3. Lockheart
LOCKHEART
PRESENT DAY
“No.” My voice is louder, and harsher, than I intended it to be and shock is written all over Emilia’s face.
Squirming in my chair, not comfortable with where this is going, I’m fully aware that now I’ve given away a little bit of discomfort to her, she’s going to circle me like prey and go in for the kill.
“Why not? Who is she to you?” Fuck, she’s too good.
“Nobody.” Even I hear the wobble in my voice that tells her I’m lying. I cross and recross my legs and let my knee bounce. I know she’s watching me and noting down all of these nervous twitches, and I also know I’m going to have to fucking tell her all about my past with Nicole.
“Try again, Owen.” She places her elbows on her desk with her hands clasped under her chin. A typical Shark power move.
“Emilia, can’t you just accept my answer?”
Her eyes glint in the light, she knows she’s got me right where she wants me. “Nope. The truth, spill!”
“She wrote a kiss-and-tell story on me. Except, she didn’t kiss-and-tell, a wannabe WAG sold her story to her and she wrote it. It was the last article my mum read about me.”
Emilia’s one of the few people I opened up to when I signed with her.
She knows how hard it was for me when my mum died.
I only wish she was my agent when the story hit because she would’ve squashed that shit.
But Phillip was, and he was the shittest agent on the planet.
Actually no, that title goes to Oscar, my agent between Phillip and Emilia.
“Is that it?” I avoid all eye contact with her. “Owen!” Her voice is sharp and I flinch a little.
“No, that's not it. She fabricated a story about me too.”
I take a deep breath and wait for the rage to erupt from her, but she just raises her brow at me, waiting for more.
I glare back. Her nails clack on the top of her desk, methodically drumming the wood, waiting for me to speak.
I straighten my back, examine my nails in an exaggerated bored fashion and sigh loudly at the game she’s playing.
A smirk crosses her lips and she leans back in her chair, bringing her feet up to rest on the top of her desk.
The red soles of her patent black heels conjure images of her striding through the blood of her fallen enemies, and I shiver.
She smiles, noticing the slight slip in my composure, and clicks her tongue as soft laughter falls from her lips. I give up, she knows she's won.
“Fine.” A smug smile lands on her lips but she doesn’t say a word, just listens. “We dated for two months. I didn’t know she was a journalist. I didn’t know she was Nic fucking Moran. And I definitely didn’t know she was doing the long con, playing me for a fool all for a made up story.”
“You fell in love with her?” A soft voice, one I’ve never heard fall from the Shark’s lips has me frowning my displeasure.
“No—I—erm—Shit!” I’ve spent the past six years convincing myself I had no feelings for her whatsoever, but I know it was a fool’s job. I loved her. So much so when I found out what she’d done, my heart broke into pieces. But like fuck would I admit that to anyone else.
“Did she love you back?”
A laugh barrels out of my throat, sardonic and mocking, and Emilia shoots me a warning look, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.
“I’m sorry, Shark, but come on. She wrote a sex story about me.
Then she devised and executed a plan to meet me, let me fuck her, used me, and fabricated another tale. No, she didn’t love me back.”
“I never took you for an idiot, Owen.” Her feet glide off the desk and she sits elegantly, spine straight and her shoulders back.
“What d’you mean?”
“I mean if you truly believe she would spend two months dating you, sleeping with you, all to get a story and then made one up after all that, you’re an idiot.”
My mouth opens and closes, my brain trying to come up with an argument but struggling to make sense of one.
She shakes her head and rolls her eyes at the same time.
“Complete idiot. Why would she need to write a fabricated story when she had all the information about you in front of her? Do you really think she’s that good of an actress to be able to play you for two months?
You’re not that gullible. Marcello? For sure. You? No way.”
“You don’t even know her. Why are you defending her so much?” I cross my arms over my chest and glare at her, but it has no effect on her whatsoever.
“I’ve met her. Spoken to her. Gotten to know her. And that doesn’t seem like something she’d do.”
