That stopped now. Right now. I would make sure of it.
I knew by definition I wasn’t in the position to throw stones. I was an outgoing introvert at the best of times with a huge case of low self-esteem I hid behind snappy words and quick thinking. However, if I wasn’t making things up, he may have social anxiety issues I’d never considered before.
I leaned over, placed my chin on his shoulder and stared out his window with him. He stiffened, which was a surprise, considering how much he liked to invade my personal bubble so I ignored it.
“Anything interesting out there?” I asked. I could do this. I would be a friend. I knew how to be a friend.
My libido would even calm the fuck down once I’ve been properly friend zoned. This was actually a great idea. Of course, that was as long as I kept my emotions outside the equation.
“No. Every city starts to look the same after a while.”
“It’s only been a week.”
He shrugged with my chin still on his shoulder. “I’ve been here before.”
I calculated time in my head and figured hell, why not? He’d already fucked my schedule. “Have you seen the Hollywood stars?”
“Yes.”
Well, okay. I could still play this right. “Were they cool? I’ve never been here. This is probably the only view of Los Angeles I’ll ever get.”
When he turned to look at me I had to lean back or risk his mouth touching some part of me that I don’t think I could handle without a total meltdown. I shrugged at his expression.
“But you were a Broadway tour manager,” he protested.
“Musicals aren’t as high in demand as you might think. I’ve been to Seattle of course. And there’s a theater in Pasadena that does shows for tours since the theaters within the city are generally reserved years in advanced by the TV studios for some film or another.” I shrugged. “Your show tonight is being held in a theater space in Anaheim, not actually LA.”
“If you’d come with me to the Garden party we could stop on the way. It would only take a minute.”
I shrugged and smiled on the inside. “Maybe.”
When the car stopped I turned to my door and waited for Henry to pull it open. I stepped out, stretched in the sun and turned to Nicholas. He glanced down at me when he stepped out but held his silence.
Unbothered by his moods, I walked him to his door and waited for him close himself in. I turned to Henry. “We’ll need the car in about an hour and a half.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
No one can say I hadn’t at least tried to be beautiful. The white chiffon dress with its red floral print rising from the bottom hem was beautifully cut and accented my figure in a way only good clothes could. My pretty rhinestone adorned heels seemed to be made for the dress. I had decided against pulling up my hair and spiral curled the ends and pinned the sides behind my ears.
The skirt was also full enough that my gun hid cleanly under it. I would have found a way even if it hadn’t—I hadn’t been without my guns in eight years. I wasn’t about to start now.
Of course the guys had been right about the lipstick and only I knew the scar was there. The natural eyes shadow accented the blue in my right eye, which I thought was cool. The only thing that took any amount of time was the debate between my glasses or contacts. I didn’t wear the contacts often, I hadn’t even opened the box yet for this tour, but considering the critique of my glasses by Maggie Mae the contacts won the toss.
Since I was sure he hadn’t brought anything in to wear to the Garden Party and he was safe with Henry, I ran out to the bus before knocking on Nicholas’s door. The stone slacks would match the brick colored button down well, and I decided against hassling with a tie. He’d have it off inside of ten minutes. Why bother?
When I returned upstairs I noticed Henry outside of Nicholas’s room. Henry held up his hands in surrender before I even said anything.
“It’s not my job to argue with him. I’m only paid to protect him.”
When I stepped closer I could hear the moaning girl and gritted my teeth. “How long?”
“About fifteen minutes.”
I didn’t rub my eyes. Couldn’t ruin my makeup. Instead, I pressed a finger hard against my temple. “No one leaves this hall without my permission. Especially the girl.” I only prayed it wasn’t one of the Dolls.
He lifted his chin. “Understood.”
“And,” I pulled the key card to Nicholas’s room out of my bag, “ignore anything you hear. This isn’t going to be pleasant.”
His brows furrowed. “My job is to protect you too.”
“He’s probably the one you need to worry about.” The words slipped out in a low rumble before I sighed and said louder. “Walker won’t hurt me. He might want to, but I don’t think he will.” Using the door key I stepped into the room and let the door close quietly behind me. Besides, I was more than capable of protecting myself.
The busy couple hadn’t even noticed my entrance and wasn’t it handy that Nicholas wore a belt today? I pulled the belt off the pants and stepped up behind the rutting couple to smack the belt—decently hard, but I wasn’t trying to hurt him—against Nicholas’s naked ass.
He yelped, jerked back far enough to slide completely out of his companion and twisting to look at me. When he saw me he scrambled and knocked himself off the bed. He had the decency to grab for the sheet at least to cover his erection.
The girl squealed and grabbed for the other side of the sheet to try and cover up. I ignored her for the moment and strolled over to Nicholas. I held out the clothes.
“You’ve already ruined my schedule. You’re not about to fuck the one Ezra set up. Get up and get dressed. We have a party to attend.”
Wisely—probably because I sounded clearly pissed—he took the clothes without speaking and walked into the bathroom closing the door noiselessly. I ignored the tension in my chest. Disgust—maybe it was disappointment—could wait until later.
