No Strings Attached

Chapter Twenty-Two

"You sit here and act like you own the goddamn world, like you're the best at what you do, but really, you're just working twice as hard as someone would with a real talent to try and make up for what you know you lack."

I can't move. I can't speak. I can only stare at her, frozen.

I want to yell or snap back. I want to tell her she's wrong, but I can't.

She walks closer to me, smirking now. "You're going to resign as Giovanni's publicist. If you don't, I will blow this up into epic proportions. Journalists, tabloids, news stations, the internet. I know you know I can do it too. There won't be a single person of consequence that will not know about your murderous father and suicidal ex-husband. Not one. I wonder how many will want you to represent—"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

My head turns, finding Giovanni, phone in hand, standing in the hallway. I feel no pleasure in finding him there, aware now that he's probably heard all, if not most, of what she said. His eyes are firmly on Lola, full of disbelief, anger.

She exhales. Oh, now she's nervous. "Giovanni—"

"Get out."

"She started to insult me. I couldn't just let her—"

He grimaces. "What are you? Fucking two?"

"Giovanni! You lied! You've been blackmailing me with fake information!"

"And you know this how? Because you break into my house and rummage through my things to try and find fucking evidence?" She stares at him as he walks up to her slowly.

"That wasn't blackmail." He holds up his phone. "This is."

An abusive, alcoholic father who killed your mother in a car accident. He went to jail, and you were left with no one. Not even your family wanted anything to do with you, so you head to the big city at seventeen, where you shack up immediately with another abusive, alcoholic man- no doubt the daddy problems spurred that one on-

He presses stop.

Her eyes are wide with shock at the sound of her very own voice recording. "Giovanni."

His glare is lethal. "Make a single move against my publicist, and I swear to you, I will make sure the right people see this. I will personally ensure you don't get another goddamn job in this industry for the rest of your life. You hear me? You go after Scarlett, and your career will be over, Lola."

Her lip begins to tremble. She looks at me, and I hold her gaze silently. She looks back to Giovanni.

He stares at her with disgust. "Get out of my house before I call the cops."

Like a dog with her tail between her legs, she hurries from the living room in haste. I hear the door slam behind her and flinch at the sound. My eyes, frighteningly alert, flicker to Giovanni, who presses his hand to his face, pushing his hair back.

There's only one thought on my mind.

Run.

I leave the food at the table abruptly, my feet nearly sprinting for the exit to this place.

"Scarlett."

I shake my head as he reaches out for me, pushing his hand away, just needing to get to the door.

"Scarlett, let's talk about this."

I scoop up my bag from the table, growling when I feel him grab me. I spin back to him, my heart crushing my chest. I've never been more humiliated.

I never wanted him to know about my past... about me.

"Scarlett, stop running. It's out. I know now. I want you to stay."

"This, Giovanni, this is why I didn't want this to happen," I snap, holding back tears. "I should have never let it get this far."

"This has nothing to do with you and me."

"I didn't want you to know!" I shout, my voice cracking. "I didn't want anyone to fucking know about this. I never told anyone! Not Dixon, not Norman! No one! I made sure I—"

He clasps my face tightly, and I close my eyes, tilting my face away. "She was sickening to you, Scarlett. I know that, and I can't even imagine how you must feel, but running to your hotel or to the airport isn't going to change anything that's happened!"

I shake my head defiantly.

"If you go, I'm going to follow you anyway, so you might as well stay here instead."

"I want to be alone. I need to be alone."

"Then be alone here," he argues in a rush. I open my eyes slowly, feeling unable to look at him. I see the questions, the desperation, and yes, the pity in his eyes.

He'll never see me the same again.

I pull away from him, walking back into his house without a word.