An Ocean Between (Beachside Sweet Romantic Suspense Book 2)

by Rimmy London

  “Let’s go you two,” Max encouraged, smiling at us from the doorway.

  Stepping out of the house was vastly different than entering it had been. With the strength of someone I loved and trusted still draped across my shoulders, and cheers lifting at the sight of us, it was the whole world that had changed. I smiled cautiously at the cameras, catching a glimpse of each photographer and wondering if they were the same ones who’d been at Givanni’s trial. They were on our side now, but I wasn’t going to trust too deeply in that.

  The flight was a blur, with our pleasant conversation taking up the entirety of it. More cheers met us on arrival in Los Angeles, and hardly ten minutes in a dark sedan had us at a chic modern building. Its long rectangular windows were more fashion than function, but they stood out impressively against the polished black exterior.

  “Miss Lane?” The butter-blonde in front of me was properly refined, with a perfectly fitted angora jacket and a skirt that showed off her never-ending legs. But as she shuffled me away, her eagerness I soon realized was not eagerness, but nerves. I supposed the television network had a tight schedule.

  Givanni nodded at me in the hall before he left with his own entourage, throwing in a wink just to watch me stumble. Only minutes later I was placed in a chair and surrounded. There was no telling how many hands were involved in the project of sanitizing me. My eyes had a cloth draped over them while my face was scrubbed mercilessly. The chair spun as at least four other hands went to work. A faucet sounded, and the warm water running through my hair and down my scalp was pure luxury.

  When finally my eyes were uncovered, I caught a glimpse of two brunettes before cold cream was smoothed over my face and neck that tingled pleasantly.

  When I was all rinsed, the man who’d tied up my hair backed away, looking at me like I was a masterpiece. I hardly felt it with my wet hair wrapped in a cotton towel.

  “Is she ready then?” One of the ladies asked. I saw the anxious glances of the three in front of me as they looked back and forth at each other.

  Surely I’m not going on camera like this.

  But as they left and a lanky man entered the room it made sense. They were only prepping me—now I was ready for whatever this man had in store. And from the look of his tight leather pants and colorful yet gorgeous hair, it was bound to be something. I only hoped he would rein in the creativity a little.

  “Hello dear, I’m Jonathan. So nice to meet you.” I shook his hand, thanking him and not one bit surprised when he got right to work. But unlike the previous few, he talked endlessly, his calm manner and pleasant stories easing my jitters. When he took off the towel he nearly screamed with joy, joining with me in laughing at himself. “I’m sorry lovely, but for someone so petite you certainly have been given generous lengths of hair.” He leaned closer with his eyes jokingly large. “Run away with me please.”

  I laughed, sure my face was a little red. But as his hands went to work he fell into autopilot—still talking but more generic, as if his narrative had been recited before. The pull of a comb through my hair had my eyes closing lazily until I heard the snap of scissors. I flinched, looking back at his apologetic face. “Only a trim my dear, I promise.” His head tilted a little in thought. “And perhaps a layer or two?” My mouth twisted but I closed my eyes again, reasoning that I would never be able to afford a hairstylist like him anyway—might as well see what he came up with.

  And just like that, he was finished. “It has been truly a pleasure my tiny diva.” Jonathan sighed. Even with my eyes still closed I could feel a difference, the swing of something silkier than I was used to at my shoulders. Lifting my eyelids, I immediately felt more important, not at all out of place, and decidedly more noticed as few heads turned away at my glance. I trailed one hand through the satin waves. Sleek trails of golden highlight left it looking fresh, new, and beautifully sun-kissed.

  “You’re a genius,” I murmured, still transfixed with the beautiful lady staring back at me. I almost felt guilty for what I was about to do—go on air and deceive the country into accepting this. Jonathan took my hands, and I finally tore my gaze away from the mirror.

  Lifting me from the chair he shook his head at me disapprovingly. “I have done nothing but polish the diamond before me.” He leaned forward, staring at me intensely. “To me, you have not changed one bit.”

