Chapter 21
The laptop screen glowed bright in the darkness of Viv’s room as she scrolled past one post about the gala after the next.
It had taken less than an hour for the footage to go viral. There were even videos with commentary by popular vloggers.
One titled Public Freak-out By Drunken Rich Chick. Another called Rich Gala Girl Gone Wild. But the one that caught Viv’s attention most was titled Who’s This Verit? Chick, Anyway?
She knew how popular video blogging had become, but Viv was surprised to see that this one already had over a million views. She hovered the cursor over the link, wondering if she had it in her to watch it.
It felt as if her fate would be revealed in the content alone. To have attention put on her at a live public event—using her real name, even—the idea terrified her. She was a single mother, after all.
A heavy layer of misgivings dumped onto her shoulders, burdening her body with more than she felt able to bear. Had she been an irresponsible mom? Allowed herself to inadvertently slip into the spotlight? Had she somehow put her kids in harm’s way?
Viv—unlike Duke, Sylvia, and most of the people at the gala—didn’t have a multi-million dollar estate in a gated area. She had a fixer upper in the valley and a set of young, vulnerable twins sleeping in the next room.
Her heart galloped into a new, frantic speed as she hovered a thumb over the mouse pad. She pulled in a deep breath, held it for a beat or two and, at last, gave it a click.
The video bloggers, referred to as vloggers, went by the name of TRIS, short for Two Rocking Italian Stallions. They were brothers, one with short hair, one with long, and both in their early to mid-twenties.
The two bumped shoulders before pointing at the screen. “Thanks for joining the Rocking Italian Stallions. Tonight, everyone’s talking about the public freak-out that took place at an LA gala earlier this evening,” one said.
“I’ll set the stage,” said the next guy. “Some blonde in her early thirties probably…”
“Or late twenties,” the other said.
The two shrugged. “She’s in a red dress with matching lipstick that she smears all over the microphone in a drunken rant.”
An image showed at the corner of the screen. A close-up of the microphone that did, in fact, show red smears of lipstick on the surface. Scary music ensued as the small image grew to briefly take up the entire screen.
“But what was she saying in this drunken rant and just who was it aimed at?”
The long haired guy took over. “It was aimed at two people, actually. The billionaire stud standing next to her. His name’s Duke Benton.”
“He’s one of the guys from The Lion’s Den, right?”
“Right. So, Blondie starts off sounding suspiciously bitter about the fact that Duke didn’t take her to the gala. She then brings some other chick into it—the woman he did bring—claiming he’d only done it because he wanted the woman to give him a good review in an interview with Slipper Magazine.”
“She sounds jealous to me,” the short haired guy said.
“Totally,” the other agreed. “But we looked into things, found out that, in fact, there is a woman named Verit? who interviewed Duke. And take a look at this. We’ve got the issue right here.”
The long haired one fanned out a magazine and took a whiff. “Fresh off the press.”
Viv glanced at the time, saw that it was after two a.m., and fought off a fresh wave of nausea as she considered what the editors and owners of Slipper thought of all this.
He held the cover up for the camera, causing an entirely different sort of pain to roll through her. She and Duke were supposed to go over it together in the morning at the park. He was bringing bagels and coffee. She was bringing the boys.
“This is one handsome dude, I’m not gonna lie,” one vlogger said.
“I’m man enough to admit that,” the other one agreed.
“So the question is this. Do you think this dude was actually pretending to like a woman in order to get a favorable review?”
“Doesn’t seem very likely,” his brother said. “But we wanted to take a look at this woman to make a proper assessment. As you heard from the online stream, her real name is Vivia Tripoli.”
“Oh, so she’s Italian,” the long haired guy said. “That’s hot.”
“Wait until you see her. We actually pulled some footage that aired earlier in the night and used it to look at the couple while they entered. Take a look.”
Up popped a full-body shot of Viv and Duke stepping into the banquet hall together. His hand was at her lower back, and he was leaning in as if whispering something into her ear.
“Hold the music,” the short haired guy said. The sound of a record player screeching to a halt came next. “We’re supposed to believe that this guy is only pretending to like this tall, curvy, beautiful woman who writes articles about famous people for a living?”
They looked at each other and broke into a laugh. “News flash for you, Blondie. He likes her because she’s smokin’ hot.”
“Heck yeah, she is,” the other agreed. “But as Sylvia Sampson might say—that’s the name of the ranting blonde—we found one teensy tiny problem with Verit?.”
“Dude,” the long haired one said. “I don’t care what the problem is. Tell me she’s only got two fingers and two toes, I’d still take her.”
“Okay,” said the other one. “How about two kids?”
The record screeching came again.
How would they know that? A deep wave of nausea rolled through Viv. It was just what she feared.
“Yep. She’s got twins. We used our super stellar skills to attain a picture of the boys, but since they’re minors we blurred out their faces.”
