Chapter Twenty-Two
VANESSA
CHEV PULLS UP to the back door of the facility, and I debate asking him to take me home as I stare up at the building.
I’m sure everybody inside knows about Chev and me, and they’ve probably seen the interview, too. Thanks to Chev destroying my phone, I don’t know what people online are saying about me, but I can make guesses.
They aren’t going to be happy.
I’m terrified.
“Are you okay?” Chev asks, no doubt sensing my worry. “Do you want me to take you home? I can call Aziel and Echo and tell them you aren’t feeling well.”
I shake my head, silently rejecting the idea. As much as I’d love to do precisely that, it’s not the right decision. I refuse to hide away in shame over my mate bond. It’s an action I’ll live to regret, and I know it would upset Chev. He’s outwardly proud to be my mate, and while I don’t need to go screaming my excitement from the rooftops, I don’t need to cower, either.
“I’m fine,” I lie.
I turn and wrap my arms around Chev, pulling him in for a hug. I wonder how many women are watching us from the windows, and I fight the urge to look as I pull away. Chev tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingertips just barely grazing against my skin.
I don’t want to leave him.
“Would you like to come over for dinner?” I ask. I’ve been enjoying his company, and I’m growing to trust him. He won’t do anything to me. “Just me and you.”
Chev visibly straightens up, seemingly excited about the reminder that he doesn’t need to bring a chaperone. He hasn’t made a fuss about my requirement, but I’m sure he doesn’t love it. My lips twitch as a smile flickers across his face.
“I’d love to,” Chev says. He brushes his knuckles down my cheek. “It’s about time you asked me on a date. I’ll wear my finest leathers.”
He’s trying to lighten the mood, and it works. Despite my pounding heart and racing thoughts, I laugh. It’s genuine, too, which I didn’t think would be possible today. Seconds pass before I pull away from Chev and climb out of the golf cart. I’m already teetering on the edge of being late, and I can’t avoid going inside any longer.
I smooth my hands down my plain work dress before heading inside. Only two guards are standing near the back entrance, and they offer me their usual friendly smiles as I approach.
“Morning,” the one on the left says.
He pulls open the door for me, and I hurry through. I look over my shoulder one final time, locking eyes with Chev before the doors close. He hasn’t moved, and he wears a worried expression as he watches me walk into work. It’s not a good sign.
I head immediately to my office.
He may have broken my phone, but I have a computer. I need to know what people are saying about me, and I find myself holding my breath as I lock my office door and sit at my desk. I mentally prepare for the worst as I start my computer and navigate to the most popular news channels.
What I see shocks me.
There’s definitely hatred, but it’s not spewed toward me. It’s spewed toward Chev. People are picking apart his interview, specifically the part where he shares the start of our relationship. He discusses in detail how he showed himself to me and locked me in my office, and he even took things a step further and detailed how he followed me to Wrath and stalked me.
He painted himself in the worst light possible, and people have latched on to it.
Tears fill my eyes and stream down my cheeks as I read, and I’m horrified by the cruel words. Chev must have known this would happen. He’s not foolish. Even I saw how he painted himself during his interview, but I never anticipated it would cause this much backlash.
He ruined his reputation to spare mine.
I find a few articles from yesterday, ones where I’m painted as a disappointment, but they’re far and few between. I doubt people like me any more now than they did yesterday, but they hate Chev more.
I navigate to the smaller, Chev-centered online forums next. The women who write here think Chev can do no wrong, and I’m relieved to see they haven’t changed. They still hate me and worship Chev.
I never thought I’d be so relieved to read such horrible things about myself. The women speak all my worst fears and insecurities into existence. They say I’m too weak and damaged to ever truly make Chev happy. They accurately guess that we don’t have sex and never will, and they hypothesize how long it will take him to grow sick of me and leave.
Chev has always been vocal about his excitement to find his mate, and he’s spoken occasionally about how much he’s looking forward to having children and sharing a bed with another. He never said anything explicitly about sex, but it was implied. Chev’s always been a horny male, and he’s not very good at hiding it.
One woman in the community made a video montage of Chev saying these things. I can only stomach about half of it before slamming my computer shut.
Chev will have his children. We won’t have sex, but I can give him his family. We aren’t ready for kids now, but I’ll be happy to do it when we are. He’ll be an amazing father, and I have to trust that will be enough for him.
I have to trust. I have no other options.