Then another sound cut through the chaos.
The sound of an engine.
Followed by tires screeching against the road. Several reporters turned. Naomi did too. A range rover came around the corner and braked hard directly in front of the building.
The passenger door opened. Dorian leaned out.
"Get in!"
She didn’t even stop to think. Anything was better than the pack of hyenas outside her house. She pushed through the nearest reporters and ran toward the car.
Questions followed her.
"Mr. Heathcliffe!"
"Will there still be a divorce?"
Naomi practically threw herself into the passenger seat. Dorian barely waited for the door to shut before accelerating. She grabbed the handle above the window. "Jesus frigging Christ!"
Dorian checked his mirrors and took the next turn. Naomi twisted around long enough to make sure nobody was following.
Then she turned on him.
"What the hell is happening? How did they find me?"
"My ex-wife happened."
"What!"
"She is an Instagram influencer, among other things," Dorian said. "She announced your name on social media tonight. I saw it and knew I had to come get you before you said something that would get me in trouble."
Naomi turned toward him. "You?! You?! Are you insane? My life is a circus because of you!"
"I didn’t start this bullshit," he snapped. "You did when you decided to give the world a show!"
Naomi opened her mouth, then shut it again because, irritatingly, he had a point. A very small point.
Tiny.
Barely worth acknowledging.
"Okay, fine. I admit that," she said through clenched teeth. "I didn’t know you were famous."
Dorian gave her a look. "No, you just wanted attention."
Naomi’s jaw dropped. "Yes! Yes, I wanted attention!" she shot back. "It took a month before I could see you!"
"Well, you got it, Missy!" Dorian snapped the word with enough irritation to make Naomi glare at him.
"Where are you taking me?"
"My house."
Naomi turned toward him. "What?"
"My house."
"I heard you the first time. I’m trying to understand why."
Dorian looked ahead. "Would you like me to return you to your apartment building and let you handle the hungry reporters all by yourself?"
Naomi glanced back through the rear window as though she could still see them. "No."
"Then we are going to my house."
"You could take me to a hotel."
"If those reporters track you somewhere else tonight, I will have to come rescue you again."
"I did not ask you to rescue me."
"No, you were doing an excellent job on your own. ’Get the hell away from me’," Dorian mimicked under his breath.
"You have no idea how much this is ruining my life. Do you think this is just about you?" She looked away. "Of course you do."
Dorian’s jaw tightened. Maybe he had been a jerk. He was pissed. Pissed enough that everyone around him had become collateral damage.
The moment he saw his ex-wife’s video, he knew things were about to get much worse. She had named Naomi publicly.
Within minutes, people were digging. Then the partners called. That conversation had been delightful.
The partners wanted the situation handled. His divorces had always created gossip, but this was different.
His name was trending for all the wrong reasons. And now his ex-wife had practically handed the internet Naomi’s identity on a silver platter.
Dorian exhaled. He did not need this. He glanced at her. Naomi had turned toward the window. Her reflection stared back from the dark glass.
The fight had drained out of her. Her shoulders sagged. Her hands rested limply in her lap. Dorian frowned.
She looked exhausted. Naomi closed her eyes for a moment. All she had been looking forward to was sleep.
"Been working all day?" Dorian asked.
"Hmmm-hmmm..." Naomi hummed. She didn’t bother turning away from the window. Her cheek rested against the cool glass, and the passing lights of New York blurred together outside.
Dorian glanced at her. The Naomi he had come to know over the last few days seemed physically incapable of letting silence survive longer than thirty seconds. Now she barely had enough energy to form actual words.
That was probably concerning.
"Why do you work two jobs?"
Naomi slowly turned her head. "Why does anyone work two jobs?"
The question came with just enough bite to make Dorian realize how badly his own had sounded.
"Sorry. That came out wrong."
"No kidding."
"It’s just..." He hesitated, which was unusual enough that Naomi actually looked at him properly. "With what I know about you, you shouldn’t struggle so much."
Her brows lifted. "You mean what Adrian told you."
"Yes."
"Ah." Naomi nodded thoughtfully. Then she looked back out the window. "Maybe I should marry Adrian."
Dorian’s head snapped toward her. "What?"
"He knows everything about me already. It would save time."
"You’re not marrying Adrian."
Naomi’s lips twitched. "Hmmm... Very possessive. I should add that to your curriculum vitae."
"I am not possessive."
"Of course not."
Dorian caught the faint smile she was trying to hide. For some reason, that made some of his irritation fade. He sighed. "I’m sorry I’m being a jerk. I’m not used to being anything else with women."
"Why is that?"
He gave a quiet laugh, although there was nothing particularly funny about it. "Do I have to explain? Two words... three divorces."
"How did that happen?" She turned completely toward him now, exhaustion apparently willing to make a temporary exception for gossip.
"Short story, really. My first wife..." He paused. "We got married fresh out of law school. She preferred older men. Specifically my uncle."
Her eyes widened dramatically. "Oh my God... She slept with your uncle?"
"Married him, actually."
Naomi slapped a hand over her mouth. Dorian glanced at her.
"You look much too entertained by my trauma."
"And Wife Number Two?"
Dorian exhaled. "My second wife..." He thought about it. "I don’t know. She just found living with me unbearable. I still don’t understand why."
"I can understand why," Naomi said.