Page 22 of Her Werewolf Lover

“Ha ha. So, uh, you didn’t see the house before you moved in?”

“Only photos of the outside. Very clever of my ex. I’ll give him that.”

“Very deceptive, you mean. He should be the one paying for this whole renovation.”

“No thanks. That would mean having to speak to him, and I would rather not.”

“I hear you on that. By the way, I have a contact who deals in second-hand furniture. He might want to take some of those pieces you don’t want off your hands. Believe it or not, people collect that kind of stuff,” Michael said.

“That would be great, thanks. He can have everything, really. I don’t want any of it,”she said, and Michael could believe that.

The web browser still open on Michael’s computer pinged, and he heard a similar noise coming from Samantha’s side of the phone.

“Texting the number now,” he murmured, sharing the contact.

“Thanks, I’ll email him right away. Oh, shit,”she whispered.

“What is it?” Michael asked.

But he already knew. His eyes widened in surprise as he registered the photo he was looking at. It was her.

His Sunshine.

And her image was plastered across his screen in all her glory with strategically placed black bars barely covering her nudity flashing across his screen.

“That sonovabitch. You’re seeing this, right? I heard your computer. It just hit all the damn tabloids. Goddamnit, Gary!”

“Sam—”

“That photo was taken by an artist, not a lover. It was for a charity calendar! And he’s leaked it for everyone to see,”she said, sounding equal parts shocked and angry.

Michael could feel her anger as palpable as his own. And his was tremendous. Fuck her ex for being such a sleaze.

The headline on his internet feed was fromHollywood Hotline News. It saidProof the Former Plus Sized June Girl Had Extramarital Affairsin bold letters.

But that wasn’t what Michael was searching for,there, he found it. The name of the so-called journalist.

Michael growled.

The bastard was going to be lucky to be alive tomorrow. As of right now, Michael was busy using his connections and money to get that article shut down.

Being rich had its perks. Getting that fucking hack reporter to print an immediate retraction was one of them. He already had his best guys on it.

He’d roused David Marquez, his executive assistant, from his bed to see to this. It was fine. The man made plenty of money and his loyalty was unmatched.

“Samantha, look, I am so sorry. Now, I don’t want you to worry about this,” he said.

“Goddamn it. He just can’t leave me alone, can he?”she whispered, and the sound of her sorrow had him growling louder.

“Do you have a dog?”

“What? Um, yeah, sorry,” Michael replied and cleared his throat.

“Look, Sam, are you okay?”

“What? Yeah. I, uh, didn’t take you for a Hollywood Hotline kind of guy,”she said and tried to laugh, but it came out sad instead.

“Sorry, my daughter is very,veryinterested in celebrity gossip magazines. She uses my computer all the time. And really, I can’t imagine how you feel. It must be pretty awful having your deepest darkest secrets revealed to the press. Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” he said and felt like kicking himself for that stupid comment.