Chapter 25
IVY
I held onto Ian’s hand to steady him, as his body vibrated next to mine like a tuning fork, even though a bolt of anger had me sizzling. This threat was a vile attack on his privacy, and I felt like doing physical harm to the perpetrator.
After a long pause, Ian said in a tight voice. “Not possible.”
Jack coughed. “Not possible that she’s offering it, that someone would be willing to pay for it, or not possible she has it to peddle?”
“Not possible it exists.”
I loosened my hand from Ian’s vise-like grip, and I flexed my fingers to restore circulation. “There is no sex tape, Jack, not of me and her, not of me and anyone.”
I knew we didn’t have one. Any time I’d even playfully asked for a racy picture of us, Ian shot it down.
Jack released a long sigh. “You’re sure?”
“That’s at least one bit of solid advice I got at the beginning of my career, and I stuck to it. I’ve never participated in a sex tape and never will.”
He kissed the side of my head as if in apology. Hell, I didn’t need a tape; I had the living, breathing original.
“What do you think she has? Could be something blurry. Could be faked. She seems pretty confident.”
“It could be something like that. Videos can be altered, created with AI. If she’s looking for a big payday, I wouldn’t put that past her, although the whole setup stuns and saddens me at the same time.”
“We’ll have to handle it one way or another. She must have something convincing.”
Ian slumped back, kicking his feet onto the coffee table. “What are you suggesting? That we pay her off, so she don’t sell it to some sleazy publication?”
“The record company might even do it. Just end this, Ian. Give the woman what she wants and get out from under it. You can’t afford that tape making the rounds...even if it looks like a fake. If she times it to coincide with the release of the lead single, we’re fucked.”
I nodded. “I agree with Jack. Just be done with it.”
Ian jerked his head up, and his jaw dropped. “You’re taking the piss, right? Both of you.”
He pushed up from the sofa and stalked to the window. “It’s not me. Even if it were me, I’m not paying someone blackmail. You think it would end there? It wouldn’t.”
He had a point. I chewed on my fingernail. Did I really believe Matt’s blackmail of me would ever stop?
Jack’s panicked voice pulsed over the line. “We can’t let her do this, mate. She’ll ruin you. How long would it take for you to prove it’s fake? By that time, your single and the whole album could be buried under this story.”
Dragging a hand through his hair, Ian said, “The record company has deep pockets. They also have solicitors. I never consented to be filmed during a sex act, so her release of that tape is a crime. Also, if you have text messages from her threatening to shop the tape around unless we pay her off, save them. Blackmail is also a crime.”
“Ian...”
Ian cut him off. “Just do it, Jack. I’m done. Whatever happens, happens.”
Stuffing the phone in his pocket, Ian turned to face me. “You really thought it was a good idea to pay her off?”
Of course, I did. I was paying off my own brother.
“I just want you protected. I don’t want anything to mess up your comeback. You’ve worked too hard for it.”
I shrugged out of the beautiful wool cashmere coat that I could not accept and folded it over in the box. “Why is Jessica doing this to you? Why does she hate you so much?”
He ran a hand across his mouth. “I don’t even know if she does. This latest stunt proves she’s after money, and she’s grown desperate to get it. She has a lot of model-influencer friends, and a few of them are doing alright. Jessica’s engagement fell off when we split, but honestly, she doesn’t have the work ethic to make a go of it. She’s too much of a party girl.”
“Did she do drugs and drink when she was with you?”
“No drugs and she didn’t drink as much as I did, but she always wanted to go out—parties, clubs, red carpets, openings. I eventually found it exhausting and decided to get sober. Even if she had agreed to change her lifestyle, I knew it wasn’t going to work out between us. Different interests, different personalities. When I broke it off to enter rehab, I think she believed we’d get back together when I came out. I made it clear that wasn’t going to happen and took off on some travels with a few mates. Then I met you.”
“She seems to have found a will to work when it comes to messing up your life. Why are you so confident you can keep this scandal at bay?”
“I’m not.”
