“Fine. I’ll talk to them, but don’t blame me when your life falls to shit.”
Why would I blame him? “I’ll be fine. Now go play with your stupid porn.”
I hung up the phone, fuming. I knew John loved me, but why couldn’t anyone believe me that Maxwell Cole wasn’t going to screw me over.
Lily, do you really even believe it yourself?
Shit. I shoved my hands through my hair. I don’t know anymore. I don’t know.
Danny was in our apartment when I got there just before eight o’clock, and I couldn’t have been happier to see her. If anyone would know what was going on at C.C., she would.
“I don’t have a clue,” she said, standing with me in the kitchen, wearing a cute little white summery dress, mixing up a batch of powdered vitamin water, which meant she was expecting to have some fun tonight with her boyfriend. I’d finally figured it out. Sex hydration. “That doesn’t make sense.”
Great. “But something is definitely happening.” I kicked off my heels and stood barefoot on the kitchen floor. My feet ached as badly as my head. “The customers are freaking out. Everyone’s talking about jumping ship.” At least, that’s what I’d overheard at the water cooler. “And Max is nowhere to be found.”
Danny looked at me. “Maybe the rumors are only half true—they’re getting ready to sell, but not to B&H. Maybe Max knows about the hostile takeover, decided to scrap the IPO, and is going in another direction. But that doesn’t make sense either. Because why would they sell? They’re number one.” She shook her large water bottle, turning the liquid blue. “Unless something big is going to happen and…the company is going to tank and they know it? They’re saving what they can.” She shook her head. “Nope. You know what? I don’t have a fucking clue. And I know you don’t want to hear this, Lily, but you might want to get your résumé tidied up.”
Dammit. This really sucked. And I couldn’t believe Max would just sit idly back and let his company self-destruct.
Unless, he’s the one who’s behind all this. After all, Danny had been right about something coming that might “tank” the company.
No. He wouldn’t sell out. And he would’ve told me something was coming.
Would he really? He hadn’t bothered to tell me anything so far.
Saturday morning, an insistent buzzing at the door woke me up. I staggered to answer it since Danny hadn’t come home from her boyfriend’s yet.
“Miss Snow?” said the man, shoving a giant bouquet of red roses at me.
“Uh. Yeah.” I took them and held up my finger. “One minute.”
“No need for a tip, ma’am. It’s already been taken care of.”
I thanked him and closed the door, going into the sad little beige kitchen to set the flowers down. I took out the card, which read:
I’m sorry. I know this has ruined our plans. But it has to be dealt with. – M
I stared at the card, wondering what the hell it meant. Our plans for the weekend? Our plans not to have everything explode in our faces and ruin our lives? What?
I wouldn’t have to wonder for very long.
After the flower delivery, I went for a stress-relieving run, only to return to seven news vans parked outside my building. The moment I came around the corner, I was mobbed by intrusive cameras shoved in my face and screaming reporters.
“Is it true you’re dating your boss, Maxwell Cole?” “Has he ever called you ugly?” “How does it feel to date a man with such an unusual fetish?”
I was speechless. Utterly speechless.
Panicked and sweaty from my run, I pushed my way inside my apartment, closed all the curtains and got on my laptop. The front-page news was my deepest fears times ten. It was something I couldn’t have fathomed. Not in a million years.
Pictures of Maxwell Cole and me leaving his house together, in his car, eating breakfast on his deck, making out in front of the fire at his beach house in Hawaii. Worst of all, there were multiple shots of him and me having sex on the beach.
No. No. No. Someone had taken great care to photograph us together and knew exactly where we’d be.
The headline read, Soon to Publish Book About Billionaire Maxwell Cole—Fiction or Truth?
I went on to read all about Nancy Little’s upcoming tell-all and the claims it brought against him. But then the article went on to talk about me. My degree from Stanford, my hometown of Santa Barbara, how I’d recently been hired in a senior position without any experience—a lie—and how I was Max’s lover—not a lie. The article included the photo from my C.C. employee badge, and the closing sentence spared nothing… Suffice it to say that if allegations are true, Mr. Cole’s definition of ugly would have to be grossly distorted. His current romantic interest, in this reporter’s opinion, is no beauty.
The words were extremely hurtful, but they were tame compared to the two online tabloids I’d checked. Words like “ugly creature” and “a face that could frighten small children” were used.
There were no words or enough space in my heart to contain the devastation and humiliation I felt.
I closed my laptop, reeling with anger and hurt. The only explanation I could come up with was that Maxwell Cole had done this to me. Him. He’d used me to create irrefutable evidence that the book was a lie.
My heart shattered into a thousand little fucking ugly shards of hate. How could I have been so blind? Yet, the signs had been there all along, and I simply refused to see them. Mr. Cole’s sudden interest in me. His insistence in hiring me for a position higher than the one I applied for, giving me an office, and promises of the perfect future. The way he’d taken me to Milan, bought me a nice dress and put me up in an expensive hotel room. He blinded me with all that glamour and the dazzle. Then, he pushed back against my having surgery—would look bad for him—meanwhile he tried to flaunt our relationship.