I turned to the girl who had the decency to already be pulling on clothes. A hotel uniform. Well that explained a great deal and relieved some of the stress of having to explain this to Denton.
“You have some papers to sign.”
She gapped at me.
“One’s a gag order. You’re not allowed to discuss this. And the other is a sexual conduct agreement. You can’t come back later and say he raped you. If you don’t sign the papers I go to the hotel manager, make sure you get fired and we’ll take necessary legal action. Anything you say beyond that point will just ruin you. What’s your pick?”
She stood and tossed her hair back. “You don’t have that kind of power.”
“Security is at the door. You can’t leave this room without making a decision and trust me when I say, in this matter I am the right hand of God. I can ruin you before you get a chance to ruin Mr. Walker, and I will.”
Her mouth opened and closed before the tears started to fall and she looked down at her feet. “I’ll sign your papers.” All signs of defiance of her little rebellion were gone.
“Wise choice.”
Once the phablet was signed, I guided her out to Henry. He gave me a glance that spoke of admiration and held out an elbow for the girl. “Let me show you back downstairs.”
“Don’t forget the car, Henry.”
“No. Ma’am.”
“You look very nice. I like the contacts. I can see your eyes better. You have fantastic eyes.” Nicholas’s third attempt at breaking my furious silence remained as neglected as the first two attempts. None of his attempts had included an apology so I wasn’t in the mood to hear it.
Thankfully the drive to the park hosting the party was short—we did not stop at the Hollywood stars—and enduring his scent or attempts ephemeral. When he stepped out of the SUV he held out his arms and manners dictated I accept. That still didn’t mean I was required to speak to him.
“Nicholas. I’m so pleased to see you had time for me.” I watched the tall, slender woman approach
. I’d seen her before on screen and she looked rather frail in person in comparison. She wore a white sundress and had left her hair as loose and free as mine. Some smug part of me pointed out my curls held better than hers.
“Angelina,” Nicholas shook her hand and stiffly kissed a cheek.
Bulbs flashed and internally I cringed. I hadn’t been photographed in a very long time. I hoped if these ever went to print no one would remember the old me.
Her eyes fell on me. The curiosity was there but under friendly politeness. “And who is your companion?”
“Miss Bianca Sheridan,” Nicholas said.
“What a wonderful old fashioned name. They’re so rare these days.” She smiled and held out a hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine.” I shook as was polite and released as soon as manners dictated I could.
“Thank you for coming. Please, enjoy yourselves. The buffet is set up under the white tents.” She gestured with an arm.
“Thanks, Angelina.” Nicholas guided us away from the hostess and I resumed my silence. The cameras followed and I ignored them almost as well as I ignored the man under my hand.
There were tables set up across the lawn and Nicholas nodded hello to several people that called out to him but never stopped. I knew from Bluejay, Nicholas didn’t like to be in the center of things. He was an observer not a participant.
“Nicky,” a woman’s voice crooned and Nicholas’s arm under my hand turned to steel but he kept walking. At least until the woman stepped out in front of him quickly blocking his path. “Nicky, don’t you remember?”
“Dilynne.” Nicholas’s voice held no warmth and even I shivered from the chill.
When she glanced me over with hard blue eyes I lifted my chin and stared directly back. Her lips curled in vicious amusement when she reached my face.
“I don’t recall seeing your friend before.”
I flicked her a disinterested glance over her sadly lacking wardrobe and then leveled her with a cool, thin smile. No taste. She was dressed like a desperate whore. While I would love to tell her so, I wouldn’t stoop to petty. I was better than that.
She glared but most couldn’t hold up to my unwavering silent ridicule. When she fluttered nervously after a few seconds, I smiled enough to show some teeth. She turned an interesting shade of red but from embarrassment or anger I couldn’t and didn’t care.
Nicholas coughed, and I could swear he covered a laugh. “Dilynne, if you’ll excuse us, I’d like to entertain my friend.”
Nicholas stepped around her and led us away from the stunned actress. He patted my hand. “I think we’re about even on the rude scale, Songbird.”
Like hell we were but I was still too angry at him to speak to him directly. I let him bask in silence for the rest of the party. By the look on his face, he wasn’t happy about that. With every passing moment his anger bled a little more into his eyes. Oh, fucking well.
Arc and Max grinned when I stepped into their dressing room to check on status.
“Doesn’t someone look pretty?” Arc asked Max and I rolled my eyes.
Instead of going back to the hotel after the garden party, I had Henry drive us straight to the stage. Nicholas had stage clothes already here, and I would have only changed into a dress suit before coming out. The dress was too pretty to shelf so quickly.
“Sure does.” Max winked. “Those shoes are great, Stilts. Don’t think you’ve worn those ones yet.”
“What is your obsession with my shoes?” I asked shaking my head. “They’re just shoes.”
“That make your legs look like a celestial carving of alabaster.” Arc wiggled his eyebrows.
“Poetry, Arc?” I batted my eye lashes at him. “Are you declaring your intentions?”
I had the great pleasure of seeing him flush.
A loud crashing sound had me jolt and second later, Guy staggered into the room, his head bleeding.
