Blackmail
RILEY
The house is quiet when I let myself in.
Easton’s flight lands in three hours. I’ve already planned the evening around it. Dinner, the good wine, and the conversation we’ve been ignoring all week since Mason.
Watching him get on that bus to Chicago was all I needed to know that I had to come out with the truth. Not just to him, but to my brother.
And whatever it is that he’s hiding, or that they’ve talked about behind me, he needs to come out with all of it too, because this thing between us…
It stopped being fake a while ago.
And then, seeing him on the ice, the way his eyes lit up the moment he recognized me with his jersey… the kiss…
I’m smiling from the thoughts alone.
Lord… I want this man.
I start humming a familiar tune, and put my keys in the dish by the entryway. I’m smiling, and halfway to the kitchen before I see him.
Preston is sitting on the couch.
He’s in a gray suit with no tie, one leg crossed over the other, both hands resting on his knee, comfortable, like the room belongs to him.
There’s a phone face-up on the coffee table in front of him.
He watches me stop.
“Hey, honey.” He smiles warmly. “You look...” He rises to his feet and walks toward me, his eyes slowly taking me in. “Amazing.”
He tries to reach for me, but I jump back.
My heart drops.
I glance at the door.
The keys. I left the keys in the dish. The door was locked, until I opened it.
I try to make sense of his presence, but he stays put, smiling.
“H-how did you get in here?”
“Does it matter?” He smiles. “I have my ways, Riley. You should know that by now.”
He walks back to the sofa and sits, then pats the cushion beside him.
“Sit down. I'm not going to touch you. I've never laid a hand on you. That was always beneath both of us.”
I don’t sit down. Would never put myself that close to him ever again. I need to get him out.
“You broke into our house, Preston. You need to leave. Easton will be home...”
“In three hours.” He doesn't sound the least bit rattled. “I know exactly when Easton will be home, Riley. That's why I'm here now instead of later.”
He reaches for the phone on the coffee table, turning it over idly in his hand.
“Because the moment he walks through that door, you'll stand behind him. He'll do the talking, and I'll lose the only conversation that matters.”
His eyes lock onto mine. “So... before he gets back.” A small smile tugs at his mouth. “Just you and me.” He pauses. “The way it should be.”
That makes me fume. He’s planned this. He has a motive.
“Get out, Preston.” My voice is firm. “Get out now, or I’ll call the cops on you for trespassing, breaking into a private property, and threatening my safety.”
Even I know it's a weak argument the moment the words leave my mouth, but I can only hope I sound more convincing than I feel.
A long beat passes. He doesn't say anything.
The smile has vanished from his face, and something colder settles into his eyes.
The mask is starting to slip.
For six years, I only caught glimpses of the man beneath it. Now I'm finally looking at the real Preston Sinclair.
And I've never seen him more clearly.
He rises to his feet again. Grabs the phone off the table and approaches, until we’re an inch apart.
Bile rises in my throat. The urge to step back is high, but I force it down and maintain my position.
I need to stand up to him. Show him I’m not his little puppet anymore. He can no longer toy with me.
“I think we've gotten off on the wrong foot, Riley. So let me be perfectly clear.”
He taps the tip of my nose with his index finger, like he's correcting a misbehaving child. “In a few minutes, you're going to realize you don't have a choice.” He lifts the phone.
“And the police...” A quiet chuckle escapes him. “They won't be able to save you. Or your little hockey hero. Not from what's about to happen if you don't listen to me.”
He gives the phone a small shake. “It's all here. The evidence that he's not the man he pretends to be. Not just to you, but to everyone.”
His thumb hovers over the screen. “One click, and it all goes live.”
He smiles. “His career changes overnight. His reputation goes with it. And once he realizes you were the reason...” He lets the thought hang between us. “He'll wish he'd never met you.”
He holds the phone out to me. “Go on,” he says softly. “See for yourself, my love.”
The mocking endearment drains the strength from my legs.
I know Preston. He never makes empty threats. And if he’s this smug, then he has something. Something really terrible.
I reach for the phone, but he retracts his hand.
“Watch.”
When he pushes it closer again, there’s a video playing on the screen.
It's dim and shaky. For a second, I can't make sense of what I'm looking at. Then it all clicks into place at once.
Easton.
He's in a dimly lit room with a woman. They're both naked.
I watch him lean over a table and inhale a line of white powder. The woman follows a second later. They laugh. They kiss. They do it again.
The video jumps. Now they're in bed together.
By the time it ends, my knees are threatening to give out.
My chest tightens, my heart hammering so hard it hurts to breathe.
“W-where did you get that?” My voice shakes, and there's no hiding it. I'm past pretending to be brave.
