.”

              The receptionist shrugged and walked away, only to return a moment later. “He says it’s urgent.”

              Sasha gave her a wry look. “I don’t want to speak to him,” she repeated.

              Once again the receptionist went away. Once again, she returned a moment later. “He was really persistent. I gave him your email address.” Then she smirked. “And my phone number.”

              “Great,” Sasha muttered under her breath as the air-headed receptionist walked away.

              Straight away, her computer pinged, signaling an incoming email.

              The subject line read: Thought you might need this x

              She opened the email. It was a stream of questions in bold with the answers beneath. He’d written his own interview.

              She shot back an immediate reply. “Thanks but no thanks. I don’t need you to write an article on my behalf for a job you don’t think I need to do. Leave me alone, Thomas.”

              She deleted the email. Another one immediately took its place. It was entitled, ‘I’m sorry.’ The next was titled, ‘I can be a jerk, I know.’ The following one, ‘Not that that’s an excuse.’ And a final one arrived that read, ‘Please help me be a better man.’

Sasha sighed heavily. Just then, she noticed Kelly at the other end of the office, striding towards her desk purposefully.

Shit,
she thought.
If she asks about the article, I’ll have to show her the email from Thomas just so it looks like I’ve made some kind of progress. It’ll buy me some time at least.

Kelly sidled up to her desk. “Have you looked on the internet today?” she said, without any kind of greeting.

“Excuse me?” Sasha replied, frowning.

“The internet. You know. The world at your fingertips. Well, have you?”

“Looked at what specifically?”

“Your boyfriend’s been caught up in a sex tape scandal.”

Sasha felt the blood drain from her face. She swiveled her office chair to face her computer and opened up a browser. As soon as she typed ‘
Thomas Lloyd’
, her browser automatically suggested finishing the search term with ‘sex tape’.

Squinting like a kid watching a scary movie, she hit enter and watched the screen fill up with headline after headline of the breaking news. She picked one at random and waited a moment as the video loaded. And there it was, a place that was immediately familiar to her, Thomas’s kitchen. The image was shot from somewhere inside the room, as though there were a hidden camera amongst the boxes of cereal. It was nighttime, but the room was filled with bright light. It was easy to make out the back of Thomas’s crouched figure and the legs of a naked woman either side of his head.

Ha,
Sasha thought.
The kitchen countertop. I knew he’d…

But her thoughts were interrupted mid-flow, as a strong sense of familiarity hit her. Thomas’s suit. The glasses of white wine. The woman’s legs…

“Kelly that’s…”

“You. I know.” The older woman folded her arms and raised an eyebrow.

Revulsion swirled in Sasha’s stomach. Her head dropped into her hands. He’d filmed her? Without her knowing? “Oh God. This can’t be happening.”

She clicked her browser closed to shut off the video. As she did so, her Outlook screen popped up. There were fifteen messages from Thomas, all with titles related to the scandal. They became progressively more frantic, written in capital letters and aggressively punctuated.

“That absolute worm of a man!” Sasha cried.

Tears flooded her eyes. How had she fallen for his bullshit? And what had been the point of it all? If he’d just wanted some disgusting tape out of it, why all the pretension about giving it a go, about starting some kind of relationship? Unless he had one of his sick cameras set up in every one of his houses. Maybe he was going to tour her around the world, leaking tape after tape of her.

She felt Kelly lightly touch her shoulder, but she couldn’t bear to look at her boss. She knew what that hand of sympathy meant. It was all over. She’d made a mockery of herself and had lost the internship.

Finally, she took a deep breath and swiveled her chair back round slowly, ready to learn her fate. She tipped her head up and looked at Kelly. “Am I off the internship?”

Kelly frowned. “Off? Darling, I’m promoting you.”

“Why?”

“Because the world is going to want to talk to you now. You’re worth ten times what you were before.” Kelly looked so eager Sasha thought she was about to pull her into an embrace.

“But I… I don’t want to be promoted because of this. I don’t want to be known as the woman in the sex tape. Kelly, that’s…that’s abuse! I never consented to being filmed.”

Kelly pouted theatrically. “I know, sweetie. It’s horrible. But it’s also a wonderful opportunity for you.”

Sasha stared at her aghast. “How can you say that? I’ve been used. Betrayed. And you want me to profit from it?”

“What’s your other option? Let it tear you to pieces? Now come on, darling, you’re stronger than that. This is an opportunity, and you need to use this to your advantage. When you write your kiss-and-tell, there won’t be a single person who reads it who can say you’re making it up. You’ll have the feminist community behind you. It won’t be like what happened with Alicia.”             

