Elain started the next morning with a massive headache and a severe wish to stay in bed and never get up again. But he had work to do, and he knew that if he just lay around and moped, it would never get better. He had tried it in the past, and it had only gotten worse.

After a few cups of strong coffee and some headache medicine, he was ready to brave the growing pile of documents on his desk. Most were about the charity event yesterday. Although Elain was glad that the party had raised such a big donation sum, he felt a sharp sting of hurt whenever he thought about it. Elain had no idea how he had endured the rest of the evening after his reception speech. Now it seemed like a hazy blur of faces, polite talk, and false smiles.

And he had really looked forward to yesterday evening...

A sharp knock on the door pulled Elain out of his dark thoughts. "Yes?"

Marithia came in, hair in disarray, her eyes blazing. "Did you take a look at the newspapers already?" she asked.

"No, but..."

"Well, what do you think of this?" She slapped a batch of newspapers on his desk.

On top of it lay the "Avras Daily Mirror", one of he worst tabloid press papers in the country. The front page was one big picture: Tyrallin, whose face wasn't in clear view, holding Elain's wrist. The headline proudly announced in bold letters, "Scandal at the annual charity party! Velvet Shadow's elusive owner caught in a fight with his lover!"

Elain quickly took a look at the next newspaper. It was sporting a similar picture, but now Tyrallin's face was in clear view. The headline was even more damning: "High school boy and club owner: no match made in heaven!"

Elain closed his eyes. He didn't need to look at the last two newspapers to know that they sported similar headlines.

"It looks like your days of hiding from the press are a thing of the past," Marithia said. "They're going to be all over you after this." Marithia picked up one of the papers and looked at it. "I just can't believe Tyra was only eighteen. Hey, you okay, boss?"

"No, I'm not." Elain took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. The headache was evolving into a migraine. "Forests, what a mess. I need to make a press statement, or the club's image will be ruined."

A small frown appeared between Marithia's brows. "I wasn't asking how you are professionally. How are you personally, Elain? That had to be a big shock."

"It was, and I feel worse than I've ever felt before," Elain told her quietly, not looking at her. "There I thought I had found the one perfect sire on Wyndrah because he's different from all the rest, but that's because he's practically still a child and just hadn't enough time to grow up to be like all the others. But despite that I might have given it a chance... if he had just told me."

Marithia let out a slow sigh. "I was really clear about it when I told him to be honest with you. Considering all the press nightmares we're going to have to deal with now, I should have taken him by the pointy ear and screamed it at him. Want me to ask Conroy to call your public relations rep on my way out, boss?"

"Yes, please. And Marithia?" Elain finally looked up at her. "This was the last time for good. If you ever see me talking to a sire again in more than business-like fashion, find an excuse to get me away from him immediately. I'm serious."

Marithia's face fell, but she reluctantly nodded her head. "Whatever you say, Elain." She left the room, muttering curses under her breath as she went.

Elain took a last, disdainful look at the newspapers before he put them aside. Now it was up to the PR rep to find a good way to clear things up. Luckily, the Velvet Shadow had a very good PR rep, but there had never been so much dust to settle before.

A few minutes later, Conroy called, telling Elain that the PR rep was on her way. Since the briefing with her would likely take the rest of the morning, Elain grabbed another cup of strong coffee and tried to see the whole thing strictly from the professional side.

But he couldn't. Any minor gossip in the press would have merited not even a shrug from him, but the main problem was that everything was true. And Elain couldn't even claim that he hadn't known that Tyrallin was only eighteen because nobody would believe him. In this day and age, it just needed a few clicks through the Internet to find out almost anything about a person, but Elain had just... trusted Tyrallin.

And that had been the biggest mistake.

Elain left his office, trying to ignore the sharp throbbing in his head — and the even sharper pain in his heart.

~*~

Tyra spent the weekend holed up in his room. He came out only when he needed to, and then he went back to his room.

On Saturday, Sally came over with excitement in her eyes, hoping to hear wonderful stories from the party, but Tyra only summarized what had happened and then asked her to let their other friends know. He also asked that she and the others leave him alone for the weekend. He needed solitude to think.

Over the course of the weekend, he sat down at his computer dozens of times to write to Elain. He typed email after email, and he saved them all without sending them. It was too soon to even attempt to send any of them.

When Monday came around, he and Feadri and Sally piled into his car and headed to school. It was an unusually subdued ride — normally they chatted and joked on the way. Sally and Feadri tried a few times to lighten the atmosphere, but awkward silence always descended upon them again.