  “Thank you.” I stood on my toes, and yet he still had to bend down to let me kiss his cheek. “You have incredible talent.” With a brush of his hand, the compliment was waved away, although a smile lingered on his face. As he left, another entered—a young lady with a large basket of products.

  “Hello Miss Lane, I’m sorry but we are in a bit of a rush. I’ll just add a smidge of color and you will be all finished.” She smiled an edgy smile and as it was impossible to hold a conversation and keep my face still, the room fell into silence. Her ‘bit of color’ lasted longer than I’d expected, the makeup artist adding light touches of layer after layer. She paid particular attention to my eyes, and looked very pleased when I was finally allowed to open them. But checking the mirror wasn’t an option. I was rushed to wardrobe by the two brunettes from before.

  “Loriel, if you could choose a few things?” The smaller of the two asked in a quick breath, hovering on her toes and waiting for me to point her in a direction. I scanned the open closet of colors, pointing to anything that stood out and watching both of their heads nod.

  “Beautiful colors on you—here you are,”

  I had been stripped of my robe before I could react, the two expertly maneuvering the tailored material around my face and hair.

  Moments later I was moving—quickly, trying to keep up. The skirt was perfect, and fit me well. It was strange to be in this world where stresses were over color and fabric… and sitting in a chair on time. I laughed out loud at the thought, clearing my throat at their questioning faces and sitting down in my gestured spot. It was a beautifully upholstered chair in cream colored velvet. The two women nodded at me and rushed off, leaving me alone in a staged room surrounded by lights and cameras.

  “Mr. President Sir, if you would follow me…” From behind the décor wall, Manwell entered with a dozen men and women still dabbing his face and perfecting his suit. At the sight of me, he stopped, staring for a moment before a smile flickered across his face.

  “Miss Lane?” He questioned, bowing slightly. “I must say, this becomes you well.”

  I shrugged a little, not caring for his opinion. He waved off the hands still brushing at him and sat across from me, for which I was glad. This forced friendship was going to be difficult.

  Givanni and Max were ushered in before we could start any conversation, looking like models. Givanni in grey and Max in tan, their suits were elegant. I smiled, enjoying the way they each grinned back. Givanni settled in the seat next to me and Max sat on the couch between us and Manwell.

  “I just have to warn you Givanni,” Manwell’s voice was oddly hushed, and while his face was pleasant the words were not. “To watch yourself. You’re playing a dangerous game.” He leaned back in his seat, with the fabricated smile still on his lips.

  “Manwell.” Givanni started. The tone of his voice made cameramen and assistants turn in our direction. Givanni paused. Manwell’s eyebrows lifted, and a slight nod of his head ended the conversation.

  “Well, good evening everyone. I’m Sharla!” A brightly dressed woman flounced her way onto the set, placing a steaming mug of coffee on the table and smiling with a clipboard hugged to her chest. “Mr. President, always a pleasure,” She crooned, leaning in to kiss him on each cheek. They were obviously acquainted. I shifted in my seat, sure that couldn’t be a good sign. “I know this has been such short notice, and I certainly appreciate your willingness to speak with us!”

  Her fake enthusiasm had me cringing. But there was no time for objections now, and as the cameraman counted down I held my breath. Music chimed briefly, followed by Sharla’s perky introduction. I smiled a
s the camera angled in my direction. It took a moment to focus on the conversation that began with Manwell, of course, starting the show. He gave a brief description of events, which I tried to commit to memory.

  “Truly fascinating Mr. President!” Sharla gasped, for once facing the other side of the room. “And you two were able to disarm this entire illegal camp?” A hand rested at her throat, “What a feat that must have been. And to do it so successfully!” Max smiled a little, leaning forward as if to speak.“And Givanni,” Sharla breathed. “To endure being captured,” She shook her head and I watched Givanni stiffen, showing he had told her nothing of that. “I can only imagine the lasting effects this could have on a person. So courageous.” She batted her fake eyelashes and I swallowed, keeping the smile on my face—but just barely. “If it hadn’t been for our little unlikely hero, I believe things would have ended quite differently.” Her beady brown eyes finally turned to me, “Little Miss Loriel.” She chimed. “What surprise these two well-built men must have felt when rescued by such a sweet young thing.”