Sasha stood, but she felt light-headed. “I never wanted this. I never wanted any of this.”

She noticed that people in her office were turning round and staring—people who never said good morning or even thanked her when she’d brought them their coffees. Suddenly, people gave a crap about her, and all because she’d been the victim of Thomas Lloyd’s sick plot.

“Can I take the rest of the morning off?” she said breathlessly, feeling sick.

“Darling, you can take the year off. All we need now is your name. Oh, and your article, don’t worry about that. I’ll get one of the others to write it.
‘How Hollywood’s Sex Pest Duped Me into Bed.’
Something along those lines. You go home and rest up. I’ll have someone in the marketing team add you to the permanent staff part of our website.” Kelly beamed as she sauntered away.

Her head pounding, Sasha packed up her stuff quickly and slung her satchel over her shoulder. The ground felt like foam beneath her feet. As she bustled down the aisle, Alicia gave her a dirty look, then stepped forward blocking her path.

“Well played,” she said coldly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Sex tape scandal. Wish I’d thought of that when I had the opportunity. So how’d you do it? Put your iPhone behind the kettle? Resting on the toaster?”

“You think I leaked my own sex tape?”

Alicia frowned. “But if you didn’t, then that must mean…Oh no!” She feigned shock. “He filmed you without your consent.” She tapped her chin in faux contemplation. “But why would he do that? Because he has a new film coming out?” She shook her head over dramatically. “The levels of depravity these actors will sink to for self-promotion. On one hand, you’ve got to give it to him. It was diabolical scheming on his part. He must have been thrilled when an unknown intern showed up to interview him. My name was already smeared thanks to the article I wrote. But you, you’re a journalist virgin. As pure as the cold driven snow.”

Sasha racked her brains. What was it that Thomas had said under his breath when he realized they’d sent the intern? That it was a miracle? Could that have been what he meant, that sending the intern had given him the opportunity to create a paper-selling, sensationalistic story?

But what about the beautiful moment they’d shared last night? They’d let so much of themselves out to one another. There’d been trust and true affection.

Alicia reached out and rubbed Sasha’s arm, feigning concern again. “Oh Sash, you didn’t think there was something special between you, did you? He didn’t pull his whole mommy and daddy burned to death routine?” She squeezed Sasha’s arm tightly. “You poor thing.”

Sasha wanted to throw up. How could an evening that ended in bliss have given way to such a horrible new day?

She pushed past Alicia and bolted for the door.

Out on the street, the cold air slapped her. She drank it in, letting it quell her panic. There was a billboard just outside her office. It was advertising Thomas’s new movie.

Sasha stared up at his face and realized this was going to haunt her forever.

Chapter Seven

Sasha woke the next morning on her sofa, feeling dazed. She had very little memory of getting back to her flat, but she did remember double locking all the doors and shutting all the curtains. And she remembered whiling away the rest of the evening curled up on the sofa, her whole body trembling as she sifted through the media reports and images. Then came the snowballing messages from friends and strangers alike; her phone constantly pinging and ringing as more and more people caught up with the news story and tried to get in touch. Suddenly, she had messages from people who hadn’t bothered speaking to her since the first year of college, all trying to get a piece of her.

The one that made her heart ache the most, though, was from her mother. It read simply:
I think you should come home.

One person had rung more than anyone. Thomas. Sasha couldn’t fathom why. What was there possibly left to talk about? Unless he was just going to use his smooth talking to make sure she didn’t press charges?

She didn’t know what to do. All she knew was that she hated him. Despised him. Because of him, her life had descended from ecstasy to a nightmare in less than twenty-four hours. She never wanted to hear the name Thomas Lloyd again.

Just then, she heard a knock.

She pulled herself to standing and opened the front door. When she saw who was standing there, she staggered back in surprise. It was Chris.

“Hi,” he said shyly.

“What are you doing here?” Sasha stammered.

He looked awkwardly at his feet. “I’m sure you can work it out, Sash.”

The tape. Of course
. Why else would Chris appear on her doorstep after so many months?

There was a blush rising up his neck.

So he’s watched it then,
Sasha thought. Aloud she said, “You’d better come in.”

As Chris entered the flat, she noticed he was carrying a suitcase.

“You planning on staying?”

“This isn’t for me,” Chris replied. “It’s for you. For your clothes. Your mom wants me to bring you home.”

Sasha’s heart ached. She directed Chris into the living room, and they sat together on the couch.

“You must think I’m such an idiot,” Sasha said, as he lowered himself beside her.

He shook his head and clasped her hands. “Not at all. He’s an actor. It’s his job to manipulate people. I just don’t understand how it happened.”

