by Selena Kitt
“Get a damn room, would you two? Jeez, we’re not even in the door and ya’ll are already making out.”
I know this voice immediately. My lips still locked with Tristan’s, I turn him so that I can see over his shoulder. I open my eyes and wink at Beau. A huge smile spreads across my face, bringing an end to the kiss.
Tristan growls.
“And you wonder why I call you Bear,” I tease him.
He growls playfully again and I release him.
No sooner are my arms free than I’m engulfed in hugs from Beau, Jolene, and Naomi.
“Gah! I missed you guys!”
“Apparently I wasn’t much of a distraction,” I hear him huff.
“You are the best distraction,” I say to him from within the circle of bodies.
Finally the girls release me and Mick wraps his arm around me.
“Tristan Michaels, meet the one and only Mitchell Bast,” I say.
Beau laughs. Mick hates to be called Mitchell. He tightens his arm around me, a playful, unspoken threat to squeeze until it hurts.
“Fine, fine. Whatever, Mick. Mick Bast.”
Tristan laughs and extends his arm. Thank God Mick has to let me go to shake his hand. I squirm out of his grasp and take in the sight of my three best friends.
Naomi is still short, sassy, and extremely sexy, but she now has a big streak of purple in her platinum blond hair.
“Purple, huh?” I ask. Naomi nods. “I like it.”
Just then, Travis – though I’ve never met him, I wasn’t born yesterday – comes over and wraps his arm around Naomi’s shoulder, and she blushes bright red. Evidently they’ve already become acquainted.
I extend my hand to him. “Pleasure to meet you, Travis.”
Tristan laughs and I look in his direction.
“Pleasure to meet you, Travis,” he repeats, mocking my English accent.
“Har-har!” I glare at him. “Hi, sista!” I say to Jolene, who has also changed her hair. “How are you?”
“I’m great. You look amazing! Getting some sun I see.”
Tristan snorts and Jolene laughs. After a week in the sun I’m still pale as a ghost.
“Very funny, you two. You dyed your hair red. What on earth for?” I giggle.
She shrugs. “Something different. I wanted to try being a redhead.”
“Well that puts a damper on my plans,” I say teasingly.
“If you’re referring to the sexy man over there in the corner staring at me,” – I look over my shoulder and sure enough, Tyson is all but drooling at the sight of Jolene; my insides start bouncing with glee – “then I don’t think you have much to worry about.” I laugh, she’s probably right.
“Hi, sexy!” I say to Beau.
“Hi yourself!”
Tristan laughs. “Now I know where you got it from.”
Beau laughs too. “No, I stole it from her.”
I introduce my friends to Tristan, Sasha, Leroy, and Mike, and then we split up so the new arrivals can get settled in their rooms.
The phone rings. Mike is quick to grab it. “Dinner is coming up,” he says. Perfect timing.
After an amazing dinner, we are all sitting around the table on the patio. Jessie is on top of everyone’s drinks and we all seem to be getting along well. Everyone is talking, laughing, and having a good time. Travis is a riot of jokes and laughter. He about had me spewing Cosmos all over the table. Tyson and Jolene are talking quietly, and something tells me that Travis and Naomi will be sharing a room this entire trip. I’m in complete awe of the fact that neither Travis’s or Tristan’s celebrity has had any bearing on the conversation. I’m relieved that no one’s mentioned Hollywood or the stories that broke this week.
Suddenly Tyson is interrupting us with this horrified look on his face. I hadn’t even realized he’d gotten up to answer the phone until now.
“What’s doing, Ty?” I ask. Tyson’s expression lightens a bit as he looks from Tristan to me and back again.
“Someone is requesting access to the penthouse via the elevator on the seventh floor,” he says. I can tell he’s fighting to keep his voice calm.
“Who is it?” I ask, but the phone starts ringing again. Tyson looks from me to Tristan and then turns on his heel and strides quickly into the sitting room. I see him square his shoulders and stand just a little bit taller as he shifts from relaxation mode to business mode.
