The Payback Plan

Chapter 16

16

His bare feet hit the sand less than a minute later followed quickly by hers. The air was definitely still fresh but there was an undeniable note of warmth permeating the afternoon chill and Oliver heard her sigh. Looking over his shoulder, he found her face upturned to the sun as she pulled that stupid knot out of her hair.

Thank fuck .

Released from its prison, it immediately floated around her head in the slight breeze and it already felt like the old Paige was back. She should always let it do its thing.

‘See, wasn’t I right?’ he told her closed lids.

Her eyes opened and she immediately rolled them. ‘Yeah, yeah. No one likes a know-it-all, Olly.’

But she said it with a smile and Oliver felt instantly lighter. Instantly less worried. Plus, it was only the second time she’d ever called him Olly and he really liked it.

The beach was still deserted but he knew that wouldn’t last. People in the apartments up and down the front would soon make their way out. There were a couple of cars in the parking area belonging, he presumed, to the people he could see walking along the south west coast path that traversed the headland but it would fill quickly the longer the sun shined.

They strolled to the shoreline where, since the beginning of the year, the waves had rolled relentlessly in, battering away at the sand in vicious dumps but where now, they gently lapped with just the tiniest little ruffle before they turned to foam and retracted again.

‘Still looks cold,’ she said as she slowed, stopping a few feet from the water’s edge.

Oliver nodded as he halted beside her. ‘It’ll freeze your bollocks off for sure.’

To his surprise she laughed then crouched to roll up the legs of her jeans. ‘Only one way to find out.’

Game for anything, Oliver followed suit, dragging the ankle cuffs of his track pants up to below his knees and following her across the short stretch of wet sand.

At the first wash of frigid Atlantic water over her foot she cursed loudly. ‘Holy mother f ? — ’

Cutting herself off didn’t help. Oliver was already laughing hard at the profanity which probably shouldn’t have been a turn on but was anyway. Not that his laughter lasted long when water swirled around his feet causing him to also curse as he hopped from one foot to the other. ‘ Son of a bitch .’

It was her turn to laugh, then he joined her, their gazes locking. Paige’s cheeks suddenly had some colour. Her freckles, accentuated by the sun, gave her skin a golden glow as the breeze blew a curl across her face.

As their laughter settled she sighed deeply and looked out to sea. ‘Thank you for dragging me out of the house. It’s really very beautiful out here.’

Oliver gazed at her profile. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her the beach wasn’t the only thing of beauty but he didn’t want to scare her back to the house. ‘Of course.’

Her eyes on the horizon, a smile crept across her face. ‘My bones thank you, too.’

Hooting out another laugh, Oliver turned his attention to the becalmed ocean and they just stood there, not talking, staring out over the gently shifting mass, an occasional breeze ruffling their hair. But it didn’t feel strained or weird or like he should rush in and fill it up with words. It felt comfortable. Like two people who’d known each other for a long time.

Suddenly, Paige let out a startled yelp, ruining the ambience as she leaped backwards. Momentarily confused, Oliver wasn’t sure what had happened, all he knew was that Paige had lost her footing in the wet sand that had been constantly washing out from under their feet making traction impossible.

In a re-enactment of their hallway performance he lunged for Paige, only it was her careening backwards this time, falling in slow motion. Oliver just managed to catch her hand but, with the momentum on her side, she dragged them both down and within seconds he was sprawled on top of her in the wet sand.

Her gasp told him the sand was cold and her grunt that she’d landed hard. ‘Are you okay?’ He raised himself on the flats of his forearms so she could breathe.

Panting a little, she nodded. ‘Sorry. Some seaweed scraped over my foot. Scared the crap out of me.’

For a moment, neither of them spoke, then they were laughing – again – at the absurdity of it all. Paige pressed a hand to her chest as their laughter settled. ‘My heart is beating like a train,’ she said.

Oliver’s gaze meshed with hers. ‘So’s mine.’

