Chapter 16
sixteen
. . .
An acid chill filled Harry’s stomach. “How the hell do you—”
He stopped and pulled his phone away from his face the second it dawned on him how whoever the American was had gotten his hands on the video.
His phone. It had been running hot for nearly twenty-four hours.
The charge kept running out, even though he plugged it in.
Those were all signs that malware had hacked into his phone.
He’d considered the idea the day before but dismissed it.
He should have known.
“Shit,” he hissed as he paced around the main room of his flat, rubbing the back of his neck to ward off the prickles forming there.
He’d had that text from Albion with a link that hadn’t led anywhere.
Only, it hadn’t been from Albion. The American must have been clever enough to make a dummy account with Albion’s name attached because he knew Harry would click a link from him.
It was the oldest trick in the book, and he’d fallen for it and been hacked like a kid with his first mobile phone.
“I see you grasp the seriousness of the situation,” the American said.
“Why don’t I just text that account number over and you can transfer the money at your earliest convenience.
” The man was so smug Harry wanted to either vomit or somehow reach through the phone and punch him hard enough to rearrange his face.
“We can get this over with nice and easy, and our little Nikky can go back to riding high on his unlikely success like nothing happened.”
“Bullshit,” Harry growled. “I want proof that you’ve deleted that video and any possible copy of it, otherwise you’ll just keep coming back for more.”
The American chuckled. “That’s a risk you’ll have to take.”
Meaning whoever the man was would never completely delete the video. He’d keep it around to dangle over Nikky’s career for the rest of his life.
With a jolt like being hit in the gut with a cannonball, Harry suddenly realized who he was dealing with. “Holberg,” he said, rage boiling within him.
The American chuckled. “So you’ve heard of me,” he said.
“Nikky told me all about how you’ve been harassing him for the past several months. You know stalking and blackmail are illegal, don’t you?” Harry wasn’t sure if they actually were, but it was satisfying to say all the same.
Satisfying but futile.
Holberg was more bemused than worried. “Five hundred thousand dollars for me to keep this dirty little video under wraps,” he repeated.
“And I must say, you’ve got a fabulous camera on your phone.
The picture is so clear and the details so vivid.
Our Nikky makes sounds worthy of a porn star when he’s got a dick up his ass. Well done.”
Harry had never known hate like he felt in that moment.
Entwined with that hatred was far too much helplessness.
Holberg had the video. He could release it at any second, and while Harry wasn’t sure it would destroy Nikky’s career completely, it would certainly cause problems. The film offer on the table that Nikky was so excited about could go away.
The golden boy image that had been thrust on him would vanish, too, but that didn’t feel like a victory at the moment.
And the video dropping on social media would tank his own reputation forever.
Not even Rudy would knock on his door to ask what projects he was working on and to welcome him back to the place he should have had all along.
The train company might even ditch Love on the Line as their key marketing song, drying up his royalties and his means of supporting himself.
Honestly, Harry didn’t care about himself. He cared about Nikky. He would rather have his entire life torpedoed than have Holberg embarrass Nikky for one second.
But paying off blackmailers never solved the problem, particularly when it came to digital videos. Once something hit cyberspace, it was there forever.
“What if I say no,” Harry said, still pacing, his gut still in knots.
“Then by tonight, the world will know that Nikky Smith is an enthusiastic bottom,” Holberg said.
Harry shrugged, even though Holberg couldn’t see his false bravado. “So what? We’ll put out a statement that the video is an AI deepfake.”
“There’s no way you can prove that.” Holberg’s voice was suddenly cold and serious.
“There’s no way you can prove it’s real,” Harry countered.
“Nikky’s fans will support the story that it’s an AI fake, even if you bring in experts to claim it’s real.
The more attention you draw to it, the more you’ll expose yourself.
You think your career as a so-called Hollywood reporter would withstand that kind of exposure? Nikky is the star, not you.”
Holberg met Harry’s speech with silence.
A second too late, Harry realized that was because his phone had run out of power and gone dead.
“Fuck!” He threw his phone hard against his sofa, then pushed both his hands through his hair. There was no way to tell how much of his counterthreat Holberg had heard. There was no way of telling how he would react or what he would do.
