Chapter 16 #2
"No, I guess not. I asked him if anyone was going to be mad that we were making out, and he was like no, but I still feel weird."
"Let me ask you this," she says. "Do you really think he's married and would do that?"
"I would hope not. I mean, no, I don't, actually."
"If he's not married or engaged, then where did he go? Do you think he was in jail?"
"Jail?" I ask her. "For what?"
"I don't know. That's why you are investigating, and I'm not."
"Shit. Maybe that's why the paparazzi is in town." I lean back and stare at her. "Do you think I should tell Holly?"
"I mean, you're going to have to tell her something. If she thinks there's no story coming, you're out."
"I know. I guess I got to do what I got to do." I'm about to ask for her opinion on whether she thinks Hunter likes me, when Holly barks at all of us.
"Listen up, everyone, let's have a brief recap of the headline stories that we have running in next week's edition, and then I would like some pitches.
Gina, I really hope you have some great suggestions for me when we talk in private later, okay?
" There’s a tightness to her tone, that makes me wince inside.
"Yes, Holly," I say. I’m in trouble. BIG TIME.
"I hope you've got some good news for me." I don't know what to say, but then I see Jenny S. smirking at me with her perfect blonde hair. She looks so smug and annoying that I just want to take that disgustingly frustratingly beautiful expression off her face.
"I have some great news for you, Holly. I've got what I think could be the breakout article of the year," I say as Emma claps.
"She's not joking. This could be Pulitzer Prize-winning," she says, and my eyes widen.
"Great. Great," Holly says, looking pleased. "I can't wait to hear about it." She continues talking, and I lean over and whisper in Emma's ear.
"Oh, my God. What are you doing, Emma? Why would you say that?"
"Because something just occurred to me." Her eyes are glowing. "Something that really could make this an amazing story."
"What?"
"What if Hunter were in jail?"
"What?"
"Maybe he's a thief. Maybe he disappeared because he went to jail. It would make sense as to why he wants to keep everything hush-hush," she says softly. "What if he's the one who stole his grandma's necklace?"
My mind is doing mental gymnastics. Could Hunter be a thief? The jail time would make sense. But there is just no way. Is there?
"Now that would be a story."
I nod slowly. The thought is crazy. It would be a groundbreaking story.
The sort of thing that would be in a documentary.
Billionaire Heir Steals Own Family Heirlooms. It would be an outrageous headline, but I just don't think it's true.
I think she's nowhere close to the truth, but it would make sense.
The truth of the matter is, I don't know what to think.
I just know that I'm going to have to tell Holly something to make her happy, and I have about an hour to figure out what I'm going to say.
"It went as well as it could," I tell Emma as I drive through the gates and head back towards the mansion. "Holly wants me to send her an update in a week."
"Did you tell her about the fake dating?"
"No way. Just that Hunter has a secret, and I'll be able to crack it soon.
" I pull up outside the house and park. I'm not sure what I'm going to say when I reenter the house.
I have two missed calls—one from Preston and one from Hunter—and I know they're wondering where I am.
I told them that I'd gone to the market to get some fresh fruit.
Shit, I think to myself as I look at my empty passenger seat.
I forgot to pick up fruit in my hurry to get back.
There is no way I'll be able to tell them that I’ve been at a meeting at the Whisper Cove Guardian.
There is no way I could tell them that I'd been informing my editor in chief that I thought I had an exposé on the Waverly family that was going to blow everyone away.
"Hey, I'm back at the house. I'll call you later.
" I hang up and jump out of my car. I don't know what I'm going to do.
I am trying to think of a reason why I don't have any fruit when a familiar car in the driveway makes me stop dead.
If I'm not mistaken, that's Patrick's car.
My heart beats rapidly as I hurry to the front door.
What the fuck is he doing here? Did he somehow figure out where I work?
Did he come to see me? I run up the sidewalk, and as I'm about to reach for the front door, it opens, and Patrick steps outside.
"Why, hello there, Gina," he says, grinning at me wickedly. Like he'd been watching out the window and waiting for me to arrive.