But it had nothing to do with being startled and everything to do with the woman under him, as their husky breathing fell into sync. She was as soft as he remembered and her cheeks were flushed and her hair fanned out around her like a corona and her hazel eyes were glowing and damn it all, he was in love with her.

The kind of love he’d never felt before.

Deeper, inextricably linked to this woman, like a fingerprint on his heart and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to dip his head, to kiss her. So, he did, not bothering to check the impulse, groaning deep as her mouth parted without resistance.

Unfortunately, common sense kicked in quickly and realising he shouldn’t be taking advantage of their situation, Oliver reluctantly pulled away. ‘God… sorry,’ he muttered.

But she didn’t let him get too far. ‘No.’ She slid her arms around his neck. ‘Don’t stop.’ And she lifted her mouth to his.

Oliver’s pulse rat-a-tatted inside his head at her unexpected encouragement and he followed the urging of her lips, taking the kiss deeper, as she widened her legs to accommodate his hips. Everything faded to black – the water not far from their toes, the wet sand, the seagulls calling nearby – there was just Paige, soft and moaning, one leg wrapping around his waist.

A dog barking and a child laughing did however punctuate the sexual haze and they broke apart as two little kids ran to the water not far from where they were making out, a woman shooting them a cheeky thumbs up.

‘Do you want to take this inside?’ she asked, panting a little.

Surprised the interruption hadn’t made her withdraw from him again, he muttered, ‘Hell yeah,’ before quickly levering off her and pulling her to her feet.

Her mouth was cherry red and kiss-swollen and, when she was steady, he shoved his hands into her hair and kissed her again. Melting into him, she sighed against his mouth and the small noise of pleasure she made in the back of her throat was like a fist to his groin.

Pulling away long, drugging moments later, she gazed at him, her eyes satisfyingly glazed. ‘I think we should hurry.’

Oliver couldn’t agree more as he grabbed her hand and tugged her across the sand.

* * *

The shit hit the fan a week later.

Until that point, Paige had been back in the bubble. It had expanded way beyond his bedroom to include all the rooms. Hell, any surface in the house had been fair game. They’d even got amorous on the balcony one night, Oliver’s hand over her mouth muffling her cries as the moonlight had poured down on their heads like a bloody great spotlight.

Anyone on the beach could have seen them. But, at midnight, the beach was deserted and every resident in sleepy little off-season St Ives, was tucked up in their beds.

Including their neighbours either side – thankfully.

Paige had been stuck for a couple of days after the call with Bella who had essentially given her blessing to her and Oliver. Because, blessing or not, she hadn’t been able to see anything long term with him and, deep in her gut, Paige was a pragmatist. But then they’d landed in the sand together in a tangle of limbs and she’d stopped fighting it, stopped trying to be pragmatic and ceded to desire .

Fully this time. Really let go of everything and just indulged. It had been an age since she’d allowed herself to surrender to the sexual being she’d suppressed for so long that Paige had doubted she even existed any more. But she did. Paige the hedonist had come out of hiding and revelled in Oliver’s attention.

She’d ignored the ticking clock and just lived in the moment, laid herself bare, opened herself up to him. She’d felt free for the first time in four years.

And then, a couple of hours before leaving to catch her flight to New York to meet up with the girls at the gallery pre-opening party, Doris texted her and everything came crashing down.

I always knew you and Olly were going to be a thing All of us at the WI are so thrilled for you both Just so you know, we cater weddings

Paige frowned at the text which had a link attached and wondered for a moment if Doris had been hacked but the message was too personal for that and she was overly fond of an emoji since her great-granddaughter had given her a tutorial on the subject.

So, steaming coffee in one hand, she clicked on the link. And her entire world came crashing down. There on the front page of the world’s most scurrilous gossip rag was a picture of her and Oliver, horizontal, kissing on the sand, her leg wrapped around the back of his thigh the headline leaping out like a striking rattlesnake.