“She knew who I was. She lied about that.” I know I’m scrambling for any semblance to prove my point, but I don’t care.
Shark being on her side after everything she did to me is pissing me off.
“And she came after me for a fuck and a story like all the other wannabe WAGs. She’s a con woman and she’s conned you too. Maybe you’re losing your touch.”
This time I rise out of my chair, the need to move too much, and the leg bouncing wasn’t cutting it. I can’t afford to question myself. I barely survived the last time, and the only reason I came through it was because I was justified in what I said to her.
“Okay.” Her voice is steady and quiet, making me even more anxious about what she’s going to say next.
“She knew who you were, but what’s to say she came after you for a fuck and a story.
Did she ever write a story about your time together?
She had the perfect opportunity. She used to work under an alias.
She could’ve signed your NDA with her legal name and used the alias to write her story. Did she?”
She sits back in her chair and folds her arms over her chest smugly. She’s making me angry but not at her, at myself. I should’ve said no and walked out instead of rehashing this shit.
“No. She never did. The first story described me and my assets in detail. I did actually sleep with that WAG. But the second story, it was made up but she left some key information out. Things she would’ve known about my assets that would’ve only come from her.
” I’ve tried not to dwell on this point for years now.
The original story was before my piercings.
The second story never mentioned them even though I know she knew all about them.
She’d traced her fingers and her tongue over them enough times.
Emilia nods, not needing any more information. “How did you two leave things?”
“For fucks sake, Shark, do you want a fucking blow by blow or something? After I caught her with her editor I accused her of sleeping with me for a story. I called her a whore. Changed my number. Moved into my house and made sure there was no way for her to ever contact me again. I haven’t seen her since. ”
I blow a breath out and hang my head. I’m not proud of my reaction, but I was mad.
Furious is more like it. We’d spent the whole time laughing, falling in love—well I did at least—and it burnt like a motherfucker knowing it was all a sham.
I thought I’d found someone I could connect with.
Someone I could talk to. I know it was only a couple of months, but it meant something to me.
The eternal grump had something to make him smile about for a change.
And it was all a smokescreen. It wasn’t real.
“You’re lucky. I would’ve pierced your skin with my Louboutin and then walked away without a backwards glance.” I shoot a look at Emilia, shock taking over my features as she shakes her head. “You basically accused her of being a prostitute, Owen. That’s not okay.”
The vehemence in her voice tells me just how much she dislikes what I’ve told her, and I’m lost for words. I did do that, but I was justified wasn’t I? “Her boss told her to secure a story with me, and she fucked me for said story. I was within my rights.”
“No, you weren’t. I know you’re trying to justify your actions right now, but believe me, you weren’t justified at all. The only thing you had a right to be pissed off about was that she lied about knowing who you were. That’s it.”
“She wrote a kiss-and-tell on me—”
She holds her hand up to stop me. “Listen.” Her tone is back to placating.
“I happen to know that for the last six years she’s been building her reputation as a serious journalist. She was hand picked to cover the press coverage for the Masquerade ball, she handled Cleo and Antony’s ‘reveal’ as a couple piece perfectly, and I trust her. ”
Emilia’s information has me reeling. It’s sending my memories into a tailspin.
She asked to explain in the car, and I didn’t let her.
What would her explanation have been? Should I have let her tell me what was going on before accusing her of using me?
Fuck! I hang my head and grab the back of my neck. Irritation running through my veins.
“Maybe you agree to meet with her about this series, Owen. Clear the air. Who knows? You could even become friends. We could get a lot of endorsement deals out of this. A lot of work for after you retire, whenever that is. What do you say?”
I don’t want to meet with her, but I also don’t not want to meet with her. I wasn’t exaggerating about our time together, it was the best time of my life until it wasn’t. Maybe we could…
“No. I won’t meet with her.”
I turn on my heel when a loud feminine laugh catches me unaware.
“That’s a shame. And after I travelled all this way too, Owen. Maybe I need to buy you a whiskey to loosen you up again.”