Viv gasped as a picture of the twins came up on the screen. It was a recent photo Mom took and likely posted while they were at Disneyland. Their faces were blurred, sure, but that didn’t stop the acidic heat that pooled up the back of Viv’s throat.
“They actually look like a couple of mini me’s,” the short haired one said.
“Total stallions in the making,” the other agreed. “But let’s be honest. Would you still date this chick knowing she had not one, but two kids?”
Viv pushed pause with a shaky hand before the answer could come.
Her fingers felt numb as she scrolled down the to the comments section. There were already over four hundred.
—There’s no way Duke is gonna stay with a chick that has two kids, one said.
—Is it right to date a guy you’re being paid to interview, like…while you’re interviewing him?
—He’s two-timing for sure. This is Duke Benton we’re talking about, guys, get real.
—Duke’s definitely using that chick from the valley, but who cares? He can use me any day. I’ll write whatever he wants me to.
—Two kids is a double deal breaker for me. I don’t care how hot she is.
Just when she thought she’d seen enough, Viv caught the ones below that.
—Verit? needs to retire or pick a new name. It’s not very “truthful” to hide the fact that you’re in love with the guy you’re writing about.
—She’s using her position to date her clients now? How sad. Slipper should boycott her.
A horrible blast of heat bubbled from an aching spot in her chest, quickly spreading over her body as her eyes clenched shut.
Viv rested both hands on the top edge of her laptop. Slowly then, she lowered it, shutting out the blinding light behind her lids little by little until it was closed.
She picked the laptop up then, plopped it onto the lower corner of the bed, and sank into the mound of pillows at her back.
It was all too much to process. In one sense, Viv was upset that Duke hadn’t defended her. He could have at least made it clear that he loved her—the subject was already on the table.
But that wasn’t what sent her out of the banquet room in a panic. It’s not what urged her to get home without waiting for Duke or anyone else. It’s not what caused her to dodge Duke’s call or reply to his text the way she had.
Viv reached for her phone, pulled up her messages, and read over his text as a hot, stinging ache ripped through her heart.
Duke: Vivi, please call me. I love you.
Viv: I love you too. I just need some space.
She hadn’t known how else to say it. Duke had become like air to her.
In the weeks leading up to the event, she hadn’t been able to picture life without him. Perhaps that had blinded her in some way after all. Intentional as she’d tried to be, maybe she’d been ignoring parts of the puzzle that would never click into place.
Maybe she’d been ignoring the very truth all along—that she was never meant to live in high society. It’s not who she was or where she fit.
Her hands went to her face, covering it as the tears brimmed, as her limbs trembled with pent-up hurt and fear.
Sylvia’s accusations were only the beginning. Viv had seen it dozens of times. It was her specialty— dissecting the ways one’s life went awry.
The media would take it and run. And heaven knew the media knew no bounds. The picture of the twins said it all.
She shouldn’t have allowed this. She’d been selfish, hadn’t she?
A deep and miserable ache ripped through her core as she considered what it all meant. What she’d have to give up if she were going to protect her boys.
An image of Duke floated to her mind. That gorgeous picture of him on the cover.
He’d been standing before the vineyard in a white on white casual suit, a burgundy scarf peeking from the front pocket.
He’d been leaning against a copper wine stein with the vineyard at his back, that prize-winning smolder on his face.
It hurt to think of him. Hurt because she knew who he was behind the appearance and the gossip and the public persona he’d let define him.
She wanted so badly to help people see the real him.
But was that all ruined now? Would the entire interview be dismissed because of what Sylvia said at the gala?
It felt like a double loss.
A complete fail in bringing Duke redemption. And a fail at making the relationship work too.
The fact was, she’d been selfish going into the relationship, hadn’t she? Sure, Viv had taken time to go into things with intent where her own feelings were concerned, but had she taken enough time to think about the boys? About her duty to protect them at all costs?
A cruel ache pushed through her body in a slow crawl as the realization came to full light, even amidst the darkness. Viv couldn’t keep dating Duke. It would be selfish and irresponsible. And as a single mother, those were two things she could not afford to become.
Heck, look at the number of times the Benton family had wound up in the press over the last few years. It was one thing after the next.
If she went away quietly after tonight’s storm, perhaps it wouldn’t go much further. Perhaps the next big scandal would come and push her story to the wayside. Perhaps cruel women like Sylvia with Duke in their sights wouldn’t target her or, even worse, the twins.
Yes, she loved Duke. But good parents made sacrifices for their kids, right?
Even as she worked through it in her mind, an inner voice said Viv was wrong. Said she could somehow still have both.
But that was the selfish side of her speaking up once more.
She’d have to be strong.
She’d have to put the boys first.
And she’d have to let Duke Benton go.