However, when they reached the school, Feadri piped up quickly. "Hey, what are those people doing there? Are those reporters? Some of them have cameras and microphones!"

Sure enough, just outside the main gate to the school, a group of people were waiting and eagerly looking around at passing cars and students. Some of the people wore suits and carried mics, and some were carrying pads of paper and pens.

"Tyra, I have a bad feeling about this," Sally said glumly. "Maybe you'd better park somewhere else?"

Tyra had no time to answer, however. Some of the reporters were already looking in their direction, and one of them pointed at the license plate of Tyra's car. Seconds later, they were all heading toward the three friends.

"I can't really turn around now. Hold on," Tyra said. He sped up and turned in through the gate to the school, which the reporters didn't pass through. Tyra supposed there were probably legal restrictions.

Tyra wondered whether he'd find them waiting for him at his house when he got home.

The young sire drove past the empty parking spots that were still available near the main gate and headed for the back lot. However, he couldn't find any available spaces in that parking lot. He drove back to the main lot and found a parking spot as far away from the front gate as possible.

Despite his efforts, though, as soon as he stepped out of the car, the reporters began shouting questions at him.

"Tyrallin, would you please look at the camera?"

"Mr. Alwick, how long have you known Mr. Silvestri? Is it true that you were planning to bond?"

"Just a few questions, Mr. Alwick!"

"Tyrallin, is that your girlfriend?"

The last question was directed at Sally, who managed not to look at the reporters. She stayed close to Tyra while Feadri grabbed his brother's hand. Just before they reached the building entrance, Tyra's homeroom teacher came out of the door. He looked a bit flustered.

"Oh, Mr. Alwick! There you are. The principal wants to see you in his office immediately."

Tyra made a small wince. "Can I at least put my stuff in my locker first?"

However, his teacher shook his head. "Better not. He was adamant that he wanted to see you as soon as possible. Go on to the office, and be sure to get a permission slip to take to your first class. You'll probably be late."

"Got it," Tyra said. He said his farewells to Sally and Feadri, who gave him sympathetic looks that made him want to scream with frustration.

He didn't need sympathy. He needed to talk to Elain.

He headed to the principal's office, and the secretary at the front desk waved him through.

The school principal sat behind his desk, frowning. He was a stern, no-nonsense man, and Tyra knew him all too well since he had often been called here, mostly because his teachers had been fed up with him wanting to prove his point at all costs, but he feared that he was now receiving the lecture of his life.

"Mr. Alwick, take a seat. I guess you already know why I wanted to see you. As a pupil of this school, you have a certain responsibility..."

Tyra didn't really listen. Like a criminal standing his trial he sat there, hoping it would be over soon.

The principal lectured him on this and that. Really, it was almost everything he had already heard from Elain and from his parents, but with a focus on Tyra's connection with the school, how his actions reflect on Blue Ridge High, and proper behavior as a student and young sire. Eventually, the principal slowed down and paused to look at Tyra. "Do you comprehend the gravity of the situation, young sire?"

Tyra nodded and replied with "I regret my actions, and I'm very seriously considering my errors, sir. I'm going to do everything I can to make amends."

The principal sighed and sat back heavily in his leather chair. "Very well. Go on, Mr. Alwick, get to class. And I sincerely hope this is the last time I have to call you in here. Think you can make it from now until graduation?"

Tyra gave a half shrug. "I'll do my best, sir."

"Good. Now off you go."

Tyra got up from the chair and left the principal's office. The secretary gave him a permission slip, and then Tyra made his way to the lockers. The hallways where deserted because classes had started already. Tyra opened his locker, unpacked his bag, and took the books he needed for his next class. He was in no hurry to get there, however.

But he couldn't stall indefinitely. With a deep breath, Tyra opened the door to his classroom. Immediately, twenty pairs of eyes locked on him, giving him sympathetic, pitiful, curious, amused, or snide looks.

He gave the permission slip to the teacher, who seemed supremely uninterested in the reason for his tardiness. He then went to his desk and sank down in the chair. Tyrallin resigned himself to getting through an agonizingly long day of school.

Over the course of the day, some of his classmates tried to approach him and ask about what was going on, but he avoided answering their questions and found excuses to escape conversation. When lunch time rolled around, he ate with his friends as usual, but he let the conversation drift over him and around him.

At the end of the day, he and Feadri and Sally met back at his car. Reporters still lingered outside the main gate.

Gladly they weren't so reckless as to jump into the car's way, but as Tyra drove by, the reporters shouted questions at him again.

