Faking Forever (First Wives #4)(77)

“So, Shannon, how is Victor handling the media coverage?”

“I think he kinda likes it.” Pictures of the two of them at the charity event were snagged from the GTF website and splashed on the cover of one of the most popular gossip magazines. Then two others picked up the information and ran with it on consecutive days. “The only reason I think it’s become a thing is because Paul announced his run for Congress.”

“That was my thought,” Lori said. “It will all blow over soon. It always does.”

“That dress was spectacular,” Trina told her. “Daring for you.”

Shannon sat back and grinned. “Hey, I sunbathe in the nude these days. I’m evolving.”

That brought a chorus of cheers and a new direction of conversation.

An hour after they finished their video chat, a call came through from an unknown caller. Shannon nearly let it go to voice mail before answering.

“Hello?”

“You raging bitch!”

Shocked silent, Shannon waited for some clue as to who was on the phone.

She didn’t need to wait long.

“You were screwing him all the time, weren’t you?” A woman, could have been Corrie, but didn’t sound like the soft, careful girl she’d met all those months ago.

“Who is this?” Shannon asked, her guard up.

“You told me to leave him, that he didn’t deserve me. All so you could snag your claws into him.”

Yup, it was Corrie. “That is not what happened,” Shannon said, trying to calm her down.

“Right under my nose. I feel so stupid. Which is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it? Now Victor won’t take my calls. You’re on the cover of those magazines with my fiancé when it should be me.”

“Corrie, calm down.”

“Don’t you fucking tell me to calm down. You’ve ruined my life. I’m the ‘blonde bimbo that was cast aside to make way for royalty.’” Corrie was quoting the article. The only way Shannon knew that was because Samantha Harrison had texted the quote and said, “Welcome to the monarchy.” They’d laughed about it.

“You and I both know that is not what happened. You walked out on him. We were all there.”

“You told me to.”

“I did no such thing.” This conversation was going nowhere.

“Yes, you did!” Corrie was screaming now.

Shannon pulled the phone away from her ear. “I’m hanging up, Corrie.”

“Don’t you fucking dare. I’m not finished—”

Click!

Shannon stared at her cell phone, wasn’t surprised when it immediately rang again. Unknown caller.

She let it go to voice mail.



Victor dropped the latest magazine with an article about Shannon on his desk. This time the images were mainly of her behind the camera as she took pictures of him at his doomed wedding.

Someone at the rehearsal dinner caught the two of them in the background of a selfie when Shannon had poured her drink all over him. It was out of focus and grainy, but it was definitely him with Shannon’s hands on his chest. She’d been attempting to apologize. The memory of the moment brought a smile to his face. She’d really hated him at that time.

Okay, maybe hate wasn’t the right word.

Irritated.

Which he deserved.

Only this picture accompanied an article with direct quotes from Corrie, according to the reporter, about Shannon stealing her man. There was a picture of Corrie in her wedding gown, an image he’d never seen, probably taken by one of her friends.

It was the ugliest article to date. While it didn’t touch Victor, he couldn’t help but wonder what it was doing to Shannon.

Every time he brought up the media, she waved it off. “I’m not a Kardashian. This will all blow over. Trust me. I’m used to it.”

Yeah, well . . . she might be used to it, but he wasn’t.

A knock on his office door had him putting the magazine aside.

Stephanie walked in with the daily agenda. Her gaze skidded past the magazine on his desk before she set the folder she carried right on top of it.

They went over his schedule, and she brought his attention to a summit meeting he normally attended in Asia the following week. “I’ve already booked the flights and hotels.”

“How many nights?”

“I have you flying into Beijing Sunday and leaving the following Saturday, per normal. Did you need me to change it?”

He shook his head. As much as he wanted to shorten the trip, he knew he couldn’t. With the new ban on plastic recycling imports going into China, his presence and keeping his finger on the pulse of the scrap metal industry in the country were imperative to his company, for all the employees that worked for him and depended on their paychecks to feed their families.

“Okay, I’ve scheduled our interpreter to meet you at the airport. All the files and articles that will be brought up are in there.” She pointed to the folder on his desk. “All translated and highlighted.”

“Perfect,” he told her.

She stood to leave and hesitated.

“Anything else?” he asked.

She glanced at his desk. “That one was mean-spirited.”

He looked at the garbage magazine under his mountain of work. “All lies.”