Redondo’s Runaway Groom Gets Sandy with Buxom Beach Babe

Oh, dear lord .

Beneath that was a second picture of their passionate cinch as they’d both stood and a third of them holding hands, her laughing as Oliver practically dragged her back to the house. Considering they had to have been taken from a distance, they were good, clear pictures, her face easily discernible.

Shit.

Trying not to slide into a black hole of flashbacks from four years ago, Paige placed her mug on the table, scrolling to read the copy, her hands shaking, her gut roiling.

After photographs emerged of Oliver Prendergast, son of famed British actor Roger Prendergast (deceased), attending a local WI meeting in St Ives with a certain golden statue a few weeks ago, our photographer was in the right place at the right time to catch Redondo’s runaway groom making out with a mystery woman on Porthmeor Beach where he’s been holed away in his father’s beach house since jilting his bride-to-be last year.

Olly was set to marry Bella Carmichael of the wealthy Upstate New York Carmichael family at their country estate in the Hamptons but changed his mind on the morning of their wedding. Soon after he fled America for his country of birth, creating a massive scandal and leaving behind a huge mess for his distraught bride-to-be to clean up.

No official statement outlining the reasons for the wedding being called off has ever been released but it was rumoured at the time that, like his father, Oliver Prendergast wasn’t good at keeping his fly zipped and he’d been caught in flagrante the night before with the bride’s maid-of-honour.

Or maybe the buxom beach babe whose identity is unknown, had something to do with it? Did he leave because there was another woman? Is she next in line to be Mrs Oliver Prendergast? We’ll let the pictures speak for themselves.

Paige scrolled to the pictures that were speaking very freaking loud.

Her brain scrambling, Paige put her phone on the table and tapped on the laptop keyboard to wake it up. She’d been just about to shut it down to pack it into her hand luggage for the flight. Minimising Oliver’s book doc she’d been doing some last-minute work on, she opened a new window and typed Oliver Prendergast, buxom beach babe into the search bar.

Her gut sank as the screen filled with the images she’d already seen. It appeared as though every online publication on the planet had picked them up and were proudly displaying them on home pages. People had shared them on social media.

Hell, apparently #redondosrunawaygroom was a thing on TikTok and videos were already being posted with the latest development.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

They were everywhere. Just like last time. Was she naked? No. But were they intimate and private? Yes. And had she given her permission for them to be taken and/or published? Hell fucking no .

Paige’s head pounded and her breathing quickened as nausea threatened. How long would it take them? She was a mystery now but how long until someone somewhere recognised her from a random porn site or from images they’d saved and put in a file on their desktop labelled spank bank. Or until some publication used facial recognition software to identify her?

And then she would be exposed all over again – literally and figuratively.

But it would be worse this time because now her name was associated with a guy who the paparazzi followed around and was a fucking TikTok hashtag! Those photos could well go viral this time.

Snapping the screen of her laptop shut, she yelled, ‘ Oliver! ’

Wanting to be as far away from the pictures as possible, Paige stalked from the table and started to pace, her mind spinning a million miles a minute, her arms hugged around her middle. She should have known something like this was going to happen. That the universe hadn’t stopped screwing with her yet.

What a fool she’d been this past week, floating around in this blissful little bubble. An occasional thought about sleeping with Oliver under false pretences had needled her brain but Bella’s acceptance of their relationship had lulled her into a false sense of security. She’d started to think she could actually pull this off. That she could go to Scotland for the month then come back and confess her sins and they’d both laugh and everything would be okay.

But she should have known that wasn’t the way it worked. Not only had days of amazing sex made her completely forget the reason her and Oliver couldn’t be together in the first place – photographers followed him around – worse still, she only had herself to blame for this debacle. The first time she’d popped her head above the parapet had been to engage in a deception and now it was biting her on the ass.

Whoever said karma was a bitch sure as shit knew what they were on about. She’d set out to get some karmic payback for Bella and the tables had turned.

The payback was on her.

