Chapter 99 Lie to me.
CHAPTER 99
Lie to me.
SCARLETT – POINT OF VIEW
I inhale slowly, but I don’t know how to stop the panic building in me. It’s slow and softly swallowing me whole.
“The article has no substance. It’s just their perception, what they think is true, but it has no substance. You cannot let that get in your head, baby.” Roman whispers, and I look at him.
He takes my head and leads me to the bed. We’re alone. Everyone is gone.
“Say something, Scarlett.” He urges, running his thumb over my wrist.
I chew on my tongue and apologise, “I’m so sorry, Roman.”
He frowns, confused, “Sorry? What are you sorry for?”
How do I tell him that I’m sorry for everything? All this is my fault.
Emiliano wants him dead because of me. I know the method he’s using. It’s an isolation technique best known to Mafia Dons. When they have a target, they do not go for the target outright. Instead, they go around everything surrounding the target. They go for his job, and in Roman’s case, his spread-out company.
Roman is a very influential billionaire. His businesses span from the core holdings to finances and banking, then real estate and property, energy and infrastructure, technology and cybersecurity, and so much more. He has so much to lose, and I’m a risk. The gift that keeps on giving, except I’m a curse bundled tight and wrapped. He has built generational wealth and cannot be sunk. He’s not a tiny ship that can sink by this small current, but he still can be chipped away slowly. I cannot allow that.
Within me, rage sharpens through me. Who the fuck is Vanessa Hart, and what does she want from me? I need to know who she is and whether she works for Emiliano, but I do not have the resources to find out people’s identities. Roman does, but my interest will tick him off. The only person who will nestle my secrets properly is Adeline, but she isn’t to be trusted anymore. She called me a whore for hire. I might need to do this on my own. I can’t watch Roman fall.
“You have nothing to apologise for. You did nothing wrong. My career has been filled with countless people who want to take me down. This is a storm I’m willing to weather. They made a mistake going for you, and now, they’re going to pay for it. Do not worry, my love. I will not let anyone hurt you.” He assures me softly, caressing my cheeks as if I’m dearer than gold.
I nod, lean into his touch and ponder out loud, “The article spoke a lot about insiders. Do you think we have a traitor in our midst? Someone that’s selling information about us?”
He clenches his jaw, “Perhaps. If we do, I’m going to find them and make them beg for death. Do not worry. I have everything under control.”
I sigh, “Do you, though? You’re not supposed to go through this, so let me help you however I can. We’re … we’re partners, right?” My cheeks burn, and I look away from him. Our relationship still amazes me. We’ve been going steady for over a month now.
He chuckles and kisses me tenderly. He lingers only for a moment before pulling away, “We are partners. Why don’t you finalise the plans with Elena? I have to speak to the Union and wrap this nonsense strike thing up. This is a personal suite, so you can wait for me here.”
I nod. He kisses my forehead and gets up. Then, he walks away, and I watch him go.
Elena comes in immediately. She’s on the phone, agitated. She places a book on my lap and steps out onto the balcony.
I stare at what she has drafted out. A way to end this whole shenanigans: Fix the image. Yacht Party (Friday, mingle with guests, be the loved-up couple, make-out session, if possible, but be entangled in a way that doesn’t scream codependency.) Weekend retreat with the group (The last one is passed because we were in Italy, so hopeful I can lock down another one. Either way, we need more public sightings.) If a weekend retreat seems far-fetched, then visits to every single company and organisation (going together, photo ops, meeting people, must be seen together) Gauge out the articles, and then release a statement. A statement followed by a wedding photoshoot. We ice them out.
Well, this seems like a feasible plan. The execution has to be flawless.
Elena steps back into the room and bursts into a monologue, “We’re icing those motherfuckers out. We’re going to give them things to talk about, make it exciting for them. Soon, they’ll reach out to you, asking for an interview. I can’t wait. They think they have the story? Bullshit. If everyone is there, then they have nothing. I can’t wait to bury them in the fucking ground. They know that I am Roman’s head of PR, and they dared to throw a shot? Game on. I didn’t spend years in school to be defeated by a wannabe whistledown.”
She seems very passionate about it and almost excited.
“What do you need to make the execution flawless?” I ask, eager to help how I can.
“A big, beautiful smile, an unbothered aura, and the craziest fashion sense. The next couple of weeks are going to be filled with people looking closely at our business, so we become an open book.” She explains, waving her hands in the air.
I nod. Friday is just two days away.
“Alright. We’ll perfect everything.” I assure her and try to believe my own words.
“If only Eve could stop moving around and just settle for being Roman’s personal bodyguard. I can’t blame her for dreaming big, though, but she’ll find much more with us than with whoever. Maybe you can talk to her?” She asks, looking at me.
I nod, but make no promises. Eve and I are drifting apart. She’s busy with work, and I cannot blame her. This is my own work.
“Also, Scar, don’t take this the wrong way, but people are going to shine flashlights up our asses, and I’m ready to ride till dawn for you and Roman, but it’s important to be truthful with me. If I know everything I’m supposed to, I will be able to protect you. Just … don’t lie to me.” She whispers cautiously, almost gingerly.
I nod, but do not respond. I’m the architect of everything and need to fix it, but I cannot do it alone.