Chapter 35
Ashlyn
“What the hell is this?” he asks again, but I’m too busy blinking my eyes to make sure what I am looking at is real.
It’s a string of maybe twenty photos of just him. Pictures of him getting dressed and getting in and out of the shower. While they don’t fully show everything, they show a lot more than he’d want. Especially considering that he didn’t know they were being taken. The thing is, I didn’t know either.
“I don’t understand,” I say.
“I thought you told your boss no,” he snaps. “I thought you said you’d never go along with it.”
“I didn’t go along with it,” I say.
“Then where did these photos come from?” he asks, shoving up from the table and pacing the floor. “Because they were obviously taken by someone close to the house. Or inside the house…”
Suddenly, what he’s suggesting hits me like a brick. “Wait. You think I took these photos?” I ask.
“I mean, I don’t know who else it could have been,” he says, and my jaw unhinges.
“You’re kidding, right? You have paparazzi trying to breach the fences around your property left and right. You don’t think there is any chance these photos could have been taken by one of them?” I ask.
He snatches the phone and scrolls some more. Then he shoves it back in my direction, and I gasp.
“Something like that could only have been taken by someone inside the house,” he says, and I stare at the photo in horror. “And they were posted by Sigma, Ashlyn. What else am I supposed to believe?”
It’s me and him in bed. He’s on top of me and we are both naked. It’s obvious what we are in the middle of, but the angle of his body and the blankets hide everything private. Though not by much.
“Oh my god,” I say, with tears forming in my eyes.
“Look at that, Ashlyn. You’re a photographer. Look at the resolution. That was not taken from a window, no matter how good the camera was.”
He’s not wrong, but he is wrong about his accusation. “Zane, I did not take these photos. How could I have? I am in some of these too.”
“Hidden cameras are a thing,” he says, and I just stare at him in disbelief.
“You can’t be serious right now,” I tell him. “I would never.”
Zane takes a step closer. “Then who was it? If it wasn’t you, who was it?”
“I don’t know. Does anyone else have access to your house?”
“No,” he says flatly.
“No one? Not a maid or delivery people or a pool guy or–”
“Do you see a maid around here?” he snaps. “Or pool boys or–”
“Okay, okay,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. Then it clicks. “What about the girl I saw?”
“What girl?” he mutters.
“The other night. When I told you I saw someone outside,” I answer.
“The one you thought you saw on the balcony?” he asks.
“Not thought,” I correct him. “I did see someone. There was someone there. On the balcony and in Bentley’s window and–”
“Stop,” he cuts me off with a tone sharper than anything I’ve ever heard from him before. “No one was on the balcony. And even if they were, they still couldn’t have gotten photos like this.”
I bite my lip and nod as hurt burrows a hole in my stomach. “So that’s it then? You don’t believe me.”
“Look at these photos,” he says, setting his phone on the table. “Look at these photos and tell me what you would believe if it was you.”
My chin quivers, and I nod again. Not because he’s right. He’s not. But because I can’t prove it. And it’s very clear that he already believes what he believes. I’m not going to be able to change his mind.
“I think you should leave,” he says, and I look back up at him.
“What?”
“I think you should leave,” he echos. “I need time to think. To process all of this. I also have a lot of damage control to do as well.”
“Where am I supposed to go?” I ask.
But before he can answer, not that I am sure he was going to, his phone rings. He turns away and takes the call; his manager’s shouts audible even though it’s not on speakerphone.
So I leave.
* * *
“He thinks you’re lying to him?” Demi asks as we sit on her couch, facing each other. Bentley is asleep in her room, so we keep our voices down, or try to anyway.
“I mean, I don’t know what else he’s supposed to believe,” I sniff into my glass that I can’t bring myself to drink because I feel like my stomach is full of battery acid.
“You,” Demi snaps. “He’s supposed to believe you.”
“Yeah, well, he doesn’t,” I say.
“I don’t get it. Someone took those photos. It had to be someone who knew what they were doing. Or at least someone with a really good camera,” she says.
“It also had to be someone in the house,” I add.
“Yeah…that bed photo was…” she lets out a low whistle and I nod, taking a sip of my beer.
“Yeah. I know,” I say. “What I don’t understand is who could have taken the photos. And why? They were taken by someone at Sigma. That much we know.”
“Wait,” she says. “Don’t your co-workers at Sigma run edits on everything before it’s published?”
“Alice and Troy. Yes. I called them as soon as I left Zane’s. They both say they never saw the photos before they went viral.”
“It’s just creepy,” she says. “Because if he is right, if they were taken from inside the house, that means someone has been sneaking around. Watching you.” Demi shudders, and I all but come undone. Because as much as I’m freaked out for my own sake, it’s not even me that my brain goes to first.
“Bentley is in the house,” I tell her. “Someone has been close enough to Bentley that they could have hurt him. They could have taken him and I just…I…”
My words break apart as I start to cry, and Demi pulls me into her.
“I know. Shh. It’s okay, I know. But Bentley is safe.
He’s here, and he’s safe. And nothing is going to happen to him.
You would never let anything happen to him,” she says, and I pull away from her, tears still running down my face and from my nose.
“But that’s the thing. Zane told me to leave. If I’m not there, how can I protect Bentley?” I sob, and Demi starts to cry too.