I call after him, “Ty, just let Leroy handle it and come back to the party.” He stops mid stride and I watch as his shoulders visibly relax.
Leroy picks up the phone.
Tyson has turned around and is now looking intently at Tristan. “I’m not sure letting her up here is such a good idea. We don’t know what her intentions are.”
My heart sinks into my stomach and I feel Tristan stiffen, tension instantly rolling off of him in waves.
“I’m sorry, she’s mistaken. There’s no Mr. Jackson in this suite.”
Travis! I scream in my head.
I stand up and make a beeline for the sitting room. I reach Leroy and put my hand on his shoulder. He jumps a little.
“Let her up,” I whisper in his free ear.
He raises his eyebrows at me and mouths, “Ma’am?”
“It’s all right. She’s just going to keep trying if we don’t let her up. Let her up. I’ll handle this.”
“Ms. Enders says let her up,” Leroy says into the phone.
I sidestep Leroy and begin making may way toward the foyer. Sasha steps into the hallway ahead of me. “She does not come past the foyer,” I say to Sasha. “Keep her at the elevator.” I’m thrown off internally by the authority in my voice. Now that Tristan’s pointed it out to me in reference to dealing with Trinity and Vincent, I’m beginning to recognize it.
I feel something grab my elbow. Tristan pulls me around to face him. “What are you doing?” He’s pissed.
“Getting rid of Layla before she causes a scene bigger than we have the ability to handle.” His eyes are cold, angry, and distant. In response, I get calm. “Tristan, if I don’t squash her now, she’ll be bugging us all night long. I want to enjoy my evening. Please, let me handle her.”
“Oh no you don’t, Cami. I will handle her.”
I vigorously shake my head at him. “Like hell you will, Tristan. She has no clue that you’re here. She thinks that Travis is here and might know where you are. She’s fishing for information, so let me handle this. She doesn’t know me from Eve. Sasha is here. Mike can come with me or stand by if necessary.” My words are finally starting to register and his gaze softens.
“All right,” he says. “I trust you.”
The words coming from his mouth have me shaky and turning to jelly.
He leans in and kisses me. When our lips meet, my hands immediately force their way into his hair and I pull him hard and tight against my body, kissing him back with ferocious intensity.
Someone clears his throat behind me. “She’s here.” It’s Mike.
I peel myself away from Tristan and look him square in the eye. “I’ve got this, baby. Please.” He nods.
I turn around and Mike is between me and the hallway. As I walk around him I whisper, “Stay close.” I get closer to the door and I can hear two women in a slightly heated confrontation. One voice I easily recognize as Sasha’s. The other, I know, has to be Layla.
Chapter Thirty-Five
When I open the door, the bickering immediately stops. One word rings out, “Travis,” and it comes from Layla.
“Who’s Travis?” I ask, looking directly at her.
She looks exactly the same as in the photos from my Internet search on Tristan, only in the flesh. Her chestnut-colored hair is curled slightly. Her dark brown eyes look almost black in the light of the foyer. She’s standing near the elevator, seeming a bit flustered.
“Travis is a friend of mine. I know he’s in your suite.” The words are confident, but her voice comes out hesitant.
I purse my lips at h
er in annoyance. “What makes you think that your friend Travis is in my suite?”
“Um. Because I saw him come down here from the roof.”
She has to be joking. I tilt my head sideways, staring at her in disbelief. There is no way she could have seen Travis on the roof from anywhere but on the roof.
“Well, I don’t know. You may have seen your friend, but let me assure you, he is not in my suite,” I state firmly.
As she opens her mouth to speak, loud laughter erupts from the suite. Obviously everyone has come back inside.
“Now if you will excuse me, I have a suite full of people and a party going on.”
“Oh? My friends and I love a good party. Can we join you?”
I cringe internally at her desperation, and then again at the idea of having her in my suite.
