Sasha felt cold all over. Though the original message had rattled her, she’d felt somewhat safe with Thomas. He had security and drivers and a team of people to look out for him. But now she was alone, and a total stranger wanted her dead. How could someone get so wrapped up in someone else’s life—a person they’d never even met—to such an extent that they wanted to harm them?
The more Sasha looked, the more she saw threatening comments from the same user. They popped up on every spin-off article on Chit-Chat, on every YouTube reposting of the original video, even on previous videos of Thomas Lloyd from way before Sasha had even met him. ‘Mrs. Lloyd’ had made her online presence known in the comments section of every single article, picture, and video of Thomas Lloyd on the internet. That meant she was more than just a fan, she was a stalker. Her comments also appeared progressively angrier and more threatening. One said: ‘I’m going to hunt you down and make you suffer.’
Sasha slammed her laptop shut. Her heart was racing. Without the electronic blue glow, she plunged into total darkness.
She lay back on her bed, trembling. She had to remind herself that it was just bravado, that it was probably just some pathetic person feeling powerful behind the protective anonymity of the internet. But what if they did hunt her down? Chris had made it clear that he and Sasha were high school sweethearts. If he blabbed about which high school that was, it wouldn’t take long to narrow down which town Sasha grew up in. That she’d returned to her roots to escape the media circus was inevitable. She might as well have left a trail of breadcrumbs.
Suddenly, Sasha was gripped by anxiety. Had she put her mom in danger by returning to her home? Should she leave just in case? But if she did, where could she go? She’d already written to the landlord of her Chicago apartment, saying she was breaking her lease and moving out. There was nowhere else to go, no one else to whom she could turn. Unless…
Sasha reached for her phone. She flicked it on and the comforting glow of technology lit her bedroom. She scrolled through her list of contacts until she got to the number of Kelly, the editor of Atomic Magazine.
Kelly had tried to milk the whole sex tape scandal. She’d even promoted Sasha after it had leaked, thinking the publicity would be good for the company. It didn’t matter to Kelly that Sasha had run off to a secluded island with Thomas, nor that she had later headed for England. All Kelly needed was her name on the Atomic website, and then she just had to sit back and let the website hits and the ad clicks roll in.
Sasha hadn’t wanted to use her newfound fame before; it had seemed crