Chapter 30

I’d woken whenLucasnuckout at 6 am to go to qualifying. He sent me a text once he’d departed.

LUCA: Take the day off. I’ll make an excuse for you. Maybe avoid the internet for the day.

He’d helped me turn my notifications off after I showed him my laptop screen without saying a word.

Did that mean there were more articles? I knew how these things worked. One newspaper reported on it and though another might not have any more details, they would report that someone else had reported on it.

It was ridiculous.

This was exactly how it had gone forVinny.

When the picture of us leaked. The one making the rounds again.

But I lifted the lid of my laptop, took a deep breath and typed my name.

To stare at the picture I had sentRaay. Me, lifting my boob in my crop top for my brother to get the tattoo in the shot. There was a circle of it zoomed in.

“Okay,” I muttered to myself before pressing on the article it had been attached to. My heart sank.

Publicist ROMANTIC with Client NixonArmas .

I should have shut the laptop down and thrown it out the window into the pool. I should have done anything other than continue reading.

A close family friend of theQuinnsdisclosed that NixonArmas, 27, and Olivia Quinn, 29, are in a relationship and he has met her family.

Scrolling further down, there was the worst of it.

Amongst the upcoming trial that Quinn is a witness for, what is most surprising is the rumours she went to the newspaper to disclose the allegation of a woman being raped byVinnyGarvs.

And, like that, I was the villain.

I was the bad guy.

I knew it even as I clicked on a YouTube video by a gossip socialite. He had posted a couple of hours ago and it had already racked up36kviews.

Sniffling, I watched it, tears blurring my vision.

The video started with him side-eyeing the camera dramatically before summarising what the news had already told the public. Then he said, “I’m just going to say it. Why make this come out now? Why do that to your client?” I pulled out my suitcase from the wardrobe and started to pack as he spoke. “NixonArmas— you know, the bad boy motorbike racer who would make anyone drop their underwear — was getting such good press. Did you see that stunt with the kid on the bike the other week?” He kissed his fingertips as I threw my clothes in without care. “Chef’s kiss. But this? While Nixon has a girlfriend?”

I tutted. I should have listened to Nix. If we’d officially announced their break up this mess might not be so bad.

“Why come out with this when theGarvstrial is so close? And if she’s sleeping with her current client willingly, maybe she—”

There was banging on my door. Constant banging. I shut the laptop and tightened my dressing gown around myself.

Criswas about to say I couldn’t complete my notice period. OrEmericfromPrixtonwas about to fire me before I’d even been hired.

I might feel like I’d been hit by a truck, so maybe I should just get hit by the train to finish me off.

I’d rather take it all in one go.

But when I opened the door, it was a red-eyed, leathered NixonArmas.

He inhaled on seeing me and stepped inside the room, closing the door behind him.

It was 10 am. He should still be qualifying. In fact he should be qualifying right now.

He continued to look at me as I tried to speak, to ask him what he was doing, if he knew where he was.

At least he’d taken off his gloves. He reached for my hands. “Livie, I am so sorry. I didn’t realise — I couldn’t believe—”

I only nodded, stepping back and dropping his touch.

“Are you okay?”

I shook my head, biting my lip to stop the sob as my eyes burned.

“Fuck, of course you’re not. I didn’t realise— I can’t believe you gave that up for me. For me.Livie, you shouldn’t have—”

“But I did,” I whispered. “And I’d do it again.”

It was then that the sobs couldn’t be contained. I fell into his cold leathers and let everything go. Choked screams accompanied my cries.

He held me close, wrapped me up in his arms, stroking my back .

When my stomach hurt from how much I had cried, he guided me to the bed, where he tucked me in. He went to get in with me but I shook my head. “Not in those. They’re cold.”

He chuckled sadly and unzipped his leathers.

A fleeting thought struck me. Nix wasn’t at qualifying .

People would put two and two together, probably to make six, but this wouldn’t help our case.

“You’re not going to qualify for tomorrow’s race.”

