Trouble in Paradise?

Only two months following the announcement of their engagement, entrepreneurial billionaire, Aiden Carlisle and his fiancée, spokesmodel for Versatility, Caroline Baxter seem to have called it quits.

The couple, pictured above en route to a private dinner date at Chez Rosé, seemed to have a whirlwind romance which blossomed into planning one of the biggest weddings of the century, aided by none other than wedding planners' finest, Rosalie Darling.

The news of the split comes from a trusted source, but neither Caroline nor Aiden have come forward with a confirmation or denial of this.

The news has begun to stir the rumours that have been mere whispers ever since the announcement that there is no relationship as such to even speak of. The couple has never been pictured together in each other's company prior to their engagement. The news of their wedding announcement seemed to be a surprise to many close to them as well.

This begs the question: Were they even together at all?

If not, why were they even getting married?

The office of Aiden Carlisle and Caroline Baxter's publicist have not been available for comment.

I smacked the paper on to the tabletop making Carmelina, who was peacefully dusting the cabinet near me while softly humming to herself, jump.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Carlisle?" she asked, turning to look at me.

"No, Carmelina," I dismissed, burying my head in my hand and rubbing my eyes, "I think I'm done with my breakfast."

I heard her take the few steps to come over to me. "But you have not finished your toast," she told me, "It's not a good breakfast if you don't finish the toast."

I exhaled deeply and looked at her. "I've had enough, Carmelina. Thank you," I said, getting up, "I'll be heading out in a while."

"Will you come for lunch?" she asked, extremely concerned about my eating.

"You make whatever you like for lunch, Carmelina. I don't think I'll be home for lunch," I told her, walking away and up the stairs to my bedroom.

Carmelina was someone I associated very closely. She was always in my house and saw my moods and behaviours. Never in my life had I doubted her loyalty, so I knew that there was no way that she told the press about the breakup, especially since she wasn't even there when it happened.

When my phone rang, I prayed that it wasn't my father, but of course, it was.

"Aiden," he barked down the phone the moment I answered, not even waiting for me to say hello, "What the hell is this?"

"Dad," I said, trying to calm him down.

"I know you didn't want this, but this is what you do for your family," he spat at me.

"Do you seriously believe everything you read in the press?" I shouted back.

There was silence.

"Are you telling me this is untrue?" he asked, "You're telling me that this article about your split is a lie?"

"Of course, it is," I lied, "I would expect you not the believe everything the paparazzi tells you."

"What's this trusted source, Aiden?" he asked.

"Another lie, Dad," I told him, "Caroline and I had a little argument, but there's nothing to worry about. Alright?"

"There better not be, Aiden," he told me, firmly, "It is also your responsibility to see that our reputation is maintained."

"I know, Dad."

"And Aiden, stop being a fool. Give the woman what she wants and be done with it," he told me, almost tired, "God knows you can afford it."

And then, in true fatherly fashion, he hung up.

I rolled my eyes and tossed my phone on to my bed. Barely paying attention to what I was doing, I threw on a white sweater and some pants and shoes, got my car keys and left the house as soon as I could.

I couldn't believe this betrayal.

It hadn't even been two days since I told Rosalie about the break up and there was already an article about it in the papers.

When I arrived at her apartment building, the man at the front desk let me up since he knew who I was and that I had been there before. I marched up to her door with the newspaper clutched in my hand, unable to wrap my head around what had happened since the night before.

A few moments later, I heard the door unlock from the inside and then the door opened to reveal Rosalie, wearing a pair of grey sweatpants, an oversized sweater and a look of confusion mixed with concern. Her eyes were widened as she lightly bit her bottom lip, like she was wondering whether I knew that she was the one who ate the last cookie in the cookie jar.

"Aiden," she said, softly, poking her head out of the door, "Is something wrong?"

Seeing her made me almost forget what I had come for, but when she said wrong, I shook my head and focused.

"You tell me, Rosalie," I told her, firmly, "Have you seen the paper today?"

She opened the door wider and stood up straight, her eyes widening even more and her expression turning worried. "No, I haven't," she said, shaking her head once.

"Would you like to know what today's paper says?" I asked her, controlling my voice.

Rosalie moved to a side. "Would you like to come in?" she asked.

I took a few steps in and she closed the door. I turned to her to see that she hadn't moved from the door. Her hand was still on the door knob.

"Only two months following the announcement of their engagement, Aiden Carlisle and his fiancée, spokesmodel for Versatility, Caroline Baxter seem to have called it quits," I read from the paper and turned then turned it for her to see.

Her brow was furrowed as she looked at my face and then slowly moved her gaze to the paper. She took her hand off the doorknob and moved slowly closer to me. She then took the newspaper out of my head and read through the article.

I watched as her furrowed brow relaxed and then rose in surprise, as she finished reading it. She raised her eyes to look at me.

"How did they find out?" she asked me.

"That's exactly what I want to know," I said, looking back at her.