‘You bellowed,’ Oliver said, breaking into her self-flagellation as he stepped into the living room, his smile fading the second he saw her face. ‘What’s wrong?’

He strode towards her, his brow furrowed in consternation but Paige waved him back. Unable to articulate a sentence right now, she tipped her chin at the table. ‘Laptop.’

Changing direction, Oliver crossed to the table, opened the laptop lid and touched the mouse pad, instantly bringing up the screen with those photos. ‘What the fuck?’ Glancing quickly at her, Oliver returned his attention to the screen, sinking into the chair while Paige paced miserably.

‘Those assholes ,’ he said eventually as he shut the lid down.

For a posh Brit he sounded very American when saying that word, giving it the right amount of sassy emphasis. Paige might have even laughed out loud had she not overwhelmingly wanted to cry.

‘Don’t worry.’ He stood and faced her. ‘I can fix this.’

Paige did laugh then, a harsh and bitter snort-laugh. ‘It’s too late now.’ She knew it and she knew he knew it too. There’d been a lot of valuable lessons from her last brush with this kind of thing but the biggest one had been that things lived on forever on the internet.

She buried her hands in her face. ‘God,’ she groaned. ‘This is a disaster.’

‘No.’ He took a step towards her but halted when she shook her head vigorously. ‘I’m not going to lie to you, it might be kinda intense for a while. It’ll be open season on me again and they’ll be knocking at this door and every other door on the damn street every day hoping to find someone with a juicy bit of gossip about us.’

Yeah, but what happened when that juicy bit of gossip was about her and not us?

‘You going away for a couple of days before the vultures descend is actually perfect timing,’ he continued, oblivious to her inner turmoil. ‘By then some other poor unfortunate celeb will do something they deem newsworthy and they’ll go away.’

He felt terrible, it was obvious, which only intensified the squall of feelings battering the inside of her brain. He wasn’t really to blame here. Sure, the payback plan wasn’t directly responsible for them being papped either – that was just the reality of Oliver’s life. But it was indirectly responsible for the predicament they were now in because of the photos.

It had been the catalyst. Without it she wouldn’t be in this house with him. She wouldn’t have been on that beach with him. She wouldn’t be in those photos with him.

She wouldn’t have fallen in love with him.

Shit. Shit. Shit . Not now. God, please, don’t have this epiphany now. How she felt was irrelevant. She couldn’t live her life like this with the threat of the ugliness from her past being relived again and again every time some pap or TikTok creator posted something about her and Oliver.

Paige swallowed. ‘It’s not going to go away.’

‘It will.’ He gave her one of those genuinely empathetic smiles that might have been condescending has she not known him. She knew he was trying to convey that he was an authority on the subject and she just had to trust him. ‘I’ve been doing this for a lot of years and invariably interest fades if you don’t feed it any fresh meat.’

‘But it won’t be about you, Oliver.’ A sob rose in her throat, a wave of panic gripping her as all the ways this could blow out of control bombarded her brain. ‘It’ll be about me.’

He frowned now, looking genuinely confused this time.

‘God, Olly ,’ she wailed. ‘The photos. My photos.’ She poked her chest as she blinked back a sudden well of tears. ‘How long do you think it’ll be before some bright young thing after a scoop, wanting to make a name for themself, finds the naked pictures and video of me?’

It dawned on him then. Paige watched it happen, realisation smoothing out his brow. ‘Jesus.’ He stalked towards her, halting just outside the zone of her personal space, shoving his hands in his back pockets as if he was trying to stop himself from pulling her into his arms. ‘I’m sorry.’ He shook his head. ‘I… didn’t think about that…’

‘Of course not,’ she muttered, swiping under her nose as it started to run.

It sounded bitter and angry and she was neither of those things at him. Or maybe just a little. At his celebrity. She was mostly just pissed at the situation all over again. If only she hadn’t let down her guard. If only she hadn’t agreed to this harebrained scheme.

