Ashton cleared his throat loudly. “Have you two met?” He looked from her to Angelo, then back to her again.
Neither responded. Silence stretched for what seemed like eternity before Angelo finally said, “We haven’t been formally introduced.” He slowly moved toward her, watching Zenobia with the intensity of a lion zoning in on its prey and planning an attack.
She tried not to fidget under his perusal, but those eyes… His mesmerizing gaze rooted her in place, stole her breath, and practically had her panting. Which was a first. Definitely a first.
He stopped within inches of her, close enough to entice her with the scent of his cologne, a mixture of bergamot and a hint of citrus. Damn. He smelled as good as he looked, and her entire body heated at his nearness.
His eyes narrowed and he now studied her with a slight tilt of his head as if trying to figure out something. He reached up to remove her sunglasses and Zenobia stiffened, then stepped back on reflex. Her heart was already pounding erratically, and every nerve in her body went on high alert.
“Relax, sweetheart,” he said gently. His hypnotic voice, smooth as butter, sent a shiver scurrying up her spine. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Zenobia’s breathing evened out and her shoulders relaxed almost instantly as if being under some spell. She had never responded to any man this way before. Instead of feeling embarrassed, knowing he probably could see her bruised skin just below her sunglasses, an unexplainable comfort settled around her. A peace she hadn’t felt in, like, forever.
After a slight hesitation and with a controlled slowness, Angelo removed the glasses. His eyes widened. “Who did this to you?” The growl of his voice was mixed with disbelief and anger as his jaw clenched and unclenched.
There was no doubt that he was a protector by nature, but Zenobia was a little surprised by his reaction. He didn’t know her. She had stolen from him. And it looked like he, too, had gotten a little roughed up the day before if the slight bruise on his cheek was any indication. Part of her wanted to reach out and touch his jaw, and hope that it didn’t hurt as much as her eye had hurt the day before. She also wanted to wipe away the frown marring his beautiful face. She would never be able to properly express how much she appreciated his help the day before. His concern about her bruise was sweet.
When she had awakened that morning, her eye looked worse than it had the day before, but not as painful. Since she hadn’t been diligent about keeping an ice pack on it, she was definitely going to start today. Going to the hospital for a black eye was out of the question, though.
If Angelo had noticed the darkness and swelling around the eye even behind her glasses, clearly the little makeup job she’d done earlier hadn’t been enough.
“It happened yesterday,” she finally said. “When you saved me.”
*
Anger gnawed inside of Angelo’s gut at the sight of Zenobia’s black eye. He’d had no idea that she’d been injured. He knew nothing about this woman, except for what was portrayed through the media. But a protectiveness he couldn’t explain charged through his body. If he ever got his hands on those bastards again, he would make them sorry they’d ever laid hands on her.
Slowly reining in his anger and still holding her shades, Angelo took in her appearance. Her hair, black with light brown highlights, was thick and a little unruly and hung loosely just past her shoulders. She looked as if she had just rolled out of bed, ran her fingers through the strands, and then slipped into a shirt and the first pair of worn jeans she found. Even with her carefree appearance, black eye and all, Zenobia Westfield was still the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.
“If you two are done ogling each other, will one of you care to tell me what I’ve missed?” Ashton asked, then turned to Zenobia. “You told me a jogger stopped and helped you get away. You never said it was Angelo.”
She gave a slight shrug. “I—I had no idea you two knew each other.”
“How do the two of you know each other?” Angelo asked, hoping they weren’t a couple. Then again, why would it matter? He might be crazy-attracted to the woman and wanted to get to know her better, but that wasn’t going to happen.
Ashton’s right brow lifted and he looked at Angelo pointedly. “We’re friends. She’s like a sister to me.”
Angelo nodded, understanding the warning behind the words and the tone, but glad to hear they weren’t more than friends. Right now, it didn’t matter. If she was there to seek personal security, then she was off limits. The company didn’t have any specific rules about fraternizing or getting involved with clients, but Angelo had his own rules. Besides, he wasn’t the commitment type of guy, and she probably wasn’t into flings, which was all he’d ever be interested in.
“Besides running into each other yesterday, have you guys met before? You seem awfully…familiar with each other,” Parker said from behind him.
Angelo glanced over his shoulder at the security specialist. He had temporarily forgotten that he was nearby. Parker, a former SWAT officer, had moved from Chicago to Atlanta a little more than a year ago. His question reminded Angelo of the conversation with Myles about how Parker wanted to get with Zen.
“This is our first time meeting. Officially, I mean,” Angelo explained. He and Zenobia might’ve just been introduced, but he was pretty sure Parker and Ashton picked up on the sexual vibe between them. They had a connection. It didn’t make sense, especially since they’d just met, but whatever was transpiring between them was too strong to go unnoticed.
The desk phone beeped, signaling a call from one of the managers upstairs. Parker walked back around the long counter to answer the call.
Angelo handed Zenobia her shades. “You need to get that eye checked out.” The makeup covered the bruising some, but as a person who’d had his share of black eyes, hers looked pretty bad.