"What are you doing here?" I will not lose it. The smug look on his face makes me want to slap him, even though I'm not a violent woman.
"I could ask you the same thing." He licks his lips and looks me up and down. "You're looking mighty fine today. Lose five pounds?"
"You're rude."
"But you still love me, don't you?" He winks at me in that way that he thinks is sexy, which makes me want to throw up.
"I think you're a pig. Now tell me, what are you doing here?"
"I came to see the lady of the house." He grins. "Why do you want to know? Are you jealous?"
"No, I'm not jealous." I stare at him suspiciously. "What did you want with Mrs. Waverly, and how did you get into the house?"
"When did we get married?" he says, frowning.
"Excuse me?"
"You're asking me questions as though you deserve an answer. And I'm just wondering, when did you become my wife?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Patrick."
"Well, if you think I'm going to answer those invasive questions, you'd have to have a reason why. And the only person I think should be able to demand answers from me would be my wife. And from what I know, we're no longer together."
"We are no longer together, Patrick."
"So why should I tell you anything? Anyway, I'm leaving. I got what I needed."
"And what was that, Patrick?"
"To see you, of course." He presses his lips together and makes kissing noises. "You're a gem."
"Excuse me?"
"You look like a gem. Like a diamond, a ruby, an emerald."
"Are you trying to do business here? Leave this family alone. They have nothing to offer you, and you have nothing to offer them."
"I'm hurt that you would say such a thing to me."
"Whatever, Patrick."
"You know what I find interesting, though, Gina?"
"What's that?"
"I don't think they know about your job."
"What are you talking about?" All of a sudden, I feel faint. What does Patrick know, and what doesn't he know?
"Well, I was in there, and a little birdie told me that you're a ghostwriter for the Waverlys. And I thought, well, that's mighty nice—you taking a second job. But turns out, no one in the household seems to know about that first job."
He cocks his head to the side. "No one seems to know that you're a journalist for Whisper Cove Guardian, the finest newspaper in town. Why would that be, Ms. sweet, innocent Gina Spellman?"
"You know what, Patrick? I have nothing to say to you.
" I let out a deep sigh and mentally count to ten.
I'm about to tell him to go to hell when the front door opens again, and Hunter steps outside.
He looks at me, and then he looks at Patrick, and then he looks at me again. There's a question in his eyes.
"You're back."
"Yeah, I just got back. I was just—"
"Hi," Patrick says, turning to him. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Patrick, and you are?"
"Hunter Waverly."
"Oh, I've heard of you. Aren't you the CEO of—"
"I have something to do," Hunter says, and turns around and heads right back into the house.
"Well, he's polite," Patrick says, shaking his head. "These billionaires think they're too good for the likes of me. Well, I'll show 'em. I don't know what you're doing here, Gina. And to be quite honest, I don't really care. But don't question me again, you hear?"
"You know what, Patrick? If I never see you again, it will be too soon.
" I brush past him hard and head into the house and slam the door behind me.
My heart is racing, and my face is flushed.
I feel disoriented as I walk down the hallway and head to the kitchen.
I need to get a glass of water and figure out why Patrick was here.
Did he steal the necklace? But how? As I step into the kitchen, I see Hunter standing there. His eyes are hard as he stares at me.
"What was that about?" he asks.
"What do you mean, what was that about?"
"Why was Patrick—your ex—here?"
"To woo me back," I say, rolling my eyes. He doesn't laugh. He doesn’t think I’m being honest, does he? He can’t really believe that Patrick was here to win me back. "I'm joking. I don't know. I literally just arrived.” I see the disbelief on his face. “You don't believe me."
"I don't know what to believe, Gina," he says.
I watch as he stares at his expensive gold Rolex watch and then shakes his head.
"Be ready for dinner at six. I'll meet you at the front of the house.
" And with that, he's gone. I have no idea who else will be at the dinner.
Or if anyone will believe us. I can only hope that there are no more surprises coming, as I'm still trying to unweave all the information I've already gathered.