"Damn those leeches! Isn't there a law against them harassing you?" Sally muttered under her breath.

Feadri shook his head. "No. They couldn't enter the school without permission, but here out on the street, we're fair game. I just hope they haven't found out where we live..."

Unfortunately, his hope was short-lived. When they reached the street where the Alwick's home was located, they could see at least a dozen reporters standing in front of the house. They hadn't entered the property, but Tyra had to get through them to reach the entrance of the house.

Sally sprinted for her own house the second she got out of the car. Tyrallin and Feadri got out, and Tyra ignored the reporter's questions, even the more personal and provocative ones, and he kept Feadri close to his side as they made their way to the house. The reporters followed them up the walk. When Tyra and Feadri were close to the house, Lissem opened the door for them and hurried them inside.

Once the door shut, Tyra turned to his father. "Dad, I am so sorry. I had no idea this would happen! They were at my school, too."

Instead of shouting at him, Lissem hugged Tyra firmly. "I know, honey. Your principal called a few hours ago. I'm afraid all we can do now is lay low, do nothing and wait for them to lose interest — although I was severely tempted to throw some sharp objects at those reporters for scaring my children."

Tyra felt himself relax a bit in his father's arms. "Thanks, dad."

"I wasn't scared," Feadri said. "In fact, I'll go give them an interview. I'll read them my latest biology report, and if that isn't enough, I'll start singing the periodic table song to them."

Lissem grabbed Feadri by the arm. "Don't do that, darling! It's bad enough they're after Tyra, but I know those tabloid press guys. You tell them anything, and tomorrow you'll grace the front page instead of your brother!"

"Aww, come on, dad, I was only joking," Feadri whined.

Lissem's mouth tightened into a thin line. "It's not really a joking matter, dear."

"Beloved?" Detrallin called out. "Can you bring the kids into the living room for a little chat?"

"Of course," Lissem responded. "Come on, you two, family meeting right now, and then, Feadri, you're helping me cook dinner."

Oh, gods, not another lecture, Tyra thought, but he dutifully followed his father into the living room.

It was indeed a rare occasion to see his sire at home during a weekday, but Tyra figured that since Detrallin's big project was finished, his sire could allow himself some free time.

"Sire, can't you chase those reporters away?" Feadri asked hopefully.

"No, I'm afraid not. I have to keep myself out of it, or my company will get trouble. I know it sounds heartless, but I won't help Tyra by causing even more reasons for them to haunt us."

"But there's another matter we wanted to talk about with you," Lissem said, sitting down on the couch. "Come on, sit down, you two. I sure you'll be happy to hear this."

Feadri perked up and bounced onto the couch. "Really? What's up, dad?"

Tyra tried to summon some enthusiasm, but he discovered that it was beyond him at the moment. He settled for flopping down on the couch next to Feadri and letting his little brother cover for his own lack of interest.

Detrallin came to Lissem's side. Lissem smiled up at his mate before looking at his two children again. "Well, I had a little trip to the doctor's office last Friday morning, and he was able to confirm it for me: I'm pregnant, so pretty soon we're going to have a new little face around the house. I hope you'll both be willing to lend a hand every now and then."

Tyra was taken aback. Of course, it wasn't too shocking, but he'd heard his father discuss returning to work on more than one occasion in the past year. "That's great," Tyra said, although he couldn't quite inflect the eagerness he knew he should have. "Of course we'll help."

"Of course! A cute little brother for me to cuddle? That's so great, dad!" Feadri cheered, beaming at his parents. "Then I won't be the baby in the family anymore."

"That doesn't mean you'll be allowed anything moreeverything from now on," Lissem warned him jokingly. "But I'm so glad to hear that you're happy, dear. But Tyra, honey, you don't look too thrilled."

"No, no, I'm happy. Feadri's gotten too smart, and he's catching onto my pranks, so I need somebody new to pick on," he joked, trying to reassure his father, although his heart really wasn't in it.

His parents seemed like they wanted to say something, but before they could, he asked, "Is it okay if I go to my room? There's something I want to do before dinner."

"Yes, of course," Lissem said. "Feadri, let's make some really nice dinner. I want to celebrate a bit, and those nasty reporters out there won't keep us from having a nice evening, right?"

"Right! But I hope you're not already in that phase of pregnancy where you want to eat chocolate together with dill pickles. Urgh." Feadri shuddered.

Lissem laughed. "No, not yet. But I remember that you, little imp, made me eat cookies with mustard. When your sire caught me eating that in the middle of the night, he was inclined to morning sickness himself."