Zenobia lifted her chin defiantly. “Like I told Ashton, I’m not going to a hospital.” She met Angelo’s gaze as if daring him to try and make her.
Beautiful and stubborn. My type of woman.
Angelo’s lips quirked, but he fought the smile threatening to break through.
“Mason will be down shortly to meet with you, Ms. Westfield,” Parker said. “He asked that I show you to conference room A.”
She and Ashton followed behind Parker.
“While you’re in your meeting,” Angelo called out, and Zenobia stopped and turned to him. “I’ll contact a doctor who makes house calls.” Angelo pulled his phone from the front pocket of his pants, hoping his brother had time to stop by Supreme.
Zenobia backtracked and stopped in front of him. “By the way, I’m sorry about the wallet situation,” she said, only loud enough for him to hear. “I hope it didn’t cause you too much of an inconvenience.”
“No harm done, but I do have questions about your, um, unique skill,” he said and gave a slight smile. If he was honest, he was a little impressed that she’d been able to lift his wallet without him realizing it immediately.
She batted her long eyelashes and glanced away, a shy smile lifting the right corner of her luscious lips. When she looked at him again, she asked, “Would you mind sitting in on the meeting?”
Angelo searched her eyes, wondering why she’d want him to be a part of the meeting. Normally, those meetings were run by one or two of the managers. However, if Angelo accepted her request, it would give him a chance to find out what was up with the kidnapping attempt.
“Sure. I’ll be right there.”
Chapter Five
“So, you think the kidnapping and the incidents at the lake house are connected?” Mason Bennett, the owner of Supreme Security-Atlanta, asked.
Zenobia was slow to respond, noting how the other man, Hamilton Crosby, a managing partner, was watching her. Yet, it was Mason who unnerved her. A big guy with a bald head, dark skin, plus a little scruff on his face, and intense eyes that had him looking handsome and dangerous at the same time. It wasn’t his large presence that gave her
pause, though. No, it was the way he studied her, as if trying to determine if she was being completely honest with them. His unwavering stare was a bit unsettling. It had been that way from the moment he’d walked into the large conference room.
Before leaving a short while ago, Ashton assured her that she was in good hands. Zenobia didn’t doubt him, especially after Mason told her more about the company. She wished that she’d hired them months ago—the first time she shopped for personal security. Their professionalism was evident in the way they spoke, how they presented themselves, and even in the way they dressed. Their team looked like they meant business. She was even impressed to learn that their security team was made up of individuals from various branches of law enforcement and many had military backgrounds, like Mason.
And then there was Angelo. He had eased into the room twenty minutes ago, and her gaze kept drifting to where he stood leaning against a nearby wall with his arms folded across his chest. If he was trying to stay in the background and not be a distraction, he was failing miserably. There was something so magnetic, a sensual pull between them that even if he was in another part of the building, she’d be able to feel his presence.
“Zenobia?” Mason prompted, and her eyes snapped to him.
“Oh, sorry. I—I honestly don’t know if there’s a connection between the incidences. It’s the timing that has me thinking that could be a possibility. I returned to Atlanta less than twenty-four hours before the attempted kidnapping. Only a few people knew I had cut my trip short.”
“People in your inner circle,” Hamilton said, his deep voice as powerful as his presence.
Another notable thing about Supreme was that they had some of the finest-looking men she’d ever met. Which said a lot since she was in the entertainment industry and encountered plenty of nice-looking men. Mason had referred to his team as Atlanta’s Finest, and she had to agree that the name fit them in more ways than one.
“Yes, the people who are the closest to me are the only ones who knew my itinerary.”
Disappointment clawed through her body and settled in her chest at the thought that one of them might be out to hurt her. As a newbie in the music industry, the circle of people she associated with had grown, but there were only a select few that she let get close. She didn’t have much family, nor did she have many friends. There had been a few people she’d cut loose after leaving Miami, but that had been years ago. Why would someone suddenly target her?
Mason tapped his pen against the yellow legal pad in front of him. “You mentioned that your cousin, your housekeeper, and your manager Octavia Hilton, as well as an assistant, were the only people who knew you were at the lake house.”
“That’s correct.”
“But it’s possible that one of them told someone, intentionally or unintentionally,” Hamilton said.
“Yes, I guess that’s possible.”
“Or maybe someone in town recognized you,” he continued.
“I doubt anyone in Lake Lanier recognized me. I barely left the house. Even if someone had recognized me, I can’t see them sending flowers. The person used my real name Zenobia, instead of my stage name Zen,” she explained.
Staying at Lake Lanier to work on a couple of songs had been the plan. Then she started getting hang-up calls, but didn’t think much of them. It wasn’t until flowers were delivered that she started to think something was going on. Zenobia couldn’t remember the last time she’d received flowers. Those who knew she was there insisted they hadn’t sent them. What really disturbed her was the fact that she was staying at the house under an alias—yet the flowers were addressed to her.
“I can’t wrap my brain around who or why someone is targeting me,” Zenobia said, frustration punctuating her words. She was physically and mentally tired, but she needed to figure out what was going on. Soon she’d be dropping her next album and then going on a short tour to promote it. But she didn’t want to do that with some unknown enemy lurking out there.