  Irritated at her flowery insults, I made a decision that very moment to play along. I kicked one leg over the other with a flick. “No ma’am, they were fine without me.” She looked a little off balance, losing her momentum. I grinned at Givanni and Max. “There’s no doubt in my mind that they would have found a way out on their own, and as much as I admire their success—I wasn’t about to be left out.” There. Take that. No more victims in her sappy scenario.

  She lifted her round chin a touch, taking a few seconds to flip through the pages in her notebook.

  “I see,” She mumbled, selecting a page and pinning it to the top. “It was successful; I will agree with you there. But not without cost. We have two names that have come in—associates of your group who weren’t so fortunate.”

  Enrica and Jordyn came to my mind so quickly it was hard to keep my breath even. Had something happened to them? “Cal Faven, and Jeremy Heath.” She read. “Both dedicated members of your team, and both fatalities of these recent events.” She was speaking into her own private camera now, the look on her face saintly. The facts were all wrong, but then so was the story, and so was her interview.

  I had imagined more of a session of questions, where we would be doing the talking. Instead, it was a ridiculous show, and as she lamented on I let my gaze wander to those in the background—to the darkness behind the curtain and the eyes staring back at me. Maybe I’d been wrong earlier—they definitely looked to be in danger. Every face was tense, with even my glancing at them causing more than a few to shake their heads. Apparently, I wasn’t allowed to know they existed. I scanned back, catching one person behind the rest, and regretting it. Allen Conner. Of all the people in all the places in the world—of course, he would be here... Goosebumps broke out like a rash along my arm as I held his gaze. But his face, unlike the rest, was calm. He eyed me with interest.

  “How did you react Miss Lane?” I snapped my head back, my heart still drumming. The ever-controlled Sharla appeared concerned until the camera panned to me, and then she let utter satisfaction and arrogance fill her face. My discomfort was no doubt thrilling for her.

  “I’m sorry,” I started, sure my voice was shaking, but I was determined to win this battle of illusion, especially now that Conner was involved. “It’s just that I wasn’t aware that Cal… that he…” I let my body posture do the rest, bringing one hand to my face and letting my hair fall forward. “It’s just a lot to take in.” Although I was acting, nothing I said was a lie. And more than that, the cameras seemed to come to life at the emotional display before them.

  “Oh, my dear, I apologize.” Sharla soothed. “I assumed you knew. I would never intentionally surprise you with information like this, but as he was found in Mr. Alarrno’s home only hours after your departure I should have guessed news of that kind wouldn’t have reached you yet. I’m so sorry.”

  I nodded sweetly through her explanation, shock still coursing through me. Suddenly my head lifted—the non-existent tears were forgotten. In Givanni’s home? The Italian Mafia was there? I thought back to that day, realizing they must have shot Cal minutes after he’d threatened me. That was the gunshot I’d heard. Sure, he joined them thoughtlessly, but all he’d wanted from me was a way out. It was too perfectly concealed. They needed to be exposed, and this was the perfect chance to do it.

  “Who killed him?” My bold voice was accompanied with a more severe expression than I would have liked to show on camera, but it came anyway.

  “Loriel, please, this is not the place.” Maxium had one hand lifted, cautioning me.

  Givanni nodded his agreement, looking a little confused by my act. “El, they don’t know I’m sure,” He spoke low, throwing glances at Sharla. “It’s not what we’re here for anyway.”

  “Well, I know,” I said carefully, the words strong. For a moment I thought she would ignore me, but in the charged silence that followed, every face was on me. She had no choice but to acknowledge it. I looked back to Conner, but he was gone.

  “It was the Italian Mafia…”

  “That’s enough Miss Lane.” Manwell finally piped up, sounding very presidential. “I’m sorry Sharla but this interview is over. We haven’t had the time we need to recover and adjust.”

  Sharla sneered at Manwell, leaning back in her chair in a most unladylike way and crossing her legs in irritation. “There’s no need for that Manwell, we already cut to commercial after Loriels little sob session.”

