Reed scrubs the stubble on his chin. “Shit. Maybe I should warn Isabel about him. Or at least, that a potential shit storm is coming her way. I don’t know when she’s planning to marry him, but she can’t go through with it.”
“No, Reed. Please. I’m trusting you by telling you about this article. CeeCee told me not to tell anyone. And she specifically told me not to let Isabel find out about it, because she’s worried Isabel might run to Howard and warn him. And then who knows what Howard might do? What hush money payments he might make to the witnesses I’m going to try to interview?”
Reed looks physically nauseated. And my stomach twists in response.
“If you’re thinking of asking me not to write this article, then don’t. Just like you won’t compromise your business judgment for anyone, not even someone you love, I won’t compromise my journalistic integrity. This is going to be a huge story. I can feel it. So, please, don’t ask me to choose between my love and loyalty to you, and your loyalty to Isabel, versus my convictions and ambition and moral code.”
Reed’s face softens. He smiles and takes my hand. “So feisty. I love it.” He sighs. “Sweetheart, I wasn’t thinking, even for a second, of asking you not to write this article. If Howard has done any of this stuff, then I want him taken down, every bit as much as you do.”
I exhale with relief. “Really?”
“Of course.”
“I thought, maybe, since he’s Isabel’s fiancé, and you obviously still care about her, you wouldn’t want her hit by any sort of scandal.”
“I’d rather she’s embarrassed by a scandal than married to a monster.” He touches my cheek. “And let me be clear about something else, my love. I still care about Isabel. I’m still her friend, whether she believes that or not. But at every turn, at every fork in the road, I’ll always, always choose you, and us, and our love, over Isabel or anyone else. Every fucking time. That’s what I was trying to tell you by sending you that surveillance video. I had the idea to send it to you days ago. But I only did it when I was finally ready to trust you, completely, with the information. Besides trying to vindicate myself, I was telling you I pick you—I pick us—over protecting Isabel’s secret.”
I hug him. “I love you.”
“I love you. I choose you, Georgie. Above anything and everyone else.”
I kiss his cheek. “I choose you too.”
“Write this article about Devlin, baby. Take him down. I’ll be with you, cheering you on, every step of the way.”
I take a deep breath to quell the surge of adrenaline I’m feeling. “I’m so excited. I really think this article is going to be huge. Plus, I think writing it will give me some much-needed closure about Gates, you know? I need that so much.”
Anguish flickers across Reed’s chiseled face. He lets out a long, controlled breath. “There’s something I need to tell you, love. Something about Gates.”
My stomach drops into my toes. “About Gates?”
He touches my chin. “Come on. We’ll talk about it over dinner. Amalia left food in the fridge for the weekend. Let’s eat and have a really nice bottle of wine—and I’ll tell you everything.”
Chapter 18
Reed
“Have you ever heard the term ‘white-hat hacker’?” I ask.
Georgina and I are dressed in soft clothes now, sitting at my kitchen table with one of Amalia’s meals and a bottle of red. And I’m nervous. Yes, I know Henn is completely trustworthy. Even more so than a priest or lawyer. But Georgie doesn’t know that. What if she finds out I told Henn about Gates, out of pure necessity, and decides, once and for all, she can’t trust me to keep a promise? If me telling Henn about Gates is the straw that breaks Georgina’s back, and she leaves me again—for good, this time—after I’ve said those three little words to her—words I’ve never said to another woman—then I’m positive I won’t survive it.
Georgina says, “White-hat hackers are the ones who help companies find vulnerabilities in their online systems, so the bad guys can’t hack them.”
My heart is thundering. “That’s right. Well, Henn is one of the best white-hat hackers in the world. Sometimes, he does favors for good friends, including me. In fact, if he believes in the cause enough, he’ll even don a grey—or maybe even black—hat, on occasion.”
Georgie lights up. “Oooh! You think maybe Henn would hack