Chapter 29
SYDNEY
My first reaction is to call Scarlett’s bluff.
Fuck her and fuck her obsession with Cy. Fuck these pictures.
If she thinks they bother me, she couldn’t be more wrong. Send them to the tabloids. I didn’t give a shit.
But then I imagine my dad’s face when he sees them. What would he say? What about Leigh and Jessie? They wouldn’t judge me.
Cole would say my impulsivity bit me in the ass again.
Sawyer wouldn’t say anything at all. But his reaction would be the most impactful.
He hired me despite my lack of college degree. He gave me autonomy. He trusted me.
And this is how I repay that?
While this may narrow down the possible suspects—now that Kendall is gone, I’ve crossed her off the list—but I’ve made it worse.
I really, really don’t want to call Sawyer.
Will he fire me for this?
He hasn’t yet.
But this kind of gaff is on an entirely different level as punching a misogynistic actor who touched me without my permission.
“What do I do?”
Tell Cy?
What could he do?
Again, I need help.
For maybe the first time in my life, I realize I can’t solve a problem on my own.
I consider that growth on my part.
So I’ll reach out to the one man I think can help.
Sawyer.
After tossing on my pajamas, I sit on the edge of the bed and dial his number.
He answers on the second ring.
“What’s wrong?” he asks by way of answering.
“How do you know something’s wrong?” I try to keep my tone light, like I’m joking, but the nerves in my stomach roil, making my voice waver.
“One, you never call me this early. Two, I woke up this morning with a gut feeling.”
“I didn’t wake Evie, did I?” I ask, just now realizing that he’s two hours behind me.
Fuck.
“No. She’s sleeping like the dead right now. I don’t think anything could wake her up,” he says.
Evie spent five years on the run from her abusive ex-label rep.
Even though it’s been four years since he was caught, Sawyer often complains that she sleeps on the edge of being awake most nights.
Evie is one of my favorite people. She’s a fucking badass who survived a terrible situation and is now finding success as a singer.
“Is she okay?” I ask.
“You could say that. Cole knows, and I planned to share the news with you when this case was over, but you might as well know now. Evie’s pregnant.” There’s a joy in his voice that only exists when he talks about his wife.
A wave of excitement washes over me. “Oh my God, Sawyer, that’s awesome. Congratulations,” I say, momentarily forgetting my own issues.
If only it were that easy.
“Thank you. But you’re not calling me for that. What’s wrong?”
“I think I’m in trouble,” I say the words slowly, as if magically, that trouble will vanish by the time I’ve gotten this all out.
“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on, and I’ll see whether I agree?”
Fuck. Here goes nothing.
I swallow past the lump in my throat, my hands suddenly trembling. “You remember how Cy and I got stranded at the cabin?”
“Yes. When you sprained your ankle.”
“Right. Well, something else happened.”
Usually I don’t have an issue talking about sex. It’s a completely natural—and wonderful—activity. But it’s a whole lot fucking harder when I have to tell my boss I slept with a client.
“Sydney, quit talking around the issue and spit it out.”
“I had sex. We had sex.”
The words hang between us for several heartbeats.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
He clears his throat.
Fuck. I’m sweating now, my armpits damp, my hands clammy. Here it comes.
“Was it consensual?” he asks.
A breath whooshes out of me. Oh. I wasn’t expecting that question. Consensual is so tame a description for one of the best nights of my life.
“Hell yes.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
“Jesus Christ,” he groans.
That eases my nerves a little. I can almost picture him pinching the bridge of his nose. He knows that I have zero filter.
I’d apologize, but I’m not sorry.
He sighs. “So why do you think you’re in trouble?”
“I woke up this morning to an envelope under my door. From Scarlett.”
I don’t tell him about last night. Or any other night that Cy has slept in my bed.
“What was in it?”
“Pictures of me with Cy from that night. Not pictures, really. More like freeze-frames from a video camera. Or several, honestly, based on the angles. There’s also a note that tells me if I don’t leave the show within forty-eight hours, she’s going to send the images to the tabloids.”
“Can you send me pictures?”
I cringe, my stomach nearly plummeting out of my ass. “Of everything?”
Please say no. Please say no.
“Er, no.”
Thank fuck.
“Although there might be fingerprints.” He clears his throat. “So far, she hasn’t left any, but, uh…we never know when she’ll slip up.”
I don’t think I’ve ever heard him this flustered. That alone eases my anxiety.
The unflappable Sawyer suddenly flappable.
Who knew?
“Just send a picture of the note. It’s not written on the pictures, is it?”
When I say no, I’m not sure who’s more relieved.
I take a quick picture of the note, then text it to him so he can inspect it while we’re still on the phone. The only sound on his end is his steady breathing.