“Oh my God,” I raced over and pushed him into the nearest chair. “Are you okay? What happened? Someone get me a first aid kit.”
“Ah, Nick.” Guy’s eyes focused in for a second then out.
The crashing sounds continued and I knew what he didn’t say. Son of a bitch. Not when there was supposed to be a concert in an hour.
“Max, clean up his head, get a wet cloth. Guy, lean back and close your eyes. Take a few minutes.”
Arc grabbed my arm. “You’re not going over there.”
I shrugged him off. “It’s my job.”
The vase of flowers smashed against the wall next to the door when I stepped in. I deserved brownie points for not flinching or dropping to the ground in fear. Nicholas stood on the far side of the mess leaning against the broken, wall height vanity mirror wearing only his stage pants.
“Nicholas Sebastian Walker! Don’t you dare throw another damn thing or I’ll take the belt to you again. I swear you weren’t spanked enough as a child.”
“Get out,” he roared spinning around to face me. “Get the fuck out.”
I marched across the wreckage of the room, and thankfully my heels put me at eye level to him. I lifted a hand and slapped him across the face with all the force I could muster. I’d officially had enough of his anger to last a lifetime. “Don’t you fucking talk to me like that. I am so sick and tired of your fucking childish behavior. Act like a grown fucking adult.”
The hand that had slapped across his face was grabbed at the wrist so fast I barely had time to protest. His rapid movement blocked the hand I raised against his naked chest denying me leverage to shove him away. He twisted us around and pinned me to the mirror with his body. The breath knocked out of me and then rushed back so fast I sounded like I had run a mile. He didn’t notice.
My hand was pulled above my head and firmly shoved against the cold glass. His free hand caught my flailing hand and pushed that up to rest next to my other hand.
His mouth wasn’t gentle against mine. His teeth nipped and his stubble burned. His anger translated all too clearly in his hard press and ragged breathing.
I didn’t fight him. I wasn’t strong enough to fight him, I knew that. And fighting him could make things a hell of a lot worse.
Closing my eyes I waited for the storm to pass. I wasn’t sure what I would do, could do if he tried anything other than kiss me and the fear of that send a trickle of tears down my cheek.
My heart stumbled then picked up and rapped against my ribcage in the fleeting beats of terror. My stomach roiled and churned. I fisted my hands and tried to close everything off, tried to bring back my calm.
I didn’t want to remember the violent anger; the beatings until I was subdued and had no strength left in me to fight. I didn’t want the memories of my distant past out of their box and polluting my head with their lies.
You’re too fat. You’re too ugly. You’ll never amount to anything. You’re worthless. Be grateful you have us. Be grateful we take care of you. Be grateful we love you.
They were wrong. That wasn’t love. That had been sick obsession that killed a man and nearly killed me.
I felt Nicholas’s forehead rest against mine when he drew away from my mouth. His breathing was still uneven, and hard. He turned his head enough to rub his cheek against bare skin. I was somewhere between panting and sobbing and took great deep breaths to regain control.
“Songbird.” His anger appeared drained but I didn’t open my eyes to find out. “I—”
“Please get your clothes and go over to the other dressing room to finish getting ready.” My voice was deceptively calm and steady, but my body shook. I couldn’t control the violent tremors and I didn’t try.
He released my hands, stepped back a pace but I still felt the heat from his body. I let my hands fall to my sides but I made no other move. I felt his fingers wipe the wet streak on my cheek.
“Songbird…” Something churned in his voice that I didn’t have the strength or courage to examine at the moment.
“W
alker, I’m asking you to give me some time. Please.” My voice cracked but I still didn’t move. I couldn’t move yet. Fear had broken my legs.
He wiped the tears on my other cheek but didn’t say anything. I heard him move around and then the quiet click of the door.
When I opened my eyes, I confirmed I was alone. I raced on wobbly legs over to the bathroom and stumbled against the porcelain basin as my stomach lost its contents. My body racked with shakes and I couldn’t rise from the floor when I finished. I curled up and waited for it to pass.
He hadn’t physically hurt me. I knew he wouldn’t. Nicholas wouldn’t hurt me. I made sure that thought, that idea was solid and undoubtable. Nicholas would never physically hurt me.
I wasn’t scared of his fists. I had a feeling the kiss had been an extension of his fist in a way, but it still hadn’t been a physical strike. There was more than one way to lash out at someone, after all.
The problem was the very real pressure of his tense and angry body. The very real edges of the violence in him had triggered memories I had never wanted to revisit. If those hadn’t triggered, if the fear hadn’t nearly eaten me alive, being kissed by him even in temper wouldn’t have been so bad.
Maybe if I had even an ounce of vanity, or higher self-esteem then I might have anticipated this reaction and could have protected against it. But… Men didn’t attack the fat chick or the ugly one or the pathetic, shy, introverted loser. I was supposed to be safe.
“Miss Sheridan?” Henry’s voice called out and I heard the door open. “Jesus Almighty.” Fast steps crossed the room to where I lay with eyes closed and curled up on the bathroom floor.
Songbird Page 8