I had been his plan all along, and I’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. He knew exactly what a woman like me wanted to hear—after all, he was the master at selling things to my gender.
You’re a fucking idiot, Lily. A stupid, fucking idiot. I would bet that those first pictures that came out about me in the tabloids were no coincidence either.
I went over to the wastepaper basket—Danny never emptied shit around here, and I’d been gone most of the time—and there it was. I dialed and put my cell to my ear.
“Nancy? It’s Lily Snow. What do you want to know?”
~~~
It took forty minutes, on the record, to tell Nancy everything. This time, I told the truth, except for one thing: I did not tell her that I loved him. I knew that I did because there was no possible way I could be hurting this badly if I didn’t.
I sent a text to my mother, guessing from the lack of texts and calls that she hadn’t seen or heard anything yet…
Me: When you see the news, please don’t worry. I’m coming home. Be there soon.
I knew she and my father would freak the hell out. And for a mother to have to hear the world call her child an “ugly creature” or accuse me of being some sort of slut because I’d slept with my boss—one man, whom I loved…
Loved. Past tense.
I hung my head and gathered myself as best I could. This was not going to blow over—not for me, anyway. And Mr. Cole would come out looking like a champion for women and sell a ton of makeup with the free press. Just like he’d said. He’d turn this into a million dollars of sales. He was now, and officially, the most desirable man in the world who only dated women whose “souls turned him on,” because unlike the other PR stunts of him merely being seen in public with unattractive women, the press couldn’t poke holes through claims that he was really dating me. The nude photos, though taken at night, of him fucking me senseless on his private beach said it all. Add up all of the other photos, and it told a story of a man who didn’t seem to have any phobia whatsoever.
You’re a fucking genius, Mr. Cole. A marketing genius. And he was a coldhearted, greedy fucking bastard.
I never thought him capable of such cruelty.
I grabbed my suitcase from the closet and packed up all of my essentials. I’d call Danny later to fill her in and work something out on the rent so she wouldn’t be left high and dry.
Before I left the building, I left a quick goodbye note for Mrs. Jackson, telling her I’d miss our little chats, and then took one final breath. I couldn’t stand the thought of facing all of those reporters outside, but if I had to go through this, I needed to be with my family.
The moment I emerged from my building, they hit me like a swarm of stinging bees, shouting horrible insults posed as questions.
I pushed my way to the car, trying not to bawl, but the tears were there. And these heartless assholes wouldn’t let me get to my car.
“Get the fuck out of my face!” I yelled. I finally lost it and pushed some guy with a camera out of my way. He fell back and lost his grip.
Bastard deserved it. Why were they being so aggressive? I was a nobody.
Finally in my car, my suitcase shoved into the passenger seat, I got out of the parking lot, thinking they’d let me go. They didn’t. Several vans with satellite dishes followed me onto the highway.
I can’t fucking believe it. Were they going to get on the plane with me, too? Should I keep on driving all the way to California? I didn’t know what to do, and the only thing I wanted was to get away.
My phone rang, and when I saw the caller ID pop up on my car’s console, I flipped. Max…
“You fucking sonofabitch! How could you?” I yelled.
“Lily, calm the hell down. I’m at your apartment; where are you?”
I whisked away the tears from my face. “Where am I? Where am I?” I yelled. “Where the hell have you been?”
“I was trying to keep you out of this while I tried to—”
“Fuck you, Mr. Cole. Fuck you to hell.” I was so, so in this, and he’d put me there!
“Lily, please listen to me. I would never—”
“Don’t ever call me again. Do you hear me? Don’t come near me or so help me I will kill you.”
Words of anger, surely, but I meant them in that moment. I honestly envisioned wrapping my hands around his neck and squeezing the life out of him. How could he? How?
“Lily, you need to—”
I hung up the phone, my entire body shaking with rage. I couldn’t think or breathe or—
I looked over my shoulder at the news camera in the fast lane to my left, filming me have an epic breakdown while driving eighty miles an hour.
What is wrong with these people? Why was my life falling apart so fascinating?
When I turned my head to change lanes and move away from them, I almost hit another car passing me like an idiot on the right. I overcorrected, jerking the car left, and then it just kept on going. I plowed my car into the center divider.
The moments after the accident were a blur, mostly seen through a sheet of blood that poured into my eyes. I remembered screaming voices, sirens, and pain. Lots of pain. In my back, my arm, and my face.
When I came to, the drug-induced fog wasn’t enough to kill the agony, and I knew there was major damage all over my body.
I groaned and lifted my hand to my face. It was covered in bandages, and I couldn’t help but laugh. If I’d been ugly before, I was hideous now.
“Lily?” said a kind-sounding female voice. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” I mumbled.
“I’m Haley, your nurse. Do you know where you are?”
“In the hospital.” And I need more drugs…
“That’s right. You’ve been in an accident. The doctor will be here in a moment to check on you, but you’ve just come out of surgery, and I want to ask you a few questions.”
She went on to ask my name, age, and where I’d been when the accident occurred. I could only assume they wanted to check for brain damage.
After I passed her test, I asked her the only thing on my mind. “How bad is it?”