This… This is so much worse than I imagined.
Is this what he's been hiding from me?
Oh God...
And the video… It looks recent.
“Again, I have my ways, Riley. You should know that by now.” He chuckles as he steps closer, stopping just short of me. I can feel his breath against my skin.
His eyes lock onto mine. “I think you understand exactly what this means, honey. Easton isn't the man you think he is.”
He smiles. “And I'm not interested in playing fair.” His hand comes up to cup my cheek, holding me in place. His thumb brushes across my lips.
I jerk away, disgust curling through me, but his grip tightens just enough to stop me.
“The headline writes itself,” he says almost conversationally.
“Hockey Star Easton Blake Exposed for Using Drugs During the Season.”
A quiet laugh escapes him. “And you, my dear, will be caught right in the middle of it. The runaway Sinclair bride who threw away an honest man for a drug addict.”
He lets go and takes a step back. “Every game he's ever played will be questioned.
Every goal he'll ever score will come with an asterisk. His sponsors are already uneasy because of your little runaway-bride scandal. Add this in the middle of the season...” He spreads his hands.
“There isn't a version of Easton Blake that walks away from it.”
He tilts his head. “His contract has a morals clause.”
A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face. “They all do.”
The room is very quiet now.
All I hear is my ragged breath.
“One click. That’s all it’ll take, Riley. One click and Easton is done for.”
He glances at the watch on his wrist. “He’s about two hours and thirty minutes out. One click, and he’ll step out of that ice today, and never return. Never be seen on the streets. Buried for life, with an unforgettable story.” He snaps his fingers.
My throat is dry, a painful lump now settling there, but I force the words out.
“What do you want, Preston?”
He smiles. It’s crooked, but his eyes are gleaming.
“You come home. Tonight. Quietly.”
His tone is calm, almost reasonable. “You and I release a statement. A reconciliation. A difficult time. A private matter that's been resolved.”
He lifts the phone between us. “And this footage never existed.”
His thumb idly traces the edge of the screen. “It stays locked away on a drive in a safe. Your insurance. Mine.”
A faint smile tugs at his mouth. “And Easton Blake gets to go back to being a hockey player who had a strange few weeks with a troubled woman... and moved on.”
I can barely force the words past the knot in my throat.
“A-and if I...” I swallow. “If I refuse?”
“The moment those words leave your mouth...” He says it without the slightest hint of anger. “The video goes public.”
I think about the recording on my own phone. Preston in the locker room, threatening Easton. I could put it out right now. And it proves he’s a bastard, which isn't news, and it does exactly nothing to the video sitting in his safe.
One of us has something that ends a career. It isn't me.
The truth settles in.
Everything I’ve done in the last three months. Running away. Finding myself. Reconnecting with everything, and everyone I gave up… Easton did that for me.
I can’t let Preston take his life from him. Not for me.
My heart drops. My eyes sting with unshed tears threatening to spill, but I’ll never give him that. He’ll never see me cry.
He’s taken enough already.
I drag in a shaky breath, as I come to the decision that’s for the best.
“Give me a minute,” I say.
Something in Preston relaxes. He’s won and he knows it and he has the grace, at least, not to show it. “Of course. I’ll be in the car.”
He straightens his jacket, and walks out the front door like a man leaving a meeting, and I stand there with my whole life folding shut around me.
A stray tear slides down my cheek when he’s gone. The sob threatens to choke me but I swallow it. Not now. Not yet.
I drag in another breath and attempt to pull myself together. By the time I walk out the door, I do it empty-handed. I don’t take anything.
The clothes are his. The camera he gave me. The jersey with his number. I leave all of it, because none of it was ever mine, and because I can’t touch any of it without coming apart.
All I leave is a note. One that rips my heart out.
Easton,
I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore. The fake thing, the hiding, all of it. It was never going to be real and we both knew it. You gave me my life back and now I have to go live it. Please don’t come after me. This is what I want.
Thank you. For everything.
R.
I walk out to the car, and I get in beside Preston, and the door shuts. The gate slides back, and the house gets smaller in the side mirror, and it’s happening, it’s actually happening.
I’m leaving. No more Easton Blake.
This reality hits me hard, and the truth I’ve been fighting finally lands.
I’m in love with him. I’ve been in love with him for a while now. From the moment he placed that camera in my hands and handed me my life back.
And I told Mason it was fake.
That’s the thought that breaks me, quietly, with Preston six inches away and the city blurring past.
I press my forehead to the cool window so Preston won’t see my face as I fight the tears.
“You made the right choice,” he says.
I don’t answer him.
I did this for Easton, not for him.
That doesn't make it hurt any less.