‘You don’t have to, do you?’ she continued.

Now she sounded accusatory which was irrational but a veritable witch’s brew of emotions was broiling away in her stomach right now and none of them were rational.

‘ I can’t think of anything else. I haven’t been able to think of anything else for four bloody years.’

‘Paige.’ His voice was soft as he removed his hands from his pockets and reached out, sliding them onto her forearms that were still clutched around her middle, cinching like a steel hoop. He tugged gently and she held fast for only a moment before her resistance crumbled and she melted into his embrace.

And it felt so damn good in the circle of his arms, squeezing back the tears as he rocked slightly from side to side, his breath warm at her temple. He felt good, this man she loved. Solid and steadfast and real. A fledgling glow took root inside, yearning to burst free.

Worst. Timing. Ever.

‘I have plenty of money for a good lawyer I can?—’

‘No!’ Horrified, Paige pushed out of his embrace, taking a step back. She didn’t mean to be quite so vehement in her rejection but, absolutely not. She didn’t want the circle to be any wider than it was. She might not have a choice in it soon but while she did, she was keeping it small.

The way she should have kept herself.

Sniffling, Paige brushed past, heading for the table, her legs decidedly unsteady. Woulda. Coulda. Shoulda . If she let herself spiral into all the what-ifs, she’d miss her damn flight and, as Oliver had said, that was exceptionally fortuitous right now. She could fall apart on the plane. She did have eight hours to fill.

Determined to be businesslike, she stood behind the chair and opened the lid of her laptop. Quickly closing the tab on the screen displaying a close up of Oliver’s mouth locked on hers, she methodically set about opening the dozen other tabs minimised along the top, saving what was needed before closing them down.

‘I am so sorry about this,’ he said, from somewhere behind.

‘It’s not your fault,’ she dismissed, not looking up from her endeavour, numbness settling in her chest. ‘You’re right about not feeding them fresh meat.’ It was the only way she might be able to pull this off, if she disappeared from the picture completely – not just for a few days. Maybe the story would die down and the buxom beach babe would forever remain a mystery. ‘I’ll just drop out of sight.’

‘That’s not what I meant.’

‘Go straight to my parents after New York. Or my sister’s. Hopefully they won’t dig too deep.’ That could be possible. Especially if there was something else to distract them. ‘Maybe you could go to London and be seen with a few different women.’

The idea pushed to the forefront of her brain and was out before it could be properly vetted. And it made perfect sense. But her fingers faltered on the mouse pad as the implications slid sharp as a stiletto between her ribs and twisted. It hurt. To say nothing of how calculated it must sound but, in full pragmatist mode, no idea could be dismissed.

‘Paige.’

His voice sounded reproachful but, with her emotions already careening around like atoms in a collider, Paige didn’t really care what he thought right now. She’d brought this mess down on her own head and she would fix it.

‘It’s fine, Oliver.’ The last tab was his book document which she’d backed up to the USB stick she’d been using specifically for this project just before she’d got the text from Doris. ‘It’s my own fault. I should have stayed in the box. I should have stayed small.’

Suddenly he was there beside her, glowering. ‘That is utter bullshit.’

Paige startled. She’d never seen a truly angry Oliver. She’s seen him irritated and annoyed and exasperated. Maybe even a little cranky. But not tight-lipped with thunder and lightning clashing in blue eyes that had suddenly come over all stormy.

Why was he angry? ‘What?’

His brows pulled into a livid V. ‘Why are you being so damn passive?’

Bloody hell – was he serious? Did he have any perception of what it was like to be violated the way Harvey had violated her? She’d done what she could without losing herself in a quagmire of rage. She’d been pragmatic . It might not be very Hollywood but she’d got control over her life again.

‘Oh, you think I should be aggressive?’ she asked testily, half turning to face him.

‘No. But you shouldn’t shy away from it, either. Maybe you should take a stand?’