The whole situation was beyond fucked up.
“Is something wrong?” Nikky’s soft, vulnerable voice sounded from the edge of the hallway leading deeper into the flat.
Harry whipped to face him, and his heart nearly fell out of his chest. Nikky was like some sort of demigod from mythology in nothing but his boxer briefs, his face still slightly puffy and his eyes hazy from his nap.
His golden-blond curls were tousled from their early activities, and the hickey Harry had left on his neck the day before stood out against his flushed skin.
The man’s body was a work of art on display for Harry alone.
Harry was stunned to silence, not just by Nikky’s ethereal beauty, but by the conflicting need to protect his younger lover and the feeling that Nikky deserved to know what was going on.
Protectiveness won out over full disclosure.
“I think you should stay with me for the rest of your time in London, not just for a night here and there,” he said, forcing himself to smile as he crossed the room to draw Nikky into his arms.
“Yeah?” Nikky smiled, beautiful, innocent, and amorous.
“Yeah,” Harry repeated, then kissed him hard enough to dispel any potential worry Nikky might have had.
Who was he kidding? He needed to kiss Nikky hard enough to drown his own fear that everything was about to come crashing down for both of them.
“I’d love that,” Nikky said, circling his arms around Harry’s waist and grinning heatedly at him. “You might not be able to get rid of me once I’m moved in.”
Nikky’s grin instantly turned vulnerable. Harry knew him well enough to know why. Even the suggestion of a home where he was wanted probably nailed Nikky’s worst insecurities hard. That only made Harry’s heart bleed harder.
“I’ll take care of you,” he said, kissed Nikky again, then took a step back. “I swear to you, I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“I believe you,” Nikky said, head tilted down slightly so that he smiled impishly up at Harry through his long lashes, like the wickedest angel that had ever fallen from Heaven.
Harry couldn’t resist kissing him again.
He couldn’t stop his heart from pounding and his stomach from twisting either. He needed to tell Nikky everything about the phone call and about Holberg’s threat. He needed to let his lover know Holberg was holding them for ransom.
He would. He’d tell him everything. But not yet. Not until he was certain Nikky could handle it. He might even figure out how to tell Drew Oberlin first so he had backup when Nikky inevitably panicked about the whole thing.
He took a step back and sucked in a deep breath. “Right,” he said. “Let’s get showered and dressed and we’ll head over to the hotel to pack up your stuff.”
Only then did Harry realize he’d gone through the whole intense conversation with Holberg while nude. It was just one more thing that made the whole threat surreal.
Nikky headed back to the shower first while Harry plugged in his phone to get as much of a charge to it as he could before they headed out.
As much as sense told him to keep the phone turned off so Holberg couldn’t access anything else, another part of him was certain the man already had everything his phone had to give.
If there was any chance of the arsehole calling him back to make a deal, or make more threats, then Harry wanted to get that call.
One glance at his phone once it was plugged in showed Holberg hadn’t tried to call back yet.
As soon as he was showered and dressed along with Nikky, his phone had enough charge to leave the house. He tucked the device that had betrayed him into his back pocket as he and Nikky left the flat and headed for the Tube.
“I should be grateful for all the gifts life has given me,” Nikky said with innocent enthusiasm that deeply contrasted with the sense of doom roiling in Harry’s gut as they walked through Notting Hill. “This Lubavitch film could be everything for me. It’s a dream project,”
“I thought you wanted to focus on your music career instead of acting,” Harry said, fighting to seem casual and happy while darting looks around them into every alley and shadow like he was a member of His Majesty’s Secret Service.
“I do,” Nikky said with a shrug, thrusting his hands in his pockets as they turned a corner. “Or I did. But that was before Lubavitch’s offer came in.”
Harry dragged his eyes away from a mother and daughter shopping across the street who seemed to clock who Nikky was and smiled. “You didn’t think offers like that for juicy films or TV shows would come your way?”
Nikky looked adorably bashful. “I know, I know. Drew says I need to have more faith in myself and my talent all the time. My agent, Glen, keeps telling me offers are coming in like lightning, and he’s sent me scripts for some amazing stuff. I’m actually pretty booked for the rest of the year.”