K. Bromberg - Aced

Trust me , his eyes beg.

Trust him , my reason tells me.

“Let’s see what Kelly finds out . . . then I’ll trust your judgment on what you think we should do from there, but I’ve got to tell you that doing nothing doesn’t sit well with me.”

He nods his head and leans in, brushing a soft kiss to my lips. When he steps back, his eyes are serious and intense. “I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

I close my eyes and lean my forehead against his.

Every knight has a weak link in their armor.

I fear I just might be his.

“THE BABY’S GROWTH IS ON par. The heartbeat is strong and within normal range . . . but I’m a little concerned about your blood pressure, Rylee,” Dr. Steele says, as she looks back down at the chart in her hand.

“I know. It’s just . . . we had something unexpected happen last night and it’s still kind of crazy and . . .” I stop and blow a breath out, trying to calm myself yet again and not worry about what Colton says he’ll take care of, but know is futile. I can’t rid my mind of the grainy images or the fear that this is all going to spiral out of control. “Sorry.” I shake my head to blink away the threatening tears.

“It’s okay. Sometimes things can be a bit overwhelming with your first baby coming. A lot of women get stressed over feeling their life is going to change so drastically and they can no longer do it all.” She reaches out and squeezes my forearm. “I’m inclined to put you on modified bed rest at this point.”

“No!” The word falls out in a shocked gasp, my eyes flying up to meet the concern in hers as my blood pressure starts to elevate again.

“Don’t think I don’t know that’s why Colton hasn’t been coming in. We both know he wants you off your feet, and you fear if he hears me suggest it, he’ll pressure you.” The stern warning in her voice is unmistakable. And there’s no use denying it, so I just nod my head and worry my hands together. “I’ll trust you’ll use good judgment or I’ll be forced to put you on bed rest for the remainder of your pregnancy. The longer the baby is in utero, the better all around for him or her. Delivering early because of preeclampsia isn’t an option I want. Try to make Colton deal with whatever situation came up last night so you’re not involved and your blood pressure can stay on an even keel.”

“I will,” I say, knowing I can’t. Her intelligent eyes assess the truthfulness of my statement. She nods her head. I guess I was believable.

“Okay. We’ll see you in two weeks then. Take care,” she says as she pats me on the shoulder before walking out of the examination room.

My drive home is consumed by unwanted thoughts of last night, when I shouldn’t be thinking about it. Doctor’s orders. But the images of Colton and me in the garage keep coming back to mind. The real ones. The ones I remember. Not the cheapened black and white version, which seems so classless, but the ones that will forever be etched in my subconscious because they meant so very much to me. I blow out a breath, still not believing how a night that was the spark of so many good things for us has now come back in such a malevolent way.

Driving onto Broadbeach Road, I’m so preoccupied with what I’m going to tell Colton about the doctor’s visit that when I turn the bend in the street leading to our driveway, I’m shocked to see the melee; the road clogged with paparazzi. As I pull closer I notice two of the big dogs—Laine Cartwright, Denton Massey—and I immediately know something is going on. Through closed windows I hear words like “video” and statements of “how does it feel?” The baseless hope I had that it was something completely different than the video vanishes instantly.

The assholes released the tape.

My first thought is that Colton told them to fuck off and die without telling me. My next thought is he wouldn’t do that without telling me. He promised he’d see what Kelly learned before making any decisions.

My heart drops as I do my best to keep my head down while I drive through the gates. Memories flood back to the last time the entrance to our house looked like this. Tawny had been involved that time so doesn’t it fit that she’d be involved this time too? But at the same time, it’s been six years. Why now? Why this? What’s the damn purpose behind it?

Nothing makes sense and the simple fact is driving me crazy.

My hands are shaking by the time I put the Range Rover in park. And as much as I want to bolt out of the car and find out what the hell is going on, I’ve learned to wait until the gates close at my back before I open the door so the vultures can’t get a shot they can sell. Once they do and I’m protected from sight, Sammy is already at my door opening it.

“Sammy?”

“Rylee,” he says with a nod of his head and an aversion of his eyes, ignoring my questioning look. My feet falter on the short distance to the front door when it hits me. If the video has been released, Sammy knows who is on that tape. He arranged the car to be where it was that night. He’s seen me naked. And having sex.

Oh fuck.

And when I stop, he stops, only ratcheting up my embarrassment. When he places his hand softly on my lower back to help usher me to the door, I realize just how bad the situation is. He’s shielding my body just in case someone has managed to get me in their long-range lens.

This time I’m glad when he opens the front door for me and then steps outside because I can’t look him in the eyes. I’m mortified with embarrassment but at least he’ll be the only person who will know. I drop my purse on the table and go in search of Colton.

He’s not in the office or kitchen, and I’m surprised when I find him upstairs on the upper patio, elbows resting on his knees, glass of amber liquid in one hand, phone to his ear with the other, and his head hung down in concentration.

“We were obviously played, CJ. Fucking full-court press without a goddamn ball.” The resignation in his voice causes the hair on my arms to stand on end because why does he sound so defeated when he figured this was going to happen in the first place? That the asshole was going to release the tape anyway? “I know, but . . . fuck this is a clusterfuck. I didn’t see this coming. Not from a million miles away.” He pauses as CJ says whatever he’s saying. “There is no controlling it. Don’t you get that?” he shouts. By the shake of his head, he obviously disagrees with what is being said. “This conversation is done before I say something I’m going to regret and that you don’t deserve.”

He drops the phone on the chair next to him and without even looking up, downs the rest of the alcohol, meeting my eyes in a fleeting glance before concentrating back on the glass he’s just emptied. “I’m assuming you didn’t get my zillion texts?” he asks, irritated and agitated.

“I was at the doctor.” Oh shit. I was so stressed about how I was going to relay Dr. Steele’s warning to Colton, I completely forgot to turn my ringer back on . “Sorry,” I say, cautiously stepping onto the patio. “What’s going on, Colton?” I ask, although by his conversation with CJ, I already know.

He scrubs a hand over his face and when I get a little closer to him. Something about his movements tells me he’s a little buzzed. And I hate that he can’t look me in the eye.

“The fuckers released the video,” he says, words mirroring the thoughts I had when I saw paparazzi outside. The grimace on his face only serves to heighten my sense of dread.