  I glanced back at the cameras, their dark lenses showing she was right. It was probably for the best, as I was just getting started. The fire that swelled inside of me was a little out of control. I shook my head, realizing that Manwell for once was right—we needed time.

  Sharla openly abhorred us now, looking at each of us as if we weren’t fit to be in the same room—all except for Manwell. He still received her kisses in farewell, and she held onto him a little closer this time. She was showing her true colors now.

  Manwell abandoned us as quickly as he could, leaving with an army of security. Just like that, we were alone, on set surrounded by dead cameras. I ran a finger across my sculpted eyebrows, massaging the image of Conner away. How could he just stroll in like he owned the place? And Jeremy. It had been difficult hearing his full name—I’d only known him as Jeremy. Friendly, helpful Jeremy. Cal, too, had been a shock. Even if he’d brought it on himself, no one deserved murder.

  Givanni stood in front of me, gazing into my eyes like he was reading my mind. No doubt my act had been utterly confusing. As I prepared to explain he stopped me, brushing my silky hair aside and bringing his arms around me. I rested my plagued head on his chest, and for a moment everything was blank. The harshness of reality smothered over like frost in the sun.

  A shuffle in the background had my eyes fluttering open, only to catch sight of a professional looking person with a camera.

  Click.

  “Hey,” I started, jumping back from heaven. “What are you doing?”

  The man shook his head and looked back at me with anger on his face. “Saving your life.” He mumbled, before vanishing into deeper corners of the building.

  Givanni rubbed my back. “Don’t worry about it Loriel. Just some amateur wanna-be paparazzi.”

  I looked back at Givanni, taking in the details of his face before glancing at Max. It was strange to not be pushed, dragged, or persuaded in any direction.

  “Well,” I sighed. “What do we do now?”

  They looked at each other, Max with a shrug and Givanni with a smile. He took a moment to hold his hand around mine.

  “We come back to life.”

  Chapter 24

  “Not quite the life I remember.”

  I had to yell into Givanni’s ear—it was the only way to be heard among the shouting. The crowd that filled the sidewalks around us had spilled into the street, stopping traffic. It was not easily navigated. I hugged the grey leather jacket, only just wondering if I shou
ld have returned it to the studio. Manwell, no doubt, had left through another exit, whereas we were completely unprepared. We only made it to the bottom step before stopping awkwardly. Attempting to smile at all the enthusiasm around us, the energetic crowd was impossible to travel through.

  “Loriel! Loriel!” A beautiful woman with perfect auburn hair was smiling ear to ear, her bright blue eyes catching mine. “What are your thoughts right now?” She shoved a microphone closer, and I thought as it hovered in front of me.

  “Well… I’m incredibly thankful to be here.” I glanced at Givanni, not able to stop the overwhelming happiness I felt from spreading a smile across my face. “I’m thankful that we’re all here.” A few squeals of delight sounded out among the chatter, and cameras popped like fireworks. Givanni grinned back, taking my hand.

  “Did you think you would make it back?” A dark-haired man pushed his mic at us.

  Max stepped forward. “Honestly, it was a miracle that we made it out.” His eyes met mine and Givannis. “But we would never abandon each other.”

  Cheers rang out at that and we all laughed. A police car chirped its sirens, rolling slowly down the street and ushering the crowd back onto the sidewalk. It came to rest in front of us.“Hey, you three are causing quite a stir.” The officer leaned over to smile for another flashing camera. “Jump in. I’ll give you a ride.”

  We exhaled in unison, thanking him repeatedly as we climbed in the back seat. “It’s my pleasure.” He switched the heat on. “Warm back there?” The uncustomary fog chilled to the bone. I trailed my hand along the new jacket, sure they would have mentioned if I needed to return it. “I find myself rescuing unsuspecting celebrities more than you would believe.” He continued, talking and driving even though we hadn’t given him a destination. “Those are the ones who need it. If you know you’re famous, you hire guards and security, what in a city like this one.” He glanced back to wink at us. “Or you simply take the back door.”