“What did the cops say regarding the break-in at the lake house?” Hamilton asked.
Zenobia shuddered at the thought, remembering how she had returned to the house after a long run and found the back door ajar.
“They claimed that since there wasn’t forced entry and that nothing had been taken, there was nothing they could do. Dusting for fingerprints was out of the question. There would’ve been too many, considering it’s a rental.”
“And you’re sure you set the alarm and locked the doors before going for your run?” Hamilton asked.
Zenobia was trying not to take offense to their questions, but they were acting as if they didn’t believe her.
“I’m positive. Someone had been in that house. While the cops were there, I called the leasing office and they assured me that they changed the door code after every guest.” Zenobia took a breath, realizing she was getting worked up, remembering how scared she’d been. “Before the cops left, I packed my bags and I left when they did. Then I drove back to Atlanta.”
Hamilton nodded, looking as if he wanted to say more, but Angelo spoke.
“I don’t think the lake house issues are connected to the kidnapping,” he said. He hadn’t spoken since easing into the conference room. “Why wait until she was back in Atlanta to snatch her up when they could’ve tried to get her at the house?”
Okay, that was a good point, Zenobia thought, but that still didn’t answer the questions: Who was trying to get to her and why?
“You’re probably right,” Hamilton said to Angelo, then turned to Zenobia. “We’re asking these types of questions because we do more than just provide personal security. In situations like yours, not only would we offer protection, but we’d also do some investigating. Keeping you safe would be our top priority while we try to determine the who and the why regarding these instances.”
He might be trying to set her mind at ease, but knowing that they would be digging into her life had her on edge. Some things were better left buried, especially her past life. A life that she had walked away from and tried not to look back on. If Atlanta’s Finest were as good as Ashton claimed, how much of her past would come to light?
Zenobia swallowed hard at the disturbing thought. She might need their protection, but what she didn’t need was anyone poking at the hornet’s nest of her past.
“Tell us about this photo and your relationship with Stephen Landry.” Mason handed over his iPad and Zenobia groaned. “Is it possible that he’s behind any of this?”
Zenobia explained their history. Discussing Stephen and their ridiculous past was enough to remind her what a horrible judge of character she was when it came to men. Which was why she’d been taking a break from dating. That, and she needed to stay focused on her career.
“He’s never done anything to physically hurt me, and I can’t see him trying to have me kidnapped. I’ll admit that he caught me off guard with that kiss, but that happened weeks ago. What the photo doesn’t show is me shoving him away. I have no idea why the picture has suddenly surfaced, and I have no idea who might’ve taken it.”
“What about Octavia Hilton?” Mason asked of her manager. “You said that she’s always trying to keep you in the public’s eye. Could she have leaked the photo? Or maybe someone from Stephen’s camp?”
“It’s possible that Octavia is behind the picture. I don’t know that for sure since I haven’t spoken to her. Right now, she’s out of the country, but I wouldn’t put anything past her.”
Octavia was great at managing Zenobia’s music career and keeping her in the spotlight, but some of her unsavory methods made her uncomfortable. Like the time Zenobia ended up in the emergency room with a sprained ankle. She had called Octavia, informing her that she’d be late for their meeting. Paparazzi were camped out in front of the hospital by the time Zenobia was ready to leave. Octavia had admitted being the one to contact them, saying all publicity is good publicity.
“She insists that I need to stay relevant and in the spotli
ght for my fans, and she doesn’t care about the circumstances.”
“Why’d you tell your ex that you were seeing someone?” That question came from Angelo.
Zenobia stared down at her lap where her hands were folded. What must he think of her? She’d stolen from him, and now she had admitted to lying to her ex-boyfriend.
“Despite me telling Stephen that I wasn’t interested in us reconnecting, he’s been calling and showing up at my house. So, the last time I saw him, I told him I was involved with someone and that he needed to back off.”
Angelo’s narrowed gaze bore into her. “Yet, you don’t believe he’s behind the attempted kidnapping or the incidents at the lake house.” What was it with the men at Supreme? Did they all go through some type of training that taught them how to stare people down?
“I honestly don’t know who is out to get me,” Zenobia bit out. “All I know is that someone is trying to make me think that I’m going crazy, and trying to cause me harm.”
“Yet,” Angelo continued, “you were out running alone yesterday in an unfamiliar neighborhood where anyone could have snatched you.”
“Okay, let’s dial it down some,” Hamilton said, eyeing Angelo as if carrying on some secret conversation.
Angelo pushed away from the wall and ran his fingers through his hair. “My apologies,” he said, his gaze pinning her in place.
All she could do was nod. In hindsight, maybe jogging alone hadn’t been the best idea in light of the incidences that had happened days earlier. When she’d gotten up that morning, after a long drive the day before, she needed air. The thought of not being safe hadn’t crossed her mind.
“I always run by myself,” she attempted to explain. “I usually wear some form of a disguise, either a cap, sunglasses, or something. I’ve never had any problems.”
Betrayed Page 4
