Page 106 of Modern Romance January 2025 5-8

“What happened?”

“He’s putting out everything about my sister. Everything. And my involvement in her death.”

She shook her head. “But you didn’t kill her. You weren’t responsible for her death.”

“I was,” he said. “Believe me, I was. And it is all being put out there in black and white, and anyone who reads it would think the same.”

“If you are responsible, then so is your father.”

“But it doesn’t matter to him. It doesn’t matter. It matters to me. That he would... This is sacred ground to me.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

She looked small, hurt. He imagined that what she was hoping for was better treatment the morning after she had her first sexual experience, but he couldn’t afford to think about that right now. He couldn’t afford to let it matter.

She had seen him make a mistake with Charmaine. And now this.

He growled, moving into his bedroom and beginning to dress as quickly as possible. She blinked, and he noticed that her eyes were full of tears.

“I don’t have anything to change into.”

“It doesn’t matter. If you’re seen leaving my house in the same thing that you wore inside, it only lends itself to the illusion.”

“Do you honestly think that it matters now?”

“I’m sure that it’s in the news somewhere. Buried beneath this.”

“Then I will make a show of standing beside you. Whatever you need.” She would make a show of it. Because of course it was a show. For a moment, last night, it had felt like perhaps she knew him. Much in the same way it felt like he might know her. It had felt like something different. Something real. Something that he had never experienced before. But it had been a game. All of this was a game. Every moment of every day that he had breathed since Seraphina had died had been a game, and forgetting that had been his first mistake. You could not escape your past. You couldn’t escape the darkness there.

She left, her clothes in her arms, and returned moments later, dressed in the same clothing from the night before. The color that had seemed so suitable to her last night seemed somewhat garish today. In the bright light of the morning, clearly announcing that he had debauched her, that he was using her.

That’s what he was doing. That’s what he had been doing to every woman that he had ever met since he had embarked on this.

How he had thought that he had escaped bad behavior simply because he was a good lover, because he considered himself respectful, he didn’t know.

It was all a game.

He might not have chosen to play it. He was.

And in the end, when the headlines were released, the truth was he was no different than his father.

He was a man who had his own way of doing things and did it regardless of the impact on others. A man who behaved in supremely selfish ways, and treated those around him as if they were pawns in a game, rather than human beings.

But this was not even the time for self-pity. Because this was a mess of his own making, and he would do what needed doing to clean it up. Because it wasn’t only what had been written about him, but what was being written about Seraphina. The way that it seemed to indicate that he didn’t care about her. “We need to get down to my office.”

“All right,” she said.

“I suppose you want to call your friends.”

“It can wait.”

They headed down the street, and this time, when he called for a car, he did not ask for a driver. But as his car was brought into place for him by the valet, he noticed that there were paparazzi. Everywhere. Lining the streets, their black SUVs a telltale sign.

“Quickly,” he said.

They got behind the wheel and he began to drive, maneuvering out of the city.

“Where are you taking us?” she asked as they crossed the first bridge.