“You know,” I say, adopting a confiding tone. “It’s a bit like having Ellora’s Cavemen in there. Hot, steamy, and some seriously sexy fun.” I pause for effect, and her face lights up. The odds of her knowing who Ellora’s Cavemen are stand at pretty slim, so it’s the idea of men that captures her attention. “I’m pretty sure that I don’t want to share that with you or your friends,” I say, and watch with satisfaction as her face falls.
I let my amusement show on my face as she racks her brain for another way to get me to invite her in. Nothing like inviting your unwanted self to a party.
“We can bring our own booze,” she tries.
“That’s good, because I’m positive that we’re keeping the best bartender in this hotel busy up here. So you can keep your booze downstairs because you’re not invited to join us.”
Suddenly her expression goes from tentatively friendly to positively pissed. “Do you know who I am?”
Ah, here comes the snarky bitch. “What does who you are have to do with anything?”
Out of the corner of my eye I see Sasha perk up just a bit as I get snippy with Layla.
“Everything! It would be to your benefit to have me at your party. I’m just trying to do you a favor. When you have friends like me, you can go places, become someone.”
I can’t help but bust out laughing. A deep, no-holds-barred laugh that is going to cause tears. Layla turns fifteen shades of red. This of course spurs me on, and what keeps me laughing is that she doesn’t head for the elevator. This woman has no dignity. I finally start to calm a bit and became capable of semi-coherent speech.
“Hey, Sasha, did you hear that?” She nods and I look back at Layla. “Layla Brooke is offering to be my friend.” I chuckle a bit longer, then step up to Layla. With me in my heels and her in flip-flops, we are eye to eye.
“First of all, Layla, do not believe for one second that just because I’m on a private island in the middle of the Pacific I’m unaware of your little story yesterday. I would think twice about threatening or promising me something you can’t deliver, little girl. Your pants are not big enough to play in my world.” I point my finger at her chest and Sasha stiffens, on high alert. I hear the door open behind me – oh shit, not Tristan – but I don’t look around. I stay focused on Layla. “Your career hangs by a precious little thread, and believe me when I tell you that I am your puppeteer.”
I watch as Layla steels herself and takes a half step forward. Sasha isn’t having that; she moves in our direction. I put my hand up to tell her to stay put. I can tell by Layla’s body language that we’re not going to get physical.
I hear a couple of heavy footsteps behind me and Mike comes into my peripheral vision. Layla’s eyes go wide as she realizes that there are not one but two bodyguards in the room.
“Who are you?” she asks, surprise evident in her voice.
“Someone you should learn to play nice with because fucking with me will only damage what little chance you have left in Hollywood.” I pull in a long breath. “Your little stunt yesterday with the fire is a true credit to the type of person you really are.” I pause for a second, but she doesn’t deny it. Rage flashes in me again. “Not to mention the fact that the alcohol on your breath tells me that you have no respect for yourself or for the unborn child you’re carrying. Unless you were lying to smooth things out with Tristan.”
She retreats a couple of steps.
“What were you expecting, Layla, that he would fall to his knees with open arms for you?” I look over at Sasha, whose mouth is slack with surprise at my speech.
Layla has turned white as a ghost. “He’s here. I knew it!” she exclaims. Of all the things to pull from what I’m yelling at her about, she decides to jump to the conclusion that Tristan is here.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I snap back.
Her eyes dart from me to Mike to the door and back again. “Tristan. He’s here, isn’t he.”
“Hell no, he’s not here.”
“Then how do you know all of that? About me?” Her voice is mousy and weak.
“Because I am privy to all of my clients’ most personal and private details, whether he wishes to share or not.”
“You’re not his lawyer.”
I laugh. “You’re really dense, aren’t you.” She scowls at me. “Did you see his press release yesterday?” She just nods. “I wrote that press release. Tristan is one of my company’s biggest clients. So yes, Layla, I am fully aware of all your little stunts, and I do have the power to destroy you. So be a good little girl and go back downstairs. You’re not welcome here.” I take a step back and Sasha visibly relaxes.