Detrallin wrinkled his nose. "I remember."

Tyra caught only the first part of that conversation. He was already on his way to his room. As much as he wanted show the happiness about the prospect of getting another sibling, he just couldn't do it.

When he reached his room, Tyra sat down in front of the computer. He opened his email program and started a new message to Elain. For a long while, he simply stared at the blank screen. Eventually he began to type.

Dear Elain,

I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. At the same time, I didn't want to miss out on the chance to get to know you.

Please, if you can forgive me, I'd really like a second chance. This time we really do have everything out in the open. Just give me a chance, and I swear I'll make it up to you.

Yours,
Tyra

For a while, he looked over his message. He read it a few times. He switched "Yours" to "Sincerely" and then changed it back to "Yours" again. The message itself wasn't enough, but what he truly needed was a chance to talk to Elain in person and apologize properly. He couldn't ask for that yet but if he could at least establish communication....

"Tyra! Dinner's ready!"

Tyra quickly clicked the Send Email button before he could talk himself out of it.

"Be right down, dad!"

~*~

Elain got the email on the next day. As soon as he opened his email program, it was there, the sender address catching his eye immediately amidst all the others. Elain hesitated for a few moments, then he selected the message and read it.

Those few, simple lines hurt, and Elain could almost feel the desperation in them. He almost clicked the Reply button, but then he just shut down the program completely. He had no idea what to say, and so it was better if he didn't write anything back at all. It wasn't exactly polite, but Elain wanted to spare himself any more grief.

Before Elain could sink any deeper into his torturing thoughts, a knock on his door resounded through his office.

"Yes?"

It was Conroy. Elain's normally unaffected secretary looked deeply worried as he put a pile of tabloid newspapers and printouts from online gossip sites on the desk. "Sir, I'm afraid things are getting even worse."

Frowning, Elain took a look at the headlines and paled.

"Charity event host under suspicion of fraud," the first read. The next was no better: "The country's most famous club embezzling money?"

"Sir," said Conroy, "the PR rep is struggling to keep up. She was here until ten o'clock last night, and she came in at seven this morning. Shall I assign her a temporary assistant?"

"Yes, give her all the assistance and money she needs," Elain told him. Now that the initial shock was over, fury overtook him. "And I want to know where those rumors come from! I also want a statement from an independent surveyor to prove that we're not embezzling any donation money whatsoever!"

"Right away, sir," Conroy replied. "Also, you should know, we've been having a lot of calls from press sources, legitimate ones as well as the less savory kind, requesting personal interviews with you. You're scheduled to meet with the PR rep today at eleven o'clock, and she wanted me to inform you in advance that she's going to advise you to give an exclusive interview to a media source of her choosing."

Elain suppressed a groan. In dire situations like this, it was absolutely vital to come out and make a fearless statement, but he didn't like it one bit.

"Good, eleven o'clock. Any word from the charity organization yet? Or from our business partners?"

Conroy shook his head. "Not yet, sir. We'll call within the half hour if they don't beat us to it. Ah, well, and there's one more thing, sir." Conroy shifted somewhat awkwardly. "Mr. Ashton called. He has scheduled a meeting with you here at one o'clock this afternoon."

"Forests, not him today," Elain sighed. "Why didn't you tell him I'm busy?"

Conroy winced. "I tried, sir, but he insisted that it be today. Do you want me to cancel it, sir?"

"No, that would be even worse. Now please take this trash away. I need some time to prepare." Elain pointed at the tabloids. "And if anything else happens today that's not good news, wait until tomorrow before you tell me."

"Yes, sir." Conroy took the newspapers and left Elain's office.

Elain got up from his chair and started pacing back and forth. Obviously someone had taken the chance to drag the Velvet Shadow's good name through the mud even more by spreading these rumors about embezzling donation money. But why? What was to be gained here? There were no other clubs like the Velvet Shadow that could hope to lure members away. And Elain was quite sure he had no personal enemies.

Or had he?

Davaric Ashton wouldn't stoop so low, even if he was angry at Elain. But who else? Some small fish like that nasty couple of troublemakers that had been thrown out?

No, it had to be someone with more influence, or this rumor couldn't have been spread so quickly. And Elain was adamant about finding out who had done this.

At eleven o'clock, he met the PR rep in one of the conference rooms. Mrs. Walters was a smart-looking woman in her forties, the image of efficiency in her dark blue ladies' suit, plain hairdo, and stylish glasses.

