“Your marriage. It’s gone on long enough but now it needs to end.”

“That’s not your call to make.”

“It is if you love him and respect him.” Mrs. Cabral adjusted her sunglasses. Her mouth was still pulled into that angry frown. “If you do, you’ll pack up and leave at once.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Then perhaps this will.” She opened her purse and pulled out a USB stick, then slid it across the table toward Chelsea.

She was really confused now. “What’s on that?”

“That is blackmail information.”

“You’re blackmailing me?”

The woman’s lips curled. “Don’t be stupid. Someone is blackmailing me. They’re going to release this video unless I pay them.”

“Video? Of what?”

“It’s you.”

Chelsea’s stomach plummeted. “Me what?” Her voice was a frightened whisper.

“You on tape, you stupid girl. You with some man, to be precise. It’s disgusting.” She flicked the USB toward Chelsea. “Take it home and see for yourself.”

How could it be a video of her? She’d never allowed a lover to have a camera in the bedroom, wasn’t one of those girls that took dirty selfies. There was no way she’d have—

Oh, god.

This wasn’t happening.

It wasn’t.

She felt encased in ice. Like the world had suddenly flash-frozen and she was caught up in the destruction.

Someone had video of her rape. This guy was out there, and he knew who she was, and he was going to use that information and ruin her fragile happiness.

She wanted to vomit.

She wanted to die.

Mrs. Cabral’s mouth kept moving, and Chelsea realized dumbly that she was still talking. She forced herself to listen to the woman, the USB stick sitting in the middle of the table between them like a cockroach. ”. . . I’ve spent too long building up our family name and making us famous. I’m not going to let who we are be ruined because you can’t keep your legs together and have the grace not to film it. If the network finds out about this, we’re going to be the laughingstock of everyone in Hollywood. I won’t have that, and I won’t pay blackmailers. The best way to correct this situation is simply for you to get out of Sebastian’s life. If you’re not around, there’s no one to blackmail over.”

“Okay,” Chelsea breathed.

Mrs. Cabral sat back, clearly surprised at Chelsea’s quick concession. “You don’t have anything to say for yourself?”

What could she say? What could she do that would make this better? Absolutely nothing. And the last thing she’d ever wanted to do was hurt Sebastian. The thought of him seeing the video was like a knife in her gut.

He’d see that, and he’d realize how ruined she was. How unworthy of him she was. Hot tears started to spill from her eyes, and to her surprise, Mrs. Cabral offered her a napkin.

“It’s not personal, my dear,” Mrs. Cabral said. “It’s business. This family is my business. You understand, don’t you?”

Chelsea nodded.

“So you’ll leave him? Today?” she pressed.

What choice did Chelsea have? “I’ll tell him tonight that it’s over.”

“Leave now,” Mrs. Cabral emphasized. “Send him a note. I can get a private jet for you. Don’t give him the opportunity to convince you to stay. Just get out of New York and go into hiding.”

No. She’d leave him, but on her own terms. Sebastian deserved better than her fleeing like a rat in the night. She swallowed hard and pushed the USB stick back toward Mrs. Cabral. “Don’t worry. There’s nothing he can say that would make me change my mind. This will be the last time you see me.”

Mrs. Cabral nodded. “Good.”

*   *   *

Chelsea was in a daze as she took the subway home. She didn’t know if she’d lost Rufus, and she didn’t care. If someone had tried to hold a conversation with her, she’d have failed miserably. Horror rolled in her mind, over and over again.

She’d ruined Sebastian.

Destroyed him. He’d wanted the marriage for convenience’s sake, and no matter what it had morphed into now, he’d ultimately wanted to get married because he’d wanted to avoid attention. There’d be no avoiding it if that tape got out. He’d lose any respectability or credibility once his name was attached to hers.

Because it wasn’t just a sex tape—it was a crime. The media would have a field day. Some people would be disgusted that it would be out, and others would be titillated. The more lurid it was, the more people would check it out.

She’d be infamous overnight.

And here she’d been encouraging Sebastian to go a little more public with his art. To look at someday trying to set up an exhibition. To move forward and show the world that Sebastian Cabral was more than just a man with money and an annoying family. To show that he had genuine talent and to share it with the world.

His name would be garbage if hers was attached to it. She’d ruin everything she touched.

Which was why she had to leave.

She walked home and entered the town house, noting it was utterly quiet. No Sebastian, not yet. That was good. That’d give her time to pack and settle her mind before he came home.

She picked up her favorite derby bag, the one big enough to hold all her important stuff, and began to cram clothing and gear into it.

Then she sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, the implications of leaving hitting her. Shit. Gretchen’s wedding. She couldn’t be in it. Not now. And her derby team? She was going to have to bail out on them, too. Hot tears flooded down her face. She was disappointing everyone.

But at least Gretchen was easy to bail out on. As much as she wanted to run away and hide, Sebastian deserved a face-to-face good-bye. She picked up her phone and wiped away her tears, then texted Gretchen the bad news.

Next up, her derby sisters.

Chapter Twenty-three

Sebastian and Hunter had spent the morning rock climbing, and then Sebastian had gone to visit his father, since his mother had claimed to be out visiting friends. He’d spent a nice, quiet lunch with Dad, feeling a little guilty that he wasn’t spending more time with him. Dad’s health was getting more fragile by the year, and he wouldn’t be around forever. Sebastian vowed not to let his mother continue to chase him off from family visits.

As he’d left the Cabral home, he’d gotten a text from Hunter. Can you come by this afternoon? Need to have an impromptu groomsmen meeting. 2 P.M.

Sebastian sent back an affirmative, and then instructed his driver that he needed to go to Buchanan Manor instead of straight home. He sent Chelsea a text letting her know he’d be late for their afternoon skating workout through Central Park, but didn’t get a response.

Maybe she was still out buying soap supplies.

When his car pulled up, he instructed the driver to wait. “No idea how long this will take, so stick around.” He got out of the car and noticed a few others were parked. Those must have been the other men. Not for the first time, Sebastian wondered why they were having a groomsmen meeting in person when it could have been just as easily solved by a few phone calls or text messages. Or emails. Was the wedding called off? He’d seen Hunter earlier today and he hadn’t indicated any trouble.

Odd.

He said a quick hello to Hunter’s elderly butler and headed up the stairs to Hunter’s office. The door was open, and he knocked quickly, then entered. A few other men were there already. Asher, Cooper, Levi, and Hunter.

Hunter gestured at one of the chairs across from his desk. “Sit. We’re just waiting on Magnus.”

The other three men gave him wary looks as he sat down. “What’s this about?”