Fake (West Hollywood #1) -Kylie Scott Page 0,19

the white couch and stared at the ceiling. Never had I been in such a rotten and irate mood. Or at least, not in a really long time. I’d been reduced to a pair of tits and a punch line. A gossipy scandal and a sex crime. People’s online ugliness was the worst.

“I don’t know about that.” Mei shook her head. “Paddy really likes you.”

I wrinkled my nose. “How can you tell?”

“Trust me. I’ve worked with him for years. He rarely lasts past the second date, let alone actually allowing someone into his house.” Mei patted me on the shoulder. “Whatever your situation with him is, Norah, he’s choosing to allow it to continue. He wants you here. Don’t underestimate the importance of that salient little fact.”

“Hmm.”

“Do you want some liquor in your coffee?”

“No.” I sighed. “Thanks.”

Mei smiled. “Basically everyone under eighty with a cell has taken nudes at one time or another. Any puritanical assholes feigning outrage can go jump.”

It was nice having Mei at my side through this. Even if she was being paid to be there. I’d lost touch with my friends from college a long time ago. And work friends tended to drift off into the ether once you or they moved on to a new job. We were all like ships passing in the night on social media. Though it seemed we were communicating and keeping in contact, our relationships were pretty shallow, to be honest.

“I sent my first husband a shot of me doing a handstand in the nude,” said Angie. “It was for our anniversary. He said it was the best present he ever got.”

“That’s fantastic,” said Mei.

Heavy feet striding through the doorway announced Patrick’s return. I almost jumped up, ready to apologize again, when I stopped myself. Because hell no. This was not my fault and I’d done nothing wrong. Truth was, the fuckery had been done to me. Whatever the reason he’d run out of the house earlier, I would not say sorry. If he wanted me to leave, then I’d do so. And I’d try to repay the money somehow, some way.

God. What a mess.

If possible, he was even more beautiful than normal in all of his glowering brilliance. Hair in disarray as if his fingers had gone through it a hundred times or more. His gaze as somber as I’d ever seen it. It would hurt to get banished from his presence. For reasons far beyond the money.

“Talked to my lawyer. They’re doing their best to get the picture taken down, but . . .” He didn’t bother to finish.

“The internet is hard to fight,” said Angie. “Especially once something goes viral.”

“Thank you for trying,” I said.

“They’ll make a statement. Get the word out that if any more magazines or sites think of sharing it, then we’ll be taking legal action.” The set of his jaw was magnificent. “I trust that’s acceptable?”

I nodded.

“You shouldn’t have to put up with this shit. No one should.”

“We’re going with outrage?” asked Angie via the cell.

Patrick turned to me.

I took a deep breath. “I guess we are.”

“Yes,” hissed Mei.

“There’s something else.” He shoved a hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out a small box. He opened it to reveal dark blue velvet padding and a shining diamond ring. And the diamond was not small. “Norah, this is for you.”

“What the fuck?” I wheezed. My throat had closed up. Who even needed to breathe?

“That’s so shiny,” said Mei in obvious awe.

“What is it?” asked Angie. “What’s happening?”

“Norah and I are getting engaged,” announced Patrick. Like it was nothing. Like him getting down on one knee beside me was a simple everyday occurrence worthy of no more excitement or attention than taking out the trash.

“Patrick,” said Angie, “tell me you’re not serious!”

“This morning on the phone you said it was a good idea.”

“I was joking.”

He shrugged. “Well, I thought about it and decided it was the right thing to do.”

“But it’s so soon.”

Mei just smiled. “Well yeah, but I think it’s a great plot twist. They won’t have seen that one coming. I mean, everyone’s going to know why you proposed, given the timing. But it sends a wonderful standing-by-my-woman message.”

All I could do was shake my head. And try to breathe. Breathing remained an ongoing concern.

“Oh, good Lord,” said Angie.

“Say yes,” urged Patrick.

I had nothing.

“Fine. Whatever. Let’s do a close-up shot of you two holding hands with Norah wearing the ring. Just your hands,” said Angie. “We’ll post it on his Instagram. Something