“I—” She stutters a little. “I never meant to hurt him.” Her voice is still small and weak. “Please,” she says, “if you talk to him, I really need to speak to him.”
My heart lurches at her expression and anger washes over me.
“Don’t hold your breath. I’m pretty sure the two of you have nothing to discuss.” I turn to Mike. “See to it that she leaves my suite and returns to her own.” He nods and I move toward the door to the sitting room.
“I’m not pregnant,” she says behind me, and my rage fires again.
“Bloody hell! What do you mean, you’re not pregnant?” I ask without turning around.
“I—”
“Please do not tell me that you had an abortion, because you will win no points with me,” I say through clenched teeth.
“No. When I told Tristan I was pregnant, I only thought that I was.”
“Oh, now that’s great. You knew that was the one thing that could possibly get Tristan to his knees and you used it against him.” I turn slowly, rage seething in my veins. “That was a low blow, Layla, and you know it.” My voice is strained as I fight for control of my anger. I want so badly to hit her, or at the very least make her cry. “You are an insensitive, selfish bitch. What in the world would possess you to do something like that?”
“I—I don’t know. I was scared. I didn’t want to lose Tristan.”
I shake my head. “No, Layla, you didn’t want to lose your supposed career. But what you really need is help. Professional help. You are not cut out for Hollywood. You’re too caught up in yourself, drinking, and drugs, and that combination will only do one of two things. It will get you kicked out of Hollywood or get you killed.”
She slumps in defeat. No doubt this is the last thing she expected to have happen when she came up here tonight.
I get in her face again, and Mike and Sasha are instantly at my side. Tears are forming in Layla’s eyes. Her pitiful look makes me want to smack her and wake her up to the reality she has created for herself. “Hollywood is no place for little girls,” I rage. “Get your shit together and get out of my suite.”
I turn, and walk toward the door. To no one in particular, I say, “Get her out of my suite.”
Tristan
“Get her out of my suite.”
I can tell from her voice that she’s angry, which matches my own sentiments regarding Layla right now.
She’s not pregnant. God dammit, it really was a ruse to get back at me. She knew that would be the one thing that would make
me crumble to my knees.
“Jesus, she’s manipulative” I mutter to myself.
On the plus side, the news that Layla isn’t pregnant is a huge relief. I’d felt guilty that Layla was facing a pregnancy alone with all her issues. I don’t think that’s something any woman should have to go through alone. And I was worried about the long-term effects of being a single parent on top of her other issues. Any child deserves love and affection, and I’m beginning to believe Layla isn’t capable of providing either.
I’m completely blown away by what Cami’s just said to Layla. I’m not thrilled with the idea that she revealed to her that she knows more about Layla than maybe she should, but at least Layla still doesn’t know who she is. For now. I suppose over the coming days and weeks it will quickly become a well-known fact as to who Cami is, and Layla, if she is paying any attention at all, will quickly put two and two together. Oh to be a fly on the wall when Layla sees the pictures from New York next week. She’ll know I was here, and that will chafe her hide more than anything. Though I wouldn’t say I want revenge on Layla, per se, it would be nice to watch her squirm just a little bit.
I hear the door open and close, and instantly all my angst about Layla washes away like the tide of the ocean. I’m hiding around the corner, and I can’t see her, but I can hear her heels clicking against the hallway tile. As she passes I slip behind her, grab her by the arm, and spin her around. She squeals and smiles as she lands in my arms.
“Hello, beautiful.”
She blushes and a big smile spreads across her face. “Hello beautiful yourself.”
I lean in and lick the bottom of her earlobe, and she lets out a breathy chuckle in my ear. “Behave,” she breathes, but I can’t help but nibble a little at the lobe because I know it will drive her nuts.
“Kiss me,” she says and I happily oblige.
The sensation of our lips touching sends shivers down my spine and straight into the erection I’ve been fighting. Kissing Cami is like nothing I have ever felt before. Each contact, each stroke, each sensual touch is like an electric shock through my entire body, straight into my heart. Each shock stranger than the one before.