“Don’t care,” he said, struggling to get off his boots in his hurry. “You’re my priority. You’re all I care about. There are millions of fans, thousands of races, hundreds of teams, butLivie, there is only one you. I will always choose you, it’s not a question.”

In just his boxers and top — all he ever wore under the leathers — he got into bed with me and pulled me close. I had no tears left to cry, my body was heavy with exhaustion. Each blink hurt.

“You’ve already missed so many points.”

I felt him shrug against me, stroking my hair like my dad used to. “There are other championships. I can make up the points. But this, and here, is where I need to be.”

“People will question where you are,” I told him.

“I think it will be pretty obvious where I am,” he said softly.

“You look like you’ve cheated on Clara.”

“We’ll handle it,” he said and kissed my forehead. “I know you’re great at your job, but how about we talk about you for a minute?”

I shuffled closer to him. “What is there to say?”

“So much,” he said. “There is so much. Starting with I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I put you in this situation. I’m sorry for not listening. What you said last week… you were right; I’ve never been cared for like how you care for me. I don’t think I’ve given anyone the chance. Now, please let me care for you the same.”

“I just want to sleep,” I sighed. My eyes were so heavy.

“I promise you can in a minute,” he said, but the strokes of my hair were helping me drift off. “Livie, do you have a therapist?”

I was suddenly very awake. “No.”

After Dad’s death, I’d gone for a session. Then, after the funeral, I’d started to see someone else. I’d gone for a month. Then, when I thought I felt better, I stopped going.

I was fine. I was going through the motions. I was fine .

His voice became awkward. “Do you think maybe… that would be a good idea? Someone to talk to?”

“Talking to people is what got me in this mess,” I snapped.

“No,” he said softly. “I am what got you in this mess. Me.”

“It was my decision,” I argued, placing my legs between his to warm up.

He rested his head atop mine. “Okay, let’s move on to what we do.”

“A therapist might be a good idea,” I admitted because I didn’t know what we did from here. I didn’t know anything out of this bed, my hold on him and the fact my life was now in shambles. “My attacks have been so bad this year.”

“I can sort that,” he said, his nod against my head. “I’ll get some names together and you can pick whoever you want.”

“People know we’re together,” I sighed.

It was nearly three months since Clara’s crash, but that was still too soon.

“We can deny it if you want,” he said on a particularly slow stroke of my hair. “If that’s what you want. But one day soon we’re going public. The world will know about us.”

But… not now. Not when I could still lose my job if I hadn’t already. Not when he might just be seen as the next client I tried to fuck over. I would look like a fame-hungry wannabe.

“I’m just… I’m worried about what my reputation will do to your career.”

He inhaled deeply. “Livie, you need to stop worrying about me. We need to think about you. Okay, actually, let’s think about if I were you. Think of yourself as a client. What would you do?”

I thought it through, wrapping my arm around him. “It depends if this just goes away or not. If it doesn’t, I’d do my own trial on my character. Ask people to come forward with support. And then release a statement.”

“So that’s what we’ll do,” he said and kissed my head again. He stilled, lips still on my skin. “Were you planning on going somewhere?”

“I was going to go to London,” I told him. “To my brother’s. I’m pretty sure it was either my mum or David who spoke to the press. So not there.”

He held me tighter, protective. “What about our house?”

I pulled back to look at him. “In Chelsea?”

“Yes,” he said. “Or my place in France.”

“I want to be close to my brother,” I said. “And the trial is next week.”

My heart fluttered in my chest and I swallowed harshly.

“Do you have to go?” he asked, resting his cheek on mine.

I nodded into him.

“Okay, so we’ll go home to Chelsea. You can get lost in as many murder documentaries as you like,” he said, pushing my hair back from my face. “I can even hire an acting school to create a fake murder you have to solve. It was my plan for your birthday, but…”

I kissed him. A delicate kiss, a breath on the lips.

“I love you, Livie.”

His arms were warm as they wrapped me up. Protected me. “I love you, too.”