CHAPTER 89

ELENA

I rubbed my hands over my face, ignoring the guilty twinges in my lower stomach. They popped up the second Chloe smacked Aiden on the head yesterday and explained everything.

Extra media attention on Dirty J. was the worst thing that could happen. Even if the #AidenSexTape trend on Twitter told a different story—and wow, were these girls so obsessed they’d watch him have sex with some girl?

I knew this was a risk, taking this job. I wasn’t, and am not, naive to the fact that I was very much in the public eye. I was not so stupid as to think I wouldn’t get snapped on camera at least once or twice, but it didn’t matter, because petty celebrity matters were far beneath my family and the Diazs. Even my friends rarely checked the tabloids.

Hell, I only did it on my phone when I went to the toilet, then I had to clear my browser history.

No, this job was the safest risk I could have taken. Not least because I was constantly surrounded by big, strong-as-hell men nearly sixteen hours a