First I need to confirm that she’s interested in taking it further than a simple affair while we’re out of town.
When I finally make it back to the hotel, I know she’s already there since she texted me about an hour ago. I’m eager, ready to tell her my grand ideas about our personal and business future together, planned when I should’ve been listening to the state of the future of winemaking.
Ah well, f**k it. I’d rather think about Bryn.
But the moment I enter my hotel room I can sense the mood has changed. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed—I gave her a key before we left earlier—her head bent as she scans through something on her phone. Her shoulders are slumped, her hair falling forward and shielding her face. There’s something wrong.
I can feel it in the air.
“Hey.” I say, letting the door shut softly behind me. “You all right?”
She lifts her head, her watery gaze meeting mine, and my heart lurches in my chest. She’s been crying. Why? Over me?
God, I hope not.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as I rush toward her, and she holds out her phone, averting her head so she doesn’t have to look at me.
“Read this,” she says, her voice rough with unshed tears.
I take the phone from her, see that she’s brought up an article from a prominent gossip site. There’s a hazy photo of Bryn and me at the window, her skirt bunched around her waist, white panties on brief display. You’d have to be an idiot not to realize what we’re doing. I’m standing behind her, my hands resting on her hips.
The headline alone makes my heart drop into my toes:
Former Baseball Player Matt DeLuca Rounds the Bases With His Secretary!
“Shit,” I say aloud as I sit heavily on the edge of the mattress right next to her, skimming the article. It goes on about Bryn and me, how she’s worked for me since I took over the winery, and we’ve been having a heated affair for months. The unidentified source talks about our supposed affair and how it will be the eventual demise of my new business venture if I don’t watch it.
The final nail in the coffin? The source goes on to say I’m just like my father, who’s been embroiled with one scandal after another ever since the beginning of his career with the Oakland A’s:
“Like father, like son, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Though at least the dad always seems to land on his feet. We’ll see if his son can do the same.”
“Who the f**k could’ve done this?” I ask grimly, thrusting the phone back toward her. I have my suspicions. I just don’t want to say them out loud yet. “We need to figure out who’s behind every word of this stupid, deceitful article.”
Her head is still bent, like she can’t stand to look at me. “It’s not lies. It’s the truth.”
“It wasn’t the truth until last night and that doesn’t count,” I tell her as I pull out my own phone to find a few text messages from Archer and Gage, both of them asking what the hell is going on with the article being blasted all over the place.
Oh and I have a voicemail from my father. Interesting.
I refuse to listen to it. Not now, in front of Bryn. I need to keep my emotions under control before I lose it completely.
I think he might have had a hand in this. The tone of the entire article makes me think he’s behind it. That the article actually mentioned my father multiple times when he hasn’t been in the spotlight in years makes me suspect him.
“Doesn’t count?” She lifts her head, her angry eyes meeting mine. “Are you saying what happened between us last night doesn’t count?”
“No. Of course not.” I slowly shake my head, amazed at all the emotion I see blazing in her gaze. “I think—shit, I think my dad could be behind this. God knows when he could’ve tried to first sell this article, probably right after the opening, when you so kindly pushed him out and sent him on his merry way.”
“I didn’t kindly push him out,” she admits. “He said horrible things and basically accused me of being a slut and sleeping with his son. Oh, and when I grew sick of you, he said I could come and have sex with him any time I wanted. You know, because the two of you are so similar and all.” She lets out an angry little sound that’s a cross between a growl and a squeal. “The man is a pig.”
Fuck. Tell me all about it. The worst part? He’s my father. And supposedly I’m just like him.
“He said that to you?” I ask weakly, wincing when she stands to glare down at me, her expression one of pure fury.
“Yes! He made me feel like the cheap hussy everyone else seems to think I am. And look, we proved him right by having sex.” She throws her arms up in the air. “I’m exactly what everybody says I am. A stupid whore who sleeps her way around, who just falls into bed with her boss because she’s too dumb to know better.”
I stand, grabbing hold of her shoulders and giving her a little shake. “No. Stop calling yourself such horrible names. You’re nothing like that. We’ve been fighting this and trying to do the right thing for months, Bryn. Months. You didn’t just fall into bed with your boss because you’re too dumb to know better. I hope you came into my bed because you care for me as much as I care for you.”
Bryn
I STARE INTO Matt’s eyes, shocked by his words, by his easy defense of me. I . . . I don’t know what to say. I’m overwhelmed, upset, embarrassed. At least my name isn’t in the article though, it doesn’t need to be. There’s the photo as proof it’s me. Everyone at the winery will see the article and the picture, and I’ll become a mockery. People in the community will hear the rumors and know I’m the one who’s supposedly having a torrid affair with my boss.
It’s the type of humiliation I’ve been trying to run from since Brian Fairbanks chased me around his office. I’d kept myself above it all, all these years. Running just ahead so that it never touched me.
But look at me now, neck deep in a huge scandal, and I have no one to blame but myself.
“Say something.” Matt gives me another little shake, rattling me out of my thoughts. “I need to know if you’re as invested in this as I am.”
“Invested in what?” I ask, feeling like I’m in a daze.
“Invested in us,” he says, his mouth grim, his eyes dark, fathomless. “Tell me. I need to hear you say it.”
“I-I don’t know how I feel, Matt,” I say truthfully, horrified when I see the devastation cross his face.