Sasha could read between the lines. What Chris was really saying was, ‘
How could Thomas Lloyd sleep with someone like you?
’ She didn’t understand it herself. Because she was gullible enough to fall for it? Because she was easy prey? Because every other woman he’d slept with hadn’t been dumb enough to get themselves caught on camera?

“I don’t know,” Sasha replied, mournfully.

“You understand that he abused you,” Chris said. “That sex tape is a crime.”

Sasha wasn’t in the mood for his condescension. “Yes. I know.”

“Will you press charges?”

“I don’t know.”

Chris squeezed her hands. “Sash. Please come back home. The journalism thing just wasn’t meant to be.”

Her chest ached, as she looked down at Chris’s hands. Things had been good with him, hadn’t they? They had definitely been simple. Easy. He’d adored her.

So when Chris moved his head towards her, she didn’t move away. His kiss was soft, tender, and familiar. She let him kiss her, her lips going through the motions, her body feeling nothing. He wasn’t Thomas. No one ever would be.

But he could make her happy in other ways.

When he pulled back, there was a dreamy look in his eyes. “Let me take you home, Sash.”

After a long pause, she nodded. Chris was right. Getting out of Chicago would be the best thing. She could go home to her mom’s and rest until the whole thing had blown over, if it ever could.

Chris breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ll go and pack for you.”

He squeezed her hand and left the living room.

Sasha sat on the sofa in something of a trance. She’d become the helpless damsel she was always so terrified to be. She had let Thomas use her, then let Chris come in and save the day. When had she become such a sap?

Suddenly, there was a commotion outside. She could hear people shouting. “Thomas! Thomas over here!”

Her stomach clenched. She stood and opened the curtains to be confronted with the sight of the paparazzi filing down her street in pursuit of Thomas. His beautiful face was contorted with anguish. As soon as the paps noticed her peering from the window, camera lights began flashing. She ducked back out of view, her heart racing.

What is he doing here?

She heard him knock at the door.

“Sasha,” he called. “We need to talk. Please.”

She went to the door and pressed her eye to the peep hole. The paps were going crazy, taking photo after photo of the scene like hungry vultures pecking at a carcass.

“Go away. You’re causing a scene. Or is that the point?”

Thomas looked crestfallen. “You think I want any of this?”

“I don’t know what to think, but I’m pretty sure you don’t hate it. In fact, I’d go as far as to say you thrive off it. You took that photo in the restaurant yourself, didn’t you?”

“No! Sasha, this is what the media is like. This is what they do. They take something and twist it and blow it all out of proportion. For all I know, Alicia could have planted that bloody fake camera last time she—”

“You took Alicia to your house?”

Thomas snapped his mouth shut.

“You said she didn’t mean anything to you,” Sasha stammered. “But you still took her to your house?”

“That isn’t the point. I didn’t do it. I didn’t trick you.”

“If it wasn’t you, then who was it? Your servant? Oh wait, you’re too fucking humble for one of them.”

“You have to believe me.”

“Why should I believe anything you say?

“Because there’s another video! Taken in the bedroom. You know I would never….”

The scars.
Thomas would never show the world his scars, never in a million years.

“Sasha, someone’s out to get us,” he added. “Someone’s doing this to drive us apart. I don’t know how it happened, but you have to believe me.”

Sasha pulled her phone out of her pocket. It took her less than a minute to find proof that what Thomas was saying was real. There was the second sex tape. Accompanying it were a thousand cruel articles about Thomas, calling him Quasimodo, The Elephant Man…

Sasha opened the door. Thomas tumbled in. Then she slammed it shut, blocking out the paparazzi.

Thomas swept her into his arms and pressed his mouth against hers.

“God I’ve missed you,” he said. “Please know I would never do anything to hurt you.”

Sasha’s breath was ragged. “But who did it? Who would do this to you?”

A sudden moment of recognition sparked in Thomas’s eyes. He looked at her and said simply, “Crystal.”

Sasha gasped. “Of course,” she said under her breath.

Crystal seemed to know her brother’s every whereabouts. If she’d found him in the hotel during his interviews was it so far-fetched to think she’d tipped off the media about his presence at the restaurant? Two hundred dollars for a photo, Thomas had said. Pretty tempting for a junky. And she must have been on her way in to get her secretly planted cameras when she’d bumped into her yesterday morning.

“Now do you believe me?” Thomas said exasperated. He took Sasha’s hands in his and squeezed them.

“Yes.”

Just then the stairs creaked. Chris had appeared on the landing, a suitcase in either hand. “Ready?” he said.

Thomas looked up. His face blanched. Sasha’s stomach plummeted to her feet, as the only two men she’d ever had sex with stood staring at her.