She looked up at me, confusion clouding her clear blue eyes. "Are you asking me?" she asked, her brow knitting together again.

"Well, you see, Rosalie, when it was only Caroline and myself who knew of the breakup, no one knew about it, but not even two days after you learned about it, here it is in a newspaper," I said, tapping the page she was holding.

Slowly, I saw the realization of my accusation dawn on her face and her eyes widened once more.

"Aiden, you can't possibly believe that this was me!" she said, shaking her head vigorously, "I gave you my word that I wouldn't tell anyone."

"And yet, here it is in the paper," I told her, sternly.

"Aiden, I promise you that this wasn't me," Rosalie told me, "I would never betray your trust like that."

"No one else knows about this, Rosalie," I told her, "And I sure as hell haven't told anyone."

"After leaving your house, I came straight home," Rosalie said, almost pleading with her eyes, "And I've been at home ever since. Look at this place."

She gestured to her living room. The coffee table and her dining table was strewn with board, binders, books and fabrics.

"I've been working on some weddings since I got home on Friday. I've had all my meals ordered in. I haven't set foot out of the house. I haven't had the time to tell anyone," she said.

"Then how did the press hear about it?" I asked her, starting to feel bad about accusing her, especially when she looked so sincere.

"I don't know, Aiden."

"Rosalie, don't lie to me."

She sighed.

"Aiden, I told you the day we met that confidentiality is a part of our agreement. Among other things, I'm a good businesswoman and I think you know that. You know that I wouldn't violate a legal document," she reasoned.

My shoulders, which had been tensed unbeknownst to me, relaxed. There was a lot of sense in what she said.

"I can't believe this has happened," I told her, running a hand through my hair and remembering only then that I didn't even remember to comb it before I left the house. I plopped myself down on the arm of her couch, "And it's going to be difficult to convince my father that everything is alright."

"I'm sure your Dad will understand when you say you've had an argument," Rosalie told me, comfortingly.

She came forward and touched my arm. I looked at her hand, small and dainty against my arm, and then looked up at her.

"He won't. It's complicated," I breathed out, realizing how close to me she was standing. When I was seated, she and I were eye level. I had never seen her eyes so closely before. The colour almost shaded from light to dark. It was beautiful.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Rosalie asked, softly, her breath warming my face.

An involuntary, humourless laugh escaped me. "This whole situation is quite strange, Rosalie," I told her, getting up. I didn't think being so close to her would be a good idea. "I don't think you need to take on the burden."

She gave me a small smile and handed me back the newspaper. "Well, if you do want some help, you know where I live," she shrugged.

"Thanks," I said, walking with her to the door, "And Rosalie –"

She held up her hand. "Don't mention it."

I smiled and walked away, knowing full well where I was going next. I got in my car and drove to the building that I hadn't been to in years. Not since I had a small fling with a girl who was a paparazzi.

People stopped working and straightened to look at me as I walked down the hallway to get to the door I wanted. I threw the door open and all the heads inside turned to me.

I held the newspaper up in the air. "Someone, tell me who wrote this article right now!" I said.

There was a silence as people in the room looked at each other. They were all paparazzi who sold their articles to the highest bidder.

"I will find out if you don't tell me," I warned, "It's just a matter of time. If you don't want a lawsuit, you'll own up."

There was another silence and then a chair scraped across the floor and a man stood up.

Jeff Bradley.

One of the most notorious members of the paparazzi. He was always up to no good.

"Come here, Jeff," I told him, gesturing him over to me.

I pulled him into the hall and closed the door. He looked up at me, trying to be expressionless.

Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a hundred dollar note and showed it to him. Then, I folded it and put it into the breast pocket of his shirt.

"Now, Jeff," I said, stepping as close to him as I could, "I think you should tell me who it is that told you anything about a split."

He looked at me and gulped. I raised my eyebrow.

"It was Caroline," he said, quickly.

I scoffed. "You really expect me to believe that, you weasel? I know Caroline didn't tell you."

I took another step towards him and leaned in, trapping him against the wall and he held up his hands.

"I was at a bar a few towns over," he explained, "And she was there, sitting in the back. No one else really recognized her, but I did. I sat down and she had already had a few drinks and she sort of spilled out a lot of things and she happened to mention that she and her fiancé broke up."

I straightened myself. "Well, Jeff, I'm happy to tell you that you don't have to worry about Caroline and I. We're doing just fine."

"Yes, sir," he nodded.

"And if you ever write about my love life again, I'll make sure you never see the sight of a newspaper again, do you understand?" I spat.

He nodded again.

I walked away, annoyed at Caroline for being so careless.

There was just one other thing that was in my mind: I owed Rosalie an apology.

*

I would love to know if my demographics are right and what time I should upload, so please comment and let me know where you are from! :)

Guys, I woke up to this story being #20 in BAD BOY. Wow! I find that completely insane. There are so many stories in that genre and my story is #20!

I appreciate your support immensely.

Thank you a million times!

As a treat, I think I will do a double update today as well! ;)