I’d left a question unsaid, but Ottavia answered it anyway.
“I know that. But it doesn’t matter to me where you play, Dakota,” she said, staring into my eyes. “I trust you. And as long as you don’t do anything to break that trust …”
This time,she’dleft a question unsaid.
“Never, Ottavia,” I said.
“Then we’ll be fine.” She grinned. “Now where’s that coffee I was promised?”
“Whoops! Sorry.” I grabbed her favorite mug and filled it with coffee and made it the way she likes it—with a dash of sugar and a splash of milk.
“You’re the best. She winked, gave me a peck on the cheek, and returned to her spot at the island.
I got back to work on breakfast, cracking eggs into the skillet. Ottavia went silent as she read the morning news on her iPad, something she does every morning while she sips her coffee.
A few minutes later, I killed the stovetop flame and plated our breakfast. Right before I sat to eat, though, a sharp gasp suddenly escaped Ottavia’s lips.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, hastily turning to her. I was instantly worried because it was the kind of gasp that made your heart sink with the knowledge that something terrible had happened.
“Ohno,” she uttered with a mixture of fear and disbelief.
“What is it, Ottavia?”
“How could this even happen?” she asked, her voice full of worry as she slowly spun the iPad around.
The browser was loaded on some kind of news or gossip site. The headline read:
THE NEPO BABY AFFAIR:
Inside the Scandalous Affair of Billionaire Hotel Heiress, Ottavia Capuano, and Hockey’s Playboy Prince, Dakota Easton
“What the fuck?” I murmured, my heart rocking against my ribs. “What’s a nepo baby?”
“It means nepotism baby,” she answered. “And that’s us.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I grumbled. “How could this even happen?”
“I don’t know …” Ottavia said, her voice strained. “But look, they even have pictures. Someone’s been following us.”
She swiped at the screen, and I felt sick to my stomach as candid photos of us rolled past.
“Looks like they’ve been following us for months,” I said. “What does the article say?”
“Let me see.” She quietly read for a moment or two before stopping. “I can’t even read this. It’s super trashy. Like, tabloid level, almost.” She pushed the iPad away and poked at her over-easy eggs instead. “Here. You can read it if you want.”
I picked up the tablet and began to read aloud. “‘In an audacious display of entitlement and privilege, hotel heiress Ottavia Capuano and hockey’senfant terrible, Dakota Easton, are embroiled in a scandalous affair that is sending shockwaves through the city’s social circles.’”
“Boy, we’re off to a great start,” I grumbled sarcastically.
“Yeah, just wait,” she said.
I kept reading. “‘Whispers of an affair began roughly six months ago, when witnesses first caught sight of the sizzling duo cozying up to each other in a dimly lit corner of a trendy downtown bar. With every stolen glance and electrifying touch, it became clear that a spark of romance was igniting.’”
“Six months ago?” I shot Ottavia a confounded glance. “What the hell is this lunatic talking about?”
“No idea. See what I mean? It’s all just trash. Trash and lies.”
I kept reading. “‘Ottavia, born into unimaginable wealth and privilege as the daughter of casino hotel magnate Sal Capuano, has led a life of excess and indulgence. The alluring heiress has made recent public appearances alongside her longtime beau, Leo Lancaster, at campaign events for Leo’s father, Senator William Lancaster. But sources close to Ottavia say that the heiress’ relationship with Leo is on shaky ground, as she has found a partner who matches her insatiable appetite for attention and luxury: Vegas Sin bad boy Dakota Easton.