He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. “But I am confident that it doesn’t matter one way or the other...and you showed me that.”
“Me?”
I rotated in his arms, placing my hands on his chest. “Why are you listening to me? I take it all back—whatever I told you.”
“What you said...”
he cupped my face with his hand “...was that everything would be okay no matter what happened with the record. When Jack was going on and on, predicting success for the single and the album and the tour dates, you sensed my panic about all the pressure. Then you told me whatever happens is going to be okay, and I feel that now. If I’m the subject of lewd gossip or I get attacked online—none of it matters to me as long as you’re by my side. Are you?”
I buried my nose in his chest and said in a muffled voice, “Always. I love you so much, it hurts.”
And if I inspired him, he inspired me even more. I knew what I had to do to get my life back.
***
The following day, we returned home. We’d spent one more night in the London flat, holding each other and whispering through the night. As usual, Ian opened up more than I did, and it further convinced me that I needed to take care of business in LA so that I could be a worthy partner for him.
When we got home, Scruffy danced around my feet until I picked him up and kissed him on the nose. “Did Sharon take good care of you?”
I carried him into the kitchen and checked his water dish. “I’ll play with you outside, later.”
Ian followed me into the house with the coat boxes and placed them in the foyer. “You didn’t even try them all on. Please don’t tell me all my effort lugging them around London was for nothing.”
My gaze darted to the boxes as I set Scruffy on the floor. The last thing I needed right now was for Ian to spend money on me. “The coat I tried on was beautiful, but I recognized those labels, and they’re too expensive. I can’t accept that from you.”
Ian rolled his eyes. “You don’t accept anything from me.”
I spread my arms out and turned around in the middle of the sitting room. “All this and you flew me out here—first class.”
“You’re living with me. Did you expect me to charge you rent?”
His phone buzzed, and he scrolled through it. Without looking up, he said, “Besides, I’m sure I owe you loads of money from LA. You wouldn’t let me pay for anything out there.”
I aimed a toe at the boxes. “One of those coats probably costs about six grand. A trip to the La Brea Tar Pits and fish on the pier don’t even come close.”
Grabbing my hand, he tugged me toward him and threaded his fingers through my hair as he cupped the back of my head and kissed me. “Please pick out a coat. As we get into winter, it’s only going to get colder here.”
He held up his phone. “I hate to abandon you, but I have a lot of work to do to prepare for the release of the lead single and the music video, not to mention taking a few meetings with my label’s solicitors to handle this sex tape.”
“So, you’re going to call her bluff and go on the attack.”
“It’s the only sensible thing to do.”
He gave me a little nudge toward the kitchen. “Go get some lunch and stop worrying about my problems.”
“Do you want me to bring you something to eat?”
I patted his flat stomach.
“No. I’ll take a break and get some food later.”
Once Ian disappeared into his studio, I unpacked our bags and took Scruffy out back for a run-around. This would be the perfect time to head back to LA for a week, as Ian would be busy planning for the release of “Lost and Found.”
If everything went to plan, I could wrap up in a week.
Our relationship seemed to be rushing toward some sort of climax. Sasha and her husband, Jasper, would be back in England soon, bringing Thea with them, and Ian had hinted that he wanted us to meet. So far, I’d put off meeting his family for Sunday dinner, but with the holidays approaching I’d have to make some kind of appearance, although the thought of family terrified me. He kept assuring me they weren’t the Corleones or even the Kardashians, but I’d probably feel more at home with either of those than a normal, unproblematic family like his.
Scruffy finally collapsed at my feet, exhausted, so I tucked him under my arm and brought him inside while I made lunch. Ian hadn’t popped out of his studio once since we got home, and I knew he’d probably emerge, blurry eyed, in time for dinner...or later.
He had a lot to manage and decide, and it made my heart sing to see how much he’d taken charge of his own career. I had a suspicion it hadn’t always been like this for him.
I made sandwiches for us and sliced some apples and pears into a bowl. I carried his food, along with a bottle of sparkling water, to his studio and stood at the door for a second, listening to his low voice rumble on the other side, one of the songs from the album playing in the background.
