“Really. I don’t?”
“Noidea,” she reiterated. “And yeah, you’re right, I dovalue ethical journalism. What you did to Dane wassowrong, I ended up finding out the realstory of what happened to Campbell and Hathaway.That’swhy I was at his house last night—not for whatever sick reason you’ve cooked up in your perverted mind.”
Thayer chuckled. “Is that right?”
“Yeah, that’s right.” She pushed her bowl of ramen aside and grabbed her bag. This dinner was over. “So thanks butno thanksto your offer. And you better tell Mr. Sullivan to get ready, because I’m going to spread this story far and wide. I bet you it’ll cause such a controversy, it’ll bring the DeHardt trade to a grinding halt.”
Thayer calmly shook his head. “You won’t do that, actually. You won’t find a soul willing to print it.”
“I don’t need anyone to print it. I’ll write the story myself and post it all over the internet.”
“Go ahead. Try. Your post will be pulled within minutes.”
“Haven’t you heard of the Streisand Effect? The harder you fight and try to censor this, the brighter the light you shine on it. You’ll only draw more attention.”
“I don’t think you understand my influence when paired with Mr. Sullivan’s resources. If you say a single word, you will never work a single day in this business, or foranymedia outfit, for the rest of your life.”
She clapped her hand on the tabletop. “Fine. I don’t even care. That’s how serious I am, Thayer—you made a big mistake thinking you could proposition me like that.”
“You won’t do adamnthing. And do you know why?”
Austen didn’t know what he had up his sleeve, but the certainty in his smarmy eyes was alarming. With a smug grin, he opened his messenger bag and leisurely pulled out a folder.
“What’s this?” she asked.
He didn’t speak. He simply opened the folder and pulled out a large stack of photos. He held the first photo up and showed it to her. It was a photo of Austen waiting on Dane’s front patio last night.
“You—you photographed me?”
“I hired a PI. The very best PI in all of North America, actually. I was stunned at her level of detail and professionalism. Care to recant your claims yet? No? Okay, let’s look at some more photos.”
He flipped from one photo to the next.
Dane arriving home in his Maserati.
The two of them meeting on the doorstep.
Heading inside together.
“Boring stuff, I know,” Thayer said. “But don’t worry, it’s about to getrealexciting.”
Austen didn’t need, much lesswant,to see what else he had. She had a festering sickness in the pit of her stomach that he’d seenallof last night. But she couldn’t speak, couldn’t run. She was frozen with fear—it was like watching a car crash in slow motion.
Thayer began flipping through the photos faster.
Dane showing Austen his backyard. The two of them drinking wine by the pool. Dane stripping out of his clothes, jumping into the water. Austen sitting by Dane, her legs wading in the pool. Dane climbing out of the pool and crawling on top of her.
Their lips locking in a passionate kiss.
“You’re right. My mind must be so sick and perverted,” he said with a sneer. “To my eye, it looks like you two are playing tonsil hockey. But clearly, he had to getreallyclose to spill allthe juicy details about Campbell and Hathaway. Yes, I’m sure that’s what happened here!”
“Stop,” she croaked, barely above a whisper.
He didn’t stop. He flipped through more photos, faster still.
Austen watched her striptease through a series of photographs. He had hundreds.
“I always knew you’d have a fantastic figure under all those dumpy clothes you wear.” Thayer shook his head with disappointment. “Shame I had to see it like this.”
