Until May (Until Her/Him #11)(51)

Still, if I knew it wouldn’t freak her out, I would just move the fuck in, because it would save the hassle of going to my place every couple of days to check on things and get clothes.

Once I’m dressed, with my T-shirt in hand, I go back to the bedroom and pick up my phone, taking it with me to the kitchen as I put on my shirt.

“All right, Marsha. You’ve got me.”

“As you’re not my client anymore, darling, this is just a courtesy call to inform you about a concerning email I’ve received.”

“I’m listening.” I stop searching through the fridge for something to heat up for dinner and stare at my cell on the counter, my curiosity piqued.

“A sex tape was forwarded to a contact of mine at BBC. The video is slightly grainy, but the man in the video is most definitely you.”

“Pardon?” I step up to my phone, sure I heard her wrong.

“I’m forwarding you the video now,” she says, and I watch a text from her appear on the screen. I click on it, then tap the video, and my muscles bunch as the video begins to play. The image is grainy like she said, but I can clearly make out May and myself on her bed, me sitting up with my back to the headboard, with her straddling my lap, riding me with her head thrown back. I remember thinking in that moment with her that I was the luckiest man in the world, having her give herself to me so freely.

And some motherfucker was watching us.

“Who sent this?” I bark, taking my phone with me back to the bedroom, and as soon as I enter, I start searching for where the camera had to be to capture us at that angle.

“It was anonymous,” she says as I scan the ceiling.

“What’s BBC plan on doing with the video?”

“Nothing. Since you no longer play for the Sparrows, the story wouldn’t be of any real interest to viewers.” I hear her typing something. “Do you know the woman in the video?”

“She’s my girlfriend.” I stare at the smoke alarm on the ceiling, then glance at the bed. “How worried do I need to be about this?”

“I would suggest you prepare, since it’s likely the BBC was not the only news channel to receive a copy of the tape, and others might be more interested than them in sharing it.”

“Fuck.”

“The good news, darling, is all news becomes old news rather quickly in this day and age.”

“She works at a high school.”

“You’re not one of her students, are you?” She laughs. “It will blow over. Just make her aware of the situation before she finds out about it from someone else.”

“I’ll let her know, and thanks for giving me a heads-up.”

“Yes, well, you are welcome. Now, I must go. I’ve got a baller who refuses to stop acting like a sod while he’s out in public.”

“Good luck with that,” I say, listening to her say goodbye before she hangs up.

Grabbing the armchair from the corner of the room, I drag it under the smoke alarm, then climb up on the cushion and twist it off its base. Jumping down, I take it with me to the kitchen and drop it on the counter, then head out of the house to grab my tool bag from my truck.

When I get back inside, I begin to dismantle the alarm and find an SD card inside, which would only be needed if it was storing something, so it has to be the camera. Looking across the ceiling in the kitchen, I find the smoke detector there and jump up on the island. As I’m pulling it down, I hear May come home and Cooper go to greet her at the door.

“Aiden,” she calls, sounding happy, and it fucking kills me that I’m about to change that. “What are you doing?” She drops her bags to the top of the island as I jump down with the device in hand. Without answering her, I open the smoke detector up, and my muscles loosen when I don’t find an SD card like there was in the other one. “Aiden.” My name leaves her mouth just above a whisper, and I turn to look at her.

“Someone put a camera in your bedroom,” I tell her quietly, and her face goes pale. “They sent a video of us to a news outlet in London this afternoon. My ex-publicist called to tell me about it.”

“What kind of video?”

I drop my eyes from hers, and my fists clench.

“What kind of video was it?” she repeats, her voice rising.

“You know.” I lift my eyes and watch tears fill hers. As one falls down her cheek, it feels like someone’s shoved a dagger right through my heart.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, and my head jerks back. “I wish I never got on that app.”

“This is not your fault,” I growl, walking around the edge of the counter to her so I can pull her into my arms. “You are not to blame for this.”

“I am.” Her hands grip my sides as she buries her face against my chest and sobs. “I… I th-thought it was over! No… nothing has happened in t-two weeks. I thought it… was over.”

“Breathe, baby.” I kiss her head, then pick her up and carry her to the couch so I can hold her. It takes some time for her to catch her breath, and once she no longer sounds like she might hyperventilate, I place my fingers under her chin and tip her head back so I can look at her. “I need to call the cops, and while we wait for them to show up, I want you to pack a bag. We’re not staying here until we can find out if there are more cameras in the house. The smoke detector in the kitchen didn’t have one, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t others around.”