Chapter Twenty-Three

I'm showered and dressed in clean clothes by afternoon. My mom and Tonya have already been by, and I cried some more. Mom had only heard that I got cut. I told her the whole story, and she is vowing to spend her entire savings on a lawsuit. Tonya is vowing bloody revenge via cupcakes or something. I have to make sure no one gets poisoned.

Luckily CeCe is already on the case. I have an appointment in the morning with someone she swears will chew through whoever Pinnacle sends in. They've already accepted me as a client in what they call a wrongful termination lawsuit, though I haven't exactly been fired. It's something they can work through, they promised me. In addition, CeCe has vowed to sell all her shares in Pinnacle and advise others to as well.

I am unsure as to the legalities of that. Stocks aren't my thing. She might spend some time in the Martha Stewart wing of a prison, but I assure you she will do it with style.

I'm alone again as the afternoon wears on, sitting on my fire escape and watching the people walking by, a mug of tea my mom made for me in my hands. My aloneness is something I feel so sharply. I've lived by myself for years, but I wouldn't have called myself lonely. I feel the singularity of my existence now. I have friends and family, but without him I feel lonely. In the course of a few weeks that man became something necessary to me.

I sit here wondering if he's already on a plane for his home. I'm angry and restless, and there's a part of me that simply hopes he's okay. He was put in a position where he thought there was only one way out. Responsibility forced him to choose between his heart and his duty. He's a good king.

Can I blame him? Yeah. Irrational me can blame his ass all day long. The trouble is the reasonable me keeps showing up.

I think this is the first time I've really been in love because no matter what he did to me, I still want the best for him. It would be different if he cheated or lied. But he didn't. Circumstances happened, and he reacted like a king instead of a man because that's what he is.

I didn't pick a normal man to love. I picked one whose entire existence is dedicated to his people, to a crown. I thought I could help ease that burden for him, could work beside him so he would know he wasn't alone.

I feel tears well again when I hear a knock on the door. Will I ever stop crying?

My girls are back and earlier than expected. They promised they would return this evening with the finest New York street foods and the cheapest bottle of wine the bodega beneath me offers. We're going to sit and watch crap TV, and they will get me through another night.

I kind of want to be alone but I know how awful I would feel if one of them were in trouble and I wasn't allowed to help. So I sigh and stand up and wriggle through the window, not bothering to close it behind me. The air is warm and feels oddly fresh to me. I'm back in my tiny apartment, all the glamour of the Upper East Side left behind. I'm just me again, and now I have to figure out who this me is. The me without Luca. All I know about her right now is she cries a lot and she's not going down without a fight.

I set my mug on the counter and open the door, expecting to see my besties. "You're…not who I expected. How did you find me?"

Patrick stands in my doorway. Outside of work he's far more stylish. He wears perfectly pressed slacks and a bright blue polo under a fleece hoodie I've seen recently on several young stars. He's traded in his sneakers for a pair of designer loafers, and his hair is a bit curly when he doesn't slick it back. He's a hottie when he's not at work scowling at everyone. "I was your boss. I had all your paperwork. Besides, even if I hadn't known, I could have done this thing called looking you up. Unless you've recently joined a witness relocation program. Which you haven't. Can I come in?"

I stare at him for a moment. "You look different."

"I'm not working," he states flatly. "When I'm not working, I tend to like to be me. Are you going to leave me standing out here? You know you kind of owe me since you cost me my job and likely my career."

I feel my jaw drop even as I open the door and allow him entry. "What was I supposed to do? Let him rape you? Sorry. I didn't realize that was part of my contract."

He stalks in and glances around. "You live here?"

"For now. Maybe not much longer. Don't know if you heard but my ass got fired, too."

His expression goes grim. "Yeah, I did hear that you got cut from the show. Lily's a friend of mine. She's still working. I told her not to quit so she can give me all the gossip."

It's good to know he has someone on the inside. I wish I did. "Then you probably know more than I do since I got blindsided."

"You had to realize what was going to happen when they let me go," Patrick argues. "You had to know they would go into protective mode. It's a classic tactic for any large corporation."

"I've never been in the position before," I admit.

"What did you say to him after I left?"

"I was scared so I went along with what he told me."

He flushes, his cheeks going bright red. "And what did he tell you? That I wanted it? That we were having an affair?"

I didn't want to go into the specifics and make him feel worse than he already does. "Something like that."