If he was trying to rouse her fighting spirt, he was far too late for that, it had died a long time ago. But he’d sure as shit roused her ire. Her fingers furled convulsively around the back of the chair. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

Shoving a hand through his hair, he huffed out a breath, looking at her like he couldn’t believe he had to explain it to her. ‘Why should you stay small? You didn’t do anything wrong, Paige. He wronged you. And yet here you are still punishing yourself for something he did to you while he’s out there having a grand old time. Don’t let that asshole take any more of your life from you than he already has.’

A giant, hot, seething bubble erupted in her gut. How freaking dare he stand there and pretend to know anything about what she’d been through and what she’d done to survive the shitshow. Her pulse was a roaring water hammer in her head as she snapped, ‘You have no idea how it feels to be exploited like that.’

‘I’ve been putting up with non-consensual pictures and stories being posted about me most of my life,’ he snapped back. ‘I think I might know a little bit about how you feel.’

No, he didn’t. Not like this. Sure, he’d been in and out of the paparazzi glare which was no doubt inconvenient but he wasn’t even in the ballpark of knowing what this felt like.

‘Really? But you got to bag a buxom beach babe who, surprise , turns out to be a secret porn star . Go you. I’m sure all your guy friends will throw you a parade.’

He sucked in a breath as she landed her punch. But Paige was on a roll now, a red mist settling in her bones, cold and desolate. If he truly wanted to feel her pain, then she had the perfect demonstration.

‘You want to really feel how I feel?’

Paige was completely possessed now, operating on raw fury. How dare this man who had been in her life for less than two months pretend he knew her. ‘If we take this…’

She turned back to her laptop where his document sat on the screen. The document that contained everything she’d collated including all the words he’d dictated during his beach walks. Quickly she tapped in the command for select all and everything highlighted.

‘Paige?’

Glaring at him for a beat, she hit the delete button. A prompt asked her if she was sure she wanted to delete.

‘Paige,’ he repeated, his voice a low growl.

But she was beyond listening as she clicked yes and watched it disappear from the screen. Quickly then she navigated to her trash bin and deleted it from there. When she glanced at him again, he was staring agape at the spot where his document had been.

‘Paige.’ His gaze flicked to her, his stormy eyes steely now. ‘What did you just do?’

‘That feeling?’ she said, looking at his face etched with an expression that was equal parts incredulous and horrified. ‘Take that feeling and multiply it by a thousand and you might just be in my ballpark.’

‘Please tell me you have that backed up in a cloud somewhere?’

She snorted. ‘You think I’m going to put important, private stuff about a famous Hollywood actor into a cloud that any amoral news organisation can hack into?’ She swiped the USB device off the table containing Oliver’s saved files. ‘It’s backed up here.’

He let out a slow, steady breath but Paige was damned if she was going to give him any relief from that feeling. Not just yet. Letting the thumb drive dangle from her fingers over her still steaming cup of coffee she dropped it in with a triumphant satisfying plop.

‘ Paige ,’ he seethed, as he stared at her aghast.

‘How are you feeling now?’ she asked as she snapped the lid of her laptop closed.

‘What the fuck?’ he demanded.

But Paige was done with this conversation. She always obsessively emailed everything to two separate email addresses every time she updated anything she was working on so she knew the information was safe as houses but she was dammed if she was going to let him know that right now.

He could stew for a bit.

Snatching up her laptop and phone, she said, ‘I’m leaving.’

Clearly still too stunned by watching the last six weeks of his work disappear into the ether, Oliver didn’t comment. He didn’t yell or even try to stop her. He just watched her stony-faced, his hands shoved in his pockets, his jaw clenched tight.

He hated her right now – she was pretty sure. And that feeling of triumph had been remarkably short-lived. But she hadn’t done it to make either of them feel good. She’d done it to make a point. And now it had been made, it was time to go.

With everything ready by the door, all she had to do was walk out which was exactly what she did, steel in her spine and fire in her blood.

Her heart crumbling into thousands of tiny pieces.