Vipers and Virtuosos (Monsters & Muses, #2)(30)
But that doesn’t change the fact that it never should’ve happened in the first place.
Blowing out a breath, I squeeze the chair and lean into it. “Look, if this is about the tattoo, I—”
“The tattoo?” Boyd scowls, his mouth forming a harsh frown. “No, Riley, for fuck’s sake. This is about the fact that I woke up this morning to my sister’s face plastered all over the goddamn Internet, attached to claims of sexual assault by some celebrity I didn’t even know she knew. Fuck a tattoo.”
He pauses, tilting his head. “Actually, no, we’ll come back to that.”
“What?” My jaw drops, disbelief and confusion knotting inside my stomach. Reaching for my phone in the back pocket of my jeans, I quickly unlock it, opening up the first social media app my fingers find.
It’s the number one trending story.
Throat tight, I pull up the most popular article beneath the #AidenJamesIsOverParty hashtag, scanning the page.
A picture of my profile, as I stand at the East River while Aiden looks on, greets me at the top, and my insides wring together until I feel like I might explode.
“Early this morning, news outlets first reported the allegations of sexual assault and misconduct initiated by musician Aiden James, who is currently on tour promoting his most recent album, Rhapsodic Dreams, which hit number one on the best sellers chart in the US at its debut.”
Vomit teases the back of my throat, and my hands shake violently as I read the next paragraph.
“Though no charges have been made, authorities are looking into these allegations, which stemmed from an anonymous source stating that Mr. James disappeared from a charity banquet last night in order to engage in nefarious activities with a fan. Reportedly, the fan was not receptive to Mr. James’s advances, though we’ve not heard directly from the victim, who has yet to be named. More on this story as it develops.”
My heart pounds between my ears, and the phone falls from my hands to the floor. The clatter of glass hitting wood and shattering on impact almost drowns out the chaos forming in my head.
Like angry waves of deceit, reality crashes over me, and I sit stunned for several minutes, unsure of how to even proceed. My mind feels like a broken record, skipping on the portion of the article stating that I had a hand in this.
I didn’t tell anyone other than Fiona that I’d even been with him last night, and as far as we knew, no one but the girl at the dry cleaners spotted him while we were out.
Though, I can’t imagine she’d do something like this.
With tears stinging my eyes, I look up at Boyd. “I didn’t do it.”
He frowns. “What?”
Gesturing toward my cracked phone, I raise my brows, exasperation racing through me. “I didn’t… I didn’t contact anyone. The press, social media. I didn’t tell anyone this. That he hurt me.”
But it’s exactly what you get, little girl.
My mother’s voice rings louder than my anxiety, fueling the fire burning inside of me.
“So, it’s not true?”
“That he assau—” The word sticks in my throat like old syrup, and I choke over it. “No, god. Don’t you think I would’ve called you if he had?”
Relief seems to surge through him, and his shoulders slump as he releases a breath.
Fiona squeezes his arm. “I told you.”
“Needed to hear it directly from the source.” He scrubs a hand over his jaw, looking off into space as he thinks. “Well, regardless, this is very, very bad. They don’t have a name yet, but the reception you got at the airport is proof that people recognize you. I doubt we have very long before your identity is revealed.”
“I don’t understand why anyone would lie about this.” I feel faint, my heart stuttering. “What are we going to do? Release a statement?”
His fingers tap at the table, and he looks at Fiona. “Princess, do you mind giving me a moment?”
Nodding, Fiona pushes to her feet and heads up the stairs, giving me an apologetic smile. I don’t respond, my grip tightening on the chair until my nails start to splinter.
“Two years ago, when you were attacked… do you remember anything about that night?”
Blood. Agony ripping up my spine, sinking its claws in my soul and refusing to let go.
A male’s voice, assuring me. Wet lips on my ear, cheap cologne in my nostrils.
I shrug. “Bits and pieces.”
“The men our mother associated with were heavily involved in certain… illegal trades. Worse than the normal drug running that everyone knows goes on around here.”
True. The Mafia has a monopoly on drugs in King’s Trace—the kids at school get their designer fixes through them, even.
“And while the man who attacked you is dead…” Boyd trails off, his face hardening, fist curling on the table. “I live in constant fear of his associates realizing you’re alive, and the reason he’s not. The things they would do if they found you…”
Again, his sentence goes unfinished, hanging in the air like a deadweight between us.
I can’t even bring myself to imagine it.
“If we draw attention to this scandal… to you… it could be very bad, Riley.”
My stomach sinks, a rock breaching the surface of a pond, and I don’t want to ask what this means for me. What he’s saying, even though I’m pretty sure I already know.