"Mr. Silvestri, you have no small problem here, if I might say so," she announced. "I know that you don't like to make public appearances, but this time it's absolutely necessary."

"Yes, I know that," he replied, taking a seat opposite her. "What exactly do you have in mind?"

Mrs. Walters adjusted her glasses. "You are going to give an exclusive interview to the Wyndrah Celebrity. It's the largest and most renowned society magazine, and since they publish weekly, they didn't have a chance yet to print any article about those unfortunate events happening here."

Elain nodded. "I see. But do you think that will shut up the tabloid reporters?"

"Yes, of course. People trust a stylish glossy more than a newspaper in the long run. You'll make some clear, unemotional, and honest statements, and nobody will have any leverage again," she replied.

"I guess there will be personal questions, too?" Elain especially dreaded those.

Mrs. Walters smiled slightly. "Don't worry. That's why I'm here."

It took some hours before Elain and Mrs. Walters were content with the results of their plan, but finally they had agreed on everything. The PR rep called the Wyndrah Celebrity immediately, and the chief editor promised to send his best reporter the next morning. Since the magazine was published on Friday, it was perfect timing.

Elain managed to grab some lunch before he had to steel himself for his meeting with Davaric Ashton.

Promptly at one o'clock, Elain showed up in the conference room, where Davaric was already waiting for him. Davaric rose to greet him.

Elain, not in the mood for minding business etiquette, came directly to the point. "Mr. Ashton, what is the nature of this meeting? I hope you realize things are a little harried for me at the moment."

Mr. Ashton, accustomed to Elain's abruptness, responded smoothly. "The meeting is twofold, really. I wanted to discuss a modification to our promotion project; I think the change will be quite beneficial to you because it will show a sense of humor about the situation and also show that you aren't the least bit intimidated by a few silly rumors. As such, I'd like to propose to you that we rework the promotion and title it 'Intrigue.'" Mr. Ashton then paused and searched Elain's eyes for a moment. "I also wanted to see how you were doing."

"I appreciate the concern, but I'm fine given the circumstances," Elain told him. "So you propose that we use all this commotion for promotion purposes? I'm not sure if that's the best idea."

"Before you say 'no,' let me show you the proposal I've had my people draw up," Davaric said, and he opened a large leather case that held samples of the redesigned advertising campaign.

And so the meeting progressed, and Davaric presented his case for the last-minute change to the campaign. He made several points about the level of interest in the situation at the Velvet Shadow and the need to show a strong face to the public.

Elain agreed with him in that point, but he insisted that several things should remain the way they had originally decided. The rumors of embezzling money were offending on a personal level, not to mention the whole mess with Tyrallin, and he just wasn't so calloused as to use that to make more money.

Eventually the meeting came to a close as they finally reached an agreement about the promotional campaign. When the discussion came to a natural lull, Davaric took the opportunity to broach another subject that was on his mind.

"Elain, before we leave this meeting room, there's something I'd like to say. I know that you've said 'no' to me time and again for personal reasons, and I know that you're having a difficult time of it because of the relationship you had with that young sire," Davaric said, "but please keep me in mind if you need someone to talk to. I'd be more than willing to listen. I've had more than one troubled relationship in the past, partly due to my position and growing up in the Ashton family. And perhaps later, when you're feeling better about things, you could reconsider my suit. Think about it, Elain. What we could have is a relationship between equals, based on respect and understanding. I could prove to you that I'm not that bad if you'd only give me a little bit of your time." Davaric gave Elain a small, winsome smile.

For a moment, Elain was a bit stunned by those unusually direct words. He was so used to Davaric trying to lull him with compliments and promises that he had never expected words like "respect" and "understanding." It sounded almost tempting...

Elain shook his head, almost angry at himself for being caught in such a weak moment. Of course Davaric was playing with him again.

"I really appreciate the offer," he answered. "But I can assure you I'm through with relationships of any kind for the time being. If I ever change my mind, I'll make sure to tell you."

Davaric gave him a nod. "Completely understandable, but I'll be happy to leave that offer on the table." Davaric rose. "I suppose that concludes our business for today. I'll be heading back to my own office now, and I wish you luck in the next few days."

"Thank you." Elain got up from his seat as well. "Let's hope for the best. But I'm sure our new campaign will be a success."

"Of course," Davaric agreed. They shook hands, and the sire exited the conference room. Elain stayed there for a moment longer, thinking. He felt like everything he knew, everything he had control over, was slowly slipping away from him.

And he had to do something before it was too late.

To be continued...