The Hooker and the Hermit
Page 57

It could have been thugs looking for valuables, but why would they only break into one room? No, this felt like someone searching for information, and what with all the paparazzi following our every move, I wouldn’t put it past one of them to try something like this for an exclusive.
When I looked back to Annie, I saw that there were tears streaming down her face as she wrung her hands. “Ronan, my laptop is gone. Somebody’s taken it.”
I strode toward her and took her hands in mine, rubbing the inside of her wrists with my thumbs in an effort to calm her.
“The police are on their way. And don’t worry about the laptop. I’ll buy you a new one. Do you have everything backed up?”
She started shaking her head furiously. “No, you don’t understand. It’s not about replacing it. It’s about the information that’s on it. Shit, Ronan, I can’t….” Words failed her as she began to sob, and I pulled her tight to my chest, surrounding her with my arms.
All of a sudden, the cause of her panic struck me. She obviously had all of her Socialmedialite files on her laptop. If somebody broke into it, they’d be able to expose her as the anonymous blogger. Not to mention the fact that she still didn’t know that I knew. Something twisted inside me, something sharp and horrible. I didn’t like feeling that I was deceiving her, and I’m sure half of her alarm was down to the prospect of my finding out.
“Hush, love; everything is going to be fine. I’ll sort this,” I murmured just as there was a knock on the door.
Settling Annie on the edge of the bed, I went to answer it and was greeted by O’Hare and two policemen. I made sure to voice my dissatisfaction with their security measures loud and clear. O’Hare grew frazzled, assuring me that the price of our stay would now be complimentary. I wasn’t mollified by that, and I think he knew. I thought of the clusterfuck this could’ve been if the thieves had gotten Brona’s pictures and clenched my fists.
Thinking of someone taking Annie’s things pissed me off even more. I didn’t want the world to know who she really was just as much as she didn’t. She might have been thrust into the world of celebrity by being my girlfriend, but it would be a whole other story if her identity as The Socialmedialite became known. She was the Internet’s best-kept secret, and I’m sure those working in the media would sell their left kidneys for the exclusive.
I wanted to protect her so badly, and the fact that this was out of my control was hard to handle. I felt like wrecking the world just to keep Annie from exposure.
Making a concerted effort to calm down, I told the officers how we’d found the place, and O’Hare went to look for the security footage of the corridor outside our room. Patricia trundled in with tea and sandwiches at one point, disappearing into the bedroom to talk to Annie. I noticed her shut the door after a minute and wondered what they were discussing. Despite all this drama, my proposal was still at the forefront of my mind, and I knew that if Annie was uncertain about saying yes before, now she was positively terrified. The break-in couldn’t have come at a worse possible moment.
About a half an hour later, I was standing in the hotel’s monitoring room watching a lone male walk right up to our suite on the screen, fiddle with the lock, and then disappear inside our rooms. He was wearing a peak cap but no balaclava, and though the footage was grainy, I recognized the prick immediately. He was one of the more aggressive paps I’d dealt with and had been following Annie and me nonstop since we arrived in Dublin. I even knew his name because I heard another photographer call him Gavin once. After the police left to search for him, I thought about returning to the suite, where I knew Annie was still in turmoil, but my guilt and apprehension kept me away.
I didn’t want her to say she wouldn’t marry me, but I also needed to tell her that I knew she was The Socialmedialite. Before I did that, though, I needed a fucking drink.
At the bar, I acted completely out of character by knocking back three shots of whiskey all in a row. I noticed some women sitting close by eyeing me and grew irritated by it for some reason, so I didn’t stay long. I left right after the third shot of liquid courage and took the lift up to our suite. When I got there, Patricia was gone, but the rooms had been tidied. I found Annie sitting in bed with a cup of peppermint tea in her hands and a bathrobe on. Her hair was wet, and her eyes were red, indicating she’d been crying. In fact, by the looks of it, she’d been crying a lot, and I wanted to punch myself for not being there to comfort her.
“We have a lead on the thief,” I told her softly, standing in the doorway. She was staring out the window, not meeting my gaze. “I’m almost certain it’s one of the paps who’s been following us. Total shithead. There’s a good chance we’ll get your laptop back in one piece.”
Her eyes flickered to me then, and I saw her swallow. “You don’t understand. The first thing he’ll do is download my entire hard drive. It’s the information that’s valuable, Ronan, not the laptop.” Her voice went really quiet then as she whispered, “They’ll use it against me.”
Seeing her like this made me ache. I wanted to share her burden, tell her everything would be all right, but I couldn’t. I balled my fists and gritted my teeth.
“We’ll figure it out together, Annie. You’re not alone in this,” I tried to reassure her.
Her eyes were watery again, more tears building, and the look she gave me made my heart crack in two. “You won’t be saying that once you know the truth. You won’t want anything to do with me then.” A pause, before she continued under her breath, “Especially not marriage.”
I took three long steps into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. This was it. She could tell me now, and it would all be out in the open. I’d never have to admit I already knew. “What truth?” I murmured. “What are you talking about, darling?”
Our gazes locked, and the look of pure terror on her face told me she was never going to admit it. “Nothing. It’s just client information. It could cause trouble for them if the press gets its hands on private documents.”
“You’re lying,” I said. “Annie, don’t ever think there’s anything you can’t tell me. I love you. You know this. Nothing can change that.”
“I’m not lying,” she croaked.
Frustrated, I climbed to the center of the bed and took her face in my hands. “You are. Don’t be scared, love. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You can’t know that.”
“Yes, I can. Tell me.”
I felt her pulse flutter against my fingertips, her breathing growing panicked. She was like a small bird trapped in a cage, desperate to break free. I hated putting her in the cage, so I decided to take the bullet instead. It felt like all the air went out of me as I exhaled heavily and said, “Look, you don’t need to worry about anything. I already know.”
Time slowed. Annie frowned. I swallowed. Every muscle in my body clenched tight, and comprehension lit in her eyes.
She moved away as far as she could go, which wasn’t far, and I hated how she was looking at me in that moment. She was looking at me like I was a stranger. Suspicion laced her words.
“You know what, Ronan? What do you know?”
In a heartbeat, the tables had turned, and now I was the one panicking. She tried pulling away from me again, but I gripped her shoulders, pinning her in place. “I know about your blog,” I said, trying to sound strong and confident and failing miserably. My voice was all scratchy and uneven. “I know that you’re really The Socialmedialite.”
Her eyes flickered back and forth between mine in disbelief for what felt like forever. When she finally spoke, it was just one word.
“No.”
“Please let me explain.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “This isn’t happening.” One second she was weak, distraught, but the next second, that all changed. She opened her eyes and glared at me. “How long have you known? How did you find out?”
“Your phone,” I confessed. “That time you lost it. You left it in my car. A tweet came on the screen from your Socialmedialite account. I put two and two together.”
Her chest rose and fell in anger, but I didn’t let her push me off. “That was weeks ago! You…I…we…we’ve exchanged emails since then. You pretended….”
“You pretended, too,” I said, cutting her off. “You pretended for longer; but I forgave you, and now you need to forgive me.”
“Get off me,” she fumed.
“Don’t run away from me,” I begged.
“I said, ‘GET OFF ME!’” she yelled, and my body went limp. I let go of her immediately, and she climbed from the bed, feet stomping on the carpet as she paced the room. I was shattering into tiny pieces as I felt her emotionally sever all ties. I couldn’t handle this. I was in too deep, and if she left me now, I’d never recover.
“I’m so sorry, love; please come here, and let me explain. Let me explain why I lied,” I said, sounding like a desperate man. She was the only woman I would ever be desperate for. I had to make this right.