The longer he’s silent, the more that panic seeps back in. Say something.
“She was responsible for running you down?” he asks.
“Huh?” Frowning, I read the note again. But I still don’t fully grasp what he’s asking.
“She mentions a four-wheeler. That she tried to hit you intentionally.”
I reread the note, and this time, anger takes over every other emotion churning inside me. “Son of a bitch. She tried to hit me with the four-wheeler.”
It’s one thing to blackmail me. But trying to hit me with a vehicle? Is she fucking kidding me?
“Do you think Scarlett set up the cabin for you and Cy? Were you near the cabin when you were almost run over?”
Honestly, I was cold and in pain, and I lost track of time and distance as Cy carried me.
“Maybe? Do you think she wanted to get Cy by himself?”
The cabin was set up for a romantic interlude—lit candles, the roaring fire, the snacks, even the condoms. Yet no one ever returned. One by one, the pieces click into place.
“It’s worth looking into,” he says.
“But the cameras? Was she hoping to get images of the two of them together?” I ask.
My stomach rolls at the idea. Fuck no.
I’m gonna have to beat the taste out of her mouth for planning something like that with my man.
But he’s not yours.
The jealousy raging inside me doesn’t fucking care.
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” he says.
“So who is she? Clearly it’s not one of the women he sent home. Kendall wouldn’t have been able to get into Cy’s parents’ house to slide an envelope under my door, and she’s the only one who’s said anything even remotely threatening to me or him.”
“Could she have given it to someone else to slide under the door?” he asks.
“Who? The camera crew is here. Production too, but they’re at the bunkhouse. It’s only Josie, Jade, and me in the house. Cy and his parents and his grandpa are also here. Has Cole found anything more on Jade’s time at Soundview?”
That has been our best lead so far. And could her reason for being there also inspire her to create an obsession for Cy?
I sigh. That doesn’t sit right. Jade doesn’t strike me as Scarlett.
“No. He left yesterday. He’s visiting the facility in person since he was getting stonewalled over the phone. Looks like they switched database systems last year and archived records that likely included Jade’s.”
I want to scream at our luck, but I swallow the urge. “What am I supposed to do, Sawyer? Do I leave? I don’t think there’s a physical threat to Cy. Not from her.”
Everything inside me is screaming for me to stay.
But what other choice do you have?
“I don’t know if that’s true anymore. She reacted violently toward you by nearly running you down. We can no longer say with any degree of certainty that she won’t hurt Cy. Her stability—whatever tether was keeping her in check—is crumbling.”
Dammit. The last thing I want is Cy hurt.
Wouldn’t he be hurt if these pictures made it to the tabloids?
Would they? He’s used to being called a playboy.
But he’s never been exposed with pictures like these.
At least not that I know of.
“I don’t know what to do,” I say, more confused than when I called.
“Don’t do anything just yet. Give me some time to get a hold of Cole. I also want to follow up with the ski lodge.”
“Ski lodge. Why?”
“If Scarlett set up the cabin for her and Cy, she had to have rented it from the lodge. I want to check with them. Find out whether they can tell me who booked the place.”
Oh. Why didn’t I think of that?
Probably because every time Cy is near you, your brain stops working and your body starts craving.
“Do you really think you can find something before Scarlett’s deadline?”
“I’m going to try.”
We’re silent for several beats as I consider my next question. Do I really want to know the answer? No. But I think I need it.
I lick my lips and sit straighter. “Can I ask you something?”
“Absolutely,” he says.
“Are you upset that I slept with a client?” I ask, bracing myself for a terse or even angry response.
How much hot water have I landed myself in? Have I ruined my chance to get what I want at SAFE Haven?
“That would be pretty hypocritical of me, wouldn’t it?” he asks.
I sigh and close my eyes, some of the tension flowing out of me.
Because he and Evie fell for each other when he was protecting her. Hell, even Cole and Hannah Grace got back together when he was working to find her stalker.
Even so, it feels good knowing that he doesn’t judge me. That I haven’t disappointed him again. Relief is a cool breeze blowing through the hell I’ve been living in.
“Is there something wrong with us? We all seem to have trouble keeping our personal and professional lives separated,” I tell him.
“I wouldn’t say wrong, exactly. I’ll make you the same offer I made to Cole, though. Do you need me to come take over?”
Leaving his pregnant wife to come clean up my mess?
I shake my head. “No. Besides, how would we explain your presence here? I’ve got this. At least for now. But Sawyer, if we don’t have anything before Scarlett’s deadline…”
I have forty-eight hours to figure this out.
Otherwise I’m leaving.
Whether I want to or not.