When he stopped talking, I tapped the bottle against the door before entering. “I figured you’d forget to eat, so I made you some lunch. You can eat it if you like or have it later.”
He’d been reclining on a leather sofa and sat up when I walked in. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”
He placed his laptop onto the table in front of him. “Come here.”
I had balanced the plate with the sandwiches on top of the bowl of fruit, and I walked carefully toward him and dipped down like a cocktail waitress and set everything on the table next to his computer.
He pulled me into his lap, just as his phone rang again. He tapped the display to answer. “Just one minute, Ronnie.”
His hands encircled my waist, and I held his face and planted a kiss on his mouth. As I tried to break away, he deepened our connection. I savored the kiss for another several seconds until Ronnie’s voice interrupted us. “Ian, you still there?”
I put a finger to his soft lips and scooted off his lap. He mouthed sorry to me as I backed out of the room and blew him a kiss.
I checked the time on my phone and ensconced myself in the room Ian had turned into an office for me. His studio and workspace had no windows and featured dark, heavy furniture along with a collection of microphones and stands, headphones, cables, instruments, and several computers.
In contrast, my light, airy space looked onto the garden, and bookshelves lined the walls. My laptop rested on a gleaming cocobolo desk with wavy lines through the grain. It shouldn’t matter where I wrote—I’d written books in coffee houses sitting next to homeless guys and at the beach blowing sand out of my keyboard—but this office seemed to open creative space for me.
I required something other than creativity now, though. I checked the time again and decided I could give Chloe a few more minutes of sleep. I’d already left my lunch here before delivering Ian’s, so I bit into a slice of apple while I opened my laptop.
Then I did something I’d put off for months. I went on my social media sites and searched for Ian’s ex—Jessica Finch. She’d called one of her accounts Messica.
Girl, you have no idea what messy is.
After I scrolled through some of the posts, I figured she was promoting herself as some messy bestie persona with a chaotic, but fun lifestyle, but her content fell flat.
Enlarging one of her photos, I studied the image—tall, a lot taller than I, skinny, busty, shoulder-length light brown hair, lots of makeup or filters, or whatever. I couldn’t tell how people manipulated their appearances anymore. I kept studying her face looking for signs of derangement or evil or sadism, but all I saw was a pretty girl, who looked like every other influencer. Maybe I should set her up with Matt.
I shut down everything and grabbed my phone. Chloe answered after three rings. Uh-oh.
“What the fuck, Ivy. Why do you keep calling me at the crack of dawn? Do you need a lesson in time zones?”
“It’s seven o’clock there. Cryptobro isn’t over for another night, is he?”
“God, no.”
She made a big commotion with her yawning. “Did you confront Ian about BlueFin?”
“It’s not his profile, and the panties belonged to a buddy who was partying at his place—without him.”
“His buddy’s a cross-dresser?”
“Belongs his buddy’s fuckbuddy.”
“You’re sure.”
“Positive. This person who’s harassing him has graduated to blackmail, so she’s not even trying to conceal her intentions now.”
“Gee, that sounds familiar.”
She blew her nose. “Having a bunch of money isn’t that great after all, is it? You’d always have people trying to separate you from it. That’s why, if I ever won the lottery, I wouldn’t tell a soul. Not even my own mother.”
“You wouldn’t tell Kelly? After all she’s done for you?”
“Honestly, I think my mom likes you better than me, anyway, so hell no.”
I took a deep breath. “Can you help Ian mitigate the fall-out from BlueFin? Work your magic? He insists on paying you this time.”
“I suppose there are a few things I could do, and why shouldn’t I charge him? Everyone else seems to be tapping him for cash.”
Toying with a pear chunk, I said, “There’s something else. I’m ready to go scorched earth on Matt.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to get that flash drive from him.”
Part III – Across the Pond
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The now solo boybander has a new release and music video on tap, but there’s another video that has nothing to do with music that might steal the thunder and reveal his renowned package down under.