She looked at me. “You broke your arm, hairline fractured your skull, and you have a deep cut on your forehead. But you’ll survive.”
“What about the rest of my face?”
“The airbag spared you from the worst of it, but you hit the divider at an angle. Your side mirror broke off and hit your nose, but the doctor will explain everything that was done and possible follow-up surgeries.”
I wanted to laugh. I’d be getting my face rebuilt anyway. Only this time, I’d probably be lucky to look as good as I once had. I could feel the throbbing in my nose, cheeks and jaw, and my head felt like someone had taken a hammer to it.
“Just hang tight, Lily,” she added. “The doctor will go through everything with you and then you can see your parents.”
“They’re here?” I asked.
“Yes. So is Maxwell Cole.”
How dare he? How dare he come here? What a heartless prick. I was sure, that out of everyone in the world, his was the last face on earth my poor parents wanted to see. “Send him away.”
“I can’t make him leave, but you don’t have to see him if you don’t want to.”
The doctor, a tall woman with short brown hair and wearing scrubs, came in holding a clipboard. Her tag read Dr. Meyers.
“How are you feeling, Lily?” she said, flashing a little light in my eyes.
“Awesome,” I replied, trying to move my jaw as little as possible.
“Well,” she pulled up a chair and sat, “I saw the accident on TV, and considering how fast you were going, you’re very lucky.”
“When do I get to see my face?”
“I think the bandages can come off next week. Dr. Bloomfield will take a look, make sure everything’s draining properly and re-bandage you.”
“Dr. Bloomfield?”
“He handled your facial trauma.”
“I had plastic surgery?” I asked.
“You had all of the paperwork signed and since you were stable, I approved. It’s generally better to make the patient have to go through healing once—when possible. And your nose was shattered. He’s taken some rib cartilage and rebuilt it.”
Ohmygod. I moved just a little and did feel some bandages on my side, but the pain was everywhere.
“You had another laceration above your eye, right under the brow, so he repaired that and did the lift. The chin has been reformed, too, since we needed to go in and dig out a lot of debris from the mirror that embedded into your face.”
I was speechless.
She went on, “We won’t know about the extent of the scarring, but Dr. Bloomfield is an excellent surgeon. He’ll be around later to give you instructions to minimize scarring.”
“So am I going to look normal after this?”
“You’ll have some scars. Some will fade over time.” She smiled. “But you’re alive. Try focusing on that.” She stood up.
“Thank you. Thank you so much for taking care of me.”
“You can thank Maxwell Cole.”
“Why would I do that?” I was in this mess because of him.
“I was off today, at my daughter’s soccer tournament in Detroit for the weekend—but that man wouldn’t take no for an answer. He made sure Dr. Bloomfield was called in, too.”
“I’m so sorry. Thank you, Dr. Meyer.” I would later learn that she was one of the best surgeons in the state with three medical degrees. Her specialty was treating trauma patients—broken bones, internal injuries, that kind of stuff.
“Don’t mention it, Lily.”
As I lay there, feeling my body ache and throb, I felt grateful for what Max had done, but did he really believe he could buy me off or absolve himself with this? And why the hell did he even care?
Maybe he hoped I’d retract my story.
When my mother and father came into the room, wearing their wrinkled khaki shorts and old T-shirts they normally gardened in, the stress was all over their tear-stained faces. They must’ve dropped everything and jumped on a flight to Chicago and slept in t
he waiting room. If my heart wasn’t already broken, it would be cracking into two right now.
“Don’t even pretend to be upset,” I groaned my words, trying to crack a joke. “I know how happy you are to finally have a reason to worry.”
My mother sat next to me, her brown eyes beet red from crying. “What were you thinking?” She took my hand, careful not to tangle the IV.
I wasn’t. “I wanted to get away from those reporters.” Assholes.
“Well, Max is going to make sure they pay for what they did to you. They had no right.”
I had a feeling the press wasn’t even close to being done with me yet. Nevertheless… “I don’t want his help, Mom. That man is just as responsible as they are.”
She shook her head, making her messy lopsided ponytail flop around against her shoulder. “You’ve been out for a while, so you haven’t seen the news, but you might want to give him a chance, Lily. He really, really cares about you.”
I looked away, the tears stinging my eyes.
“Honey,” my father said to my mother, “let’s not upset her. She’s been through enough and this other stuff can wait.”
She looked up at him. “You’re right.” He leaned down and kissed the top of my hand. “I’m glad you’re okay, sweetie. That’s all that matters.”
“Tell Max to leave,” I said. “I really don’t want him here.”
She sighed in that special way when something bothered her. “I’ll let him know.”
Asshole had fucked up my life, and now he snowed one over on my parents. Was there no limit to how low he would go?
~~~
Over the next several days, I received flowers from a few coworkers, including Keri (a shocker given the scandal); friends back in California; my brother, who’d also called to chew me out; and even Danny had brought some along when she came to visit. Thankfully, my parents had instructed her not to mention you-know-who, but I could tell he’d gotten to her, too. The look in her big brown eyes was pure angst and worry, but I just didn’t want to hear it. Anything she had to say would be tainted with more of his lies.