Wilde at Heart (Wilde Security, #3)(65)
“Oh my goodness.” Charlotte James pressed a hand over her diamond necklace as if protecting it. “Nothing too valuable was taken, I hope.”
What a materialistic bitch.
Shelby winced at the venom in her thoughts. Maybe Reece was right and they should have cancelled, because she was finding it so much harder than usual to play her part for these women. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally, and all she really wanted to do was go home with Reece, curl up on the couch, and watch a Japanese monster movie together.
“No,” she managed, beating down her annoyance. “Just my ring, a few paintings, and Reece’s laptop. Not the business one,” she added. She didn’t want Charlotte saying something to her husband about DMW having shoddy security. “The business files are all perfectly safe.”
Charlotte fanned herself with one dainty hand. “Oh, you poor thing. I don’t know how you’re so calm about it all. I’d be an absolute wreck!”
“I’ll tell you how she’s so calm.” Lena Schilling, who had been lurking like a vulture on the outskirts of their little circle, pushed her way forward. “Shelby’s used to dealing with scum. Isn’t that right?”
Unable to keep a straight face, Shelby scowled at the woman. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you do.” She leaned in close and her breath reeked of vodka. “I know all about you, Shelby Wilde. Or should I call you Shelby Bremer? Though you’re certainly not from the California Bremers like we thought.”
Oh, no. No, no, no. A cold sweat broke out at her temples, and she resisted the urge to swipe at it. “You’re drunk, Lena. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. Shelby Bremer, not of the California Bremers, daughter of Katrina, a drug addict and occasional prostitute. And from the looks of things, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” She pulled a handful of photographs from her jewel-studded purse and flung them. They scattered across the floor.
The blackmailer’s photos. All of them. Stills from the video of her and Reece together at The Bean Gallery. The Vegas hotel photos. The not-so-flattering pictures of her before she decided she needed to straighten up her life…
All of it, laid out right there on the floor for everyone to see.
Charlotte scooped up several of the photos, her face white. “What is all this?”
“Blackmail,” Shelby whispered and her stomach twisted. “It was you.”
Lena scoffed. “I’m merely exposing a fake.” Puffed up with righteous indignation, she faced Charlotte. “She doesn’t belong in high society. She doesn’t even belong in the middle class. She’s nothing but white trash, and Reece only married her because he got caught slumming and was afraid of losing your husband’s approval.”
“Oh,” Charlotte breathed, and her cheeks flushed bright red as she flipped through the photos. “This is…disgusting.” She spared Shelby a contemptuous glance before scurrying away, pictures in hand. No doubt she was going to find her husband.
It was over. Just like she’d told Reece it would be. Only she hadn’t expected the end to come so soon. Or so publicly.
Shelby whirled around, needing to get away, to go somewhere else. Anywhere else. She felt as if every eye in the room was staring at her, judging her. Imagined the scornful whispers, the derisive jokes they’d all say about her.
She spotted a doorway not blocked by people and lurched toward it, but Alicia grabbed her arm.
“Shelby, wait—”
“No. I…can’t stay here. I can’t—” Voice cracking, she shook off Alicia’s grip and raced from the ballroom.
White trash.
God. How foolish of her to think a dye job and a bit of makeup would be enough to hide what she was.
The more Reece listened to Irving James talk, the more he was sure he didn’t want to tie his company to the man in any way, shape, or form. For so long, he’d thought it was wrong to let his personal feeling of distaste get in the way of business, but f*ck that. It was his business and, from here on out, he was only making deals that felt good. No more of this acid-like feeling in his gut or worrying whether he’d do or say the wrong thing and offend the wrong person. He’d figure out another way to keep Wilde Security afloat that wasn’t akin to selling his soul to this devil. In fact, he was ninety percent certain he’d already found another way thanks to the genius of Cliff McWilliam. He’d been so zeroed in on the deal with James that he hadn’t noticed the way out of Wilde Security’s financial crisis was sitting right under his feet in the basement of DMW.
He’d been so stupid. Stupid and tunnel-visioned. And if it wasn’t for Shelby opening his eyes to all kinds of possibilities he’d never considered, he may very well still be that short-sighted man.
All right. Enough was enough.
Reece opened his mouth to tell Irving James the deal was off, but he never got the chance. Charlotte bustled over and shoved something into her husband’s hand. Crossing her arms, she glared at Reece like he was a cockroach.
And he knew. Even before James’s eyes bugged and his face flushed red, he knew the jig was up.
“W-Wilde,” James sputtered and held up the photos. “Explain this!”
He should probably be panicking right now, but all he felt was a giddy rush of relief. He laughed. “I don’t owe you a damn thing.” He turned to go find Shelby and get the hell out of here, but stopped short. “Wait. Yes, I do have something to say. I’ve been so busy trying to kiss your ass I was ruining the best thing I’ve ever had, forcing her to change herself to suit your antiquated view of how a woman should act and what a marriage should be. Yeah, well, f*ck you. DMW is pulling out of this deal.” He grabbed the photos from James’s hand. “Have a nice night.”