He stares at me for a moment like he's trying to figure me out. "You should have believed him. It would have been easy to, and it would have saved you a lot of trouble. Why did you think it was nonconsensual? We could have been pretending."

"You weren't pretending."

"You can't know that. If you went along with him, why did they fire you? I know why they fired me. He didn't want to get caught again so he got rid of the temptation, as he put it," Patrick explains. "You must not have sold him. You're not exactly an actress. He knew you knew, and that's why you got the boot. Lily told me she knew something was up when the producers took the king into private meetings most of the day. The two dates they were filming got cut way short. They must have been worried he would react poorly to you being let go."

"They had to convince him to let me go." I realize why Patrick looks different. Why he's acted the way he has. "You dress down so he won't think you're dressing for him. How long has it been going on?"

"I met him last year on a set and he asked me out. I told him I don't date married, straight men and that was that," he says. "Then I got this job. I thought since it was a large shoot, I would be okay. I can get a dude's coffee, but he started asking me to talk to him privately."

Patrick's eyes close, and his chest moves as he takes in a deep breath. A long moment stretches between us, and I know he's making a decision. He'll either bring me in or push me away, and I'm almost certain he'll select the latter. He seems to have learned that it's better to protect himself than to trust others. His eyes open, and he turns to the window. "I need air."

I follow him out on the tiny fire escape, and we sit for a moment, our shoulders pressed together as the hum of the crowd forms a soundtrack to this scene of ours.

"This would be a good place for a confessional," he says quietly. "I mean if you could get a camera out here and it wouldn't drive the sound person up the wall. The light at this time of day is excellent. It's an extremely New York place to confess your secrets."

"You don't have to confess anything." I know what I saw, but I also know that it's sometimes hard to admit that you're a victim. "I'm sorry if I caused you trouble. I didn't mean to. I thought I was helping you."

He growls a little. "I keep trying to poke holes in your goody-two-shoes persona."

I'm offended by that. I recently had a torrid affair with royalty. I should get some cred for that. "I don't have a persona, and I'm certainly not a goody-two-shoes. What does that even mean? Everyone wears two shoes. I would hope they're good."

He snorts at my rebuke. "It's an old saying. My parents are in their eighties. They're actually my grandparents. Mom died and Dad hit the road, and I was a two-year-old left with super-conservative grandparents who were looking forward to retirement."

And he was gay, which had to be hard on him. "I'm sorry."

For the first time he smiles and there's no wariness behind it. "Don't be. They were great. They loved me and supported me and they were…a little shocked when I first came out, but then those two people who went to church every Sunday were taking me to pride parades. My dad…I call him dad because that's who he is…told me I shouldn't ever be ashamed of what God made me. And then he promptly told me I couldn't be alone with any male friends in his house. He was probably right about that. That door being open saved me many a misstep."

It's the first time he sounds like a genuine person to me and not a walking ball of irritation. "I'm glad to hear that."

"Anyway, sometimes I sound like an old dude because I'm around old people most of the time. I like to listen to their lives. They have a lot to say, but not many people listen. They would absolutely call you a goody-two-shoes and tell you you're na?ve." He rests his head back. "I assumed you would think I wanted it."

"Why would you assume that my eyes don't work?" I ask. "I saw you. You were not consenting."

His gaze turns my way. "Ani, do you think this hasn't happened before? Joe Helms is one in a long line of predatory men who think anyone beneath them is theirs for the taking. The funny thing is when I work for an out gay director, I never have trouble. It's the ones in the closet who think they can take whatever they want and have zero consequences."

"And you're stuck in the job because if you quit or cause trouble, you might not get another one." I know the business. "I don't know if he bought my act or not. There's a whole lot more to the story. I called the CEO of Pinnacle and told her what happened. I was literally there to find out if Joe was having trouble. She thought he was harassing women."

He whistles. "That explains a lot. I have to admit I was surprised when you took the job. I assumed you were there for some weird reason that was likely about watching me. Paranoid, I know, but it wouldn't be the first time. I was probably awful to you because I suspected you were there for nefarious reasons."

I'm curious. "Why would you think that?"

"I asked around. You're way overqualified. You should have been the boss, though even that would have been a step down for someone like you. So I didn't trust you."

"Well, I was there for something other than a paycheck, so you were right about that," I admit. "Are you still mad?"

