“I didn’t sleep with Joe,” I said. “I’ve never kissed him or thought of him sexually, and I have no desire to in the future.”
He smiled, a smug, knowing smile that did wicked things to my insides. “Good.” Then, without any trace of humor he said, “Because otherwise I’d kill him.”
Without waiting for a response, he spun on his heels and disappeared behind his door, leaving me with a racing heart and the shuddering certainty that he’d meant what he said.
CHAPTER 6
I woke to banging on my bedroom door.
With one lid still shut, I checked the bedside clock. It was just after nine. The banging began again.
“Just a minute,” I groaned. After giving myself ten seconds to blink the sleep out of my eyes, I threw the covers off and stumbled out of bed.
I cracked the door open and found Joe on the other side.
“I need to talk to you,” he said, his tone tense. “Can I come in?”
I was still wearing only a T-shirt, and, though I would have been comfortable in less in front of most anyone, I thought of Reeve and knew he wouldn’t approve. “Uh, give me five.”
Four minutes later, I’d donned a fresh shirt and leggings and had brushed both my teeth and hair. I opened the door, and Joe took a step as if to come in.
“It would be better out there.” I gestured to the hall. Reeve’s door was open, I noticed, which meant he was awake and likely wouldn’t ever know if Joe and I talked in my room.
But the security cameras. But the perception.
I’d learned not to make the same mistakes twice.
Joe’s expression said he would have preferred privacy, but he didn’t argue. “Something is going around the Internet today that I think you need to see.”
“Okay. What is it?”
He looked at the phone he clutched to his chest as if he had the article or post or tweet – whatever it was – loaded to show.
Before he handed it to me, though, he paused. “I need to preface. A week or so ago, Chris Blakely was blasting social media with insinuations that Reeve might have been involved with the mafia and possibly got off with murdering Missy Mataya. I’m not sure if you were aware.”
I grimaced. “I’m aware.”
“If any of his accusations are anywhere close to truth, he could get himself in big trouble with the likes of Vilanakis.”
“Right. But you know what? He’s on his own with that. I told him to keep his trap shut, and he couldn’t. Too bad for him.”
“Also, too bad for you.” He unlocked his phone and handed it to me. “Because now you’re involved too.”
With my brows pinched, I grabbed the cell from Joe’s hand and studied the screen. The picture at the top of the page was of Chris and me at an award show we’d both attended in January. The photographer had caught me midlaughter, which somehow made the photo look intimate even though we weren’t even standing close enough to touch. I remembered the night well. He’d been waiting for his fiancée to return from the bathroom, and, in between flirting with me, he’d told me about his connection with Missy.
The image was innocuous, but the headline that accompanied it was concerning. Busted: Chris Blakely and NextGen Voice Star’s Torrid Affair!
“What the fuck?”
I scanned through the rather uninformative article that claimed Chris and I had been seeing each other on the sly. Rumors about Hollywood figures were common enough, and I was just about ready to dismiss the whole thing when my eyes landed on the final image of the post – a blurry photo that showed the two of us in an embrace outside his apartment. That picture had been taken only a couple of weeks prior. It was from the day that I’d seen him for information about Reeve and Missy. The day that Reeve had shown up at my house upset about the perception I was giving the public by being alone with Chris when I was in a relationship with him.
Suddenly I had a headache.
“Where did they even get this picture?” It wasn’t something that I thought Joe could answer. “And why is it only showing up now?”
He shrugged. “But if Vilanakis is connected to Missy’s death in any way,” Joe said, “and if he knows you’re connected to Reeve, well, he might finger you as the leak to Chris because of this.”
Reeve had assured me that he’d had nothing to do with Missy’s tragic end, but he’d never said anything that had cleared his family of responsibility. And if Joe was right – if Vilanakis had caused her death – this certainly did put a bad light on me.
More urgently, if Reeve believed the article’s claims, then that could mean trouble for both Chris and me.
I had to set the record straight. “Has Reeve seen this?”
“Not sure. But it’s all over the gossip sites. Twitter’s having a field day with it.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“His office, I believe.”
I handed his phone over, already in motion. Joe followed on my heels, as I bolted down the stairs and to Reeve’s office. The doors were closed when we got there, but I burst in without bothering to knock.
“It’s not true,” I said, without any preamble. If Joe had already found the article, I was certain Reeve had as well. The only mystery was why he hadn’t come to see me about it yet.
Reeve was sitting behind his desk, and he glanced up at our arrival before turning his attention back to his computer. “Good morning, Emily. Joe. Come right on in.” His tone was laced with annoyance that seemed more to do with our abrupt entrance than anything else.