"I'm not mad. I'm at a loss. No one's ever done anything like that for me. The couple of times I complained I was either let go or told to keep my mouth shut because I'm a man and no one is going to believe I didn't want a little sex."

My heart hurts for him. "I'm sorry. I believe you."

"I know, and that's both comforting and scary," Patrick admits. "What did they do to you? What did they threaten you with? Did they find out you were hooking up with the king on the sly?"

It's my turn to be surprised. "How did you know that?"

He gives me his dumbass-said-what look. "Anika, why do you think I took that pink bear out of there? You were the only one with a bear in your room. I need you to put on your thinking cap for this one."

Revelation dawns on me, and I realize Patrick saved me from a much worse possible fate. I also feel some relief because Luca isn't the one who told them. They already knew. They might have even used that footage to get Luca to agree. "It was a nanny cam."

He points my way. "She shoots, she scores. I can't believe you didn't catch that trick. Man, if something shows up in your room on a shoot like that, you have to suspect there's a hidden camera. You were the golden girl of that shoot. They wanted something on you in case they needed leverage. I know these particular producers and they're usually cool, but there's money on the line this time. I took the camera but it had a wireless connection, so me destroying it didn't destroy what they already had on you."

But he'd hauled that dumbass bear out of there before the night Luca and I made love for the first time. I'm shaking slightly as I put a hand on his arm. "Thank you, Patrick. All they would have caught was us watching TV on his tablet and a couple of make-out sessions."

"But they would have gotten more if I hadn't ridden in like the white knight I am?" he asks as though he already knows the answer.

I nod. "A lot more. I loved him."

Patrick sighs, and his expression is softer than I've seen before. "See. That's na?ve right there, and Anika, I wish it had worked out for you. I'm sorry. You can tell them I won't talk. Get your job back and maybe you can get your man back, too."

As if. "He's not my man if he can't stand up for what's right. And I don't want a job where I have to be silent. You should know I've already contacted a lawyer."

He turns, looking me straight in the eyes. "It's not going to work. Any lawyer you can afford will be easily defeated by the unholy amount of money Pinnacle can throw their way."

"It took a long time to bring Weinstein down, but they did it. Two women reporters risked their careers to do it. Nothing changes if we aren't willing to take a risk."

"They were getting paid to do that job," he counters. "I don't know about you, but I don't have the money for a lawyer. They've already reached out to me with a piece of crap offer."

My heart clenches. I might end up the loser in this war. The only one who loses it all. "What did they offer?"

"Twenty thousand if I sign an NDA." He sighs. "I could use that money."

If he won't talk, then I have no leverage. I'm nothing more than a bitter voice speaking out against a man who likely turned me down. That's how they'll play it, and they'll use the show to paint me as the worst woman in the world. I'll be getting the villain edit.

"But I think I can use my freaking dignity more," he says firmly. "I talked to my parents, and they want me to go after him. They said a lot of stuff about David and Goliath and how no matter what I'll rest better if I fight so no one else has to go through this again. It'll be easier if I'm not alone."

I squeeze his arm. "You're not alone."

He nods, and there's a sheen of tears in his eyes. "I knew you would be trouble, Fox."

So much trouble. At least I have some good news. "And don't worry about money. My best friend has this mentor and she has mountains of cash that she likes to spend…well, mostly on shoes and her dog, but occasionally she'll take up a cause. She also thinks Jessica Wallace is a faux feminist. Jessica thinks she's stepping on a PA with no power, but she's about to find out she's really fighting CeCe Foust."

His eyes widen. "Are you kidding me? The CeCe Foust? Billionaire tech investor?"

"Yep. I've known her since I was in high school and she scared the crap out of me," I admit. "She mostly calls me Ivy's Little Blonde Friend, but she slipped up today. She knows my name."

It had been oddly satisfying to hear after all these years.

His jaw tightens, and I can see him getting emotional. "We have a chance?"

"We have a chance. Someone is going to contact you tomorrow about taking in your story," I admit. "I should have called but I was busy crying."

"Because you loved him."

"Because I loved him."

He puts an arm around me, the gesture awkward as though giving affection isn't normal for him. "Thank you, Ani. Thank you for seeing me. I'm sorry about the king."

"I hope he picks Shelby and she makes his life hell." I don't, but I need some bravado right now.

"No, you don't." He sees right through me.

We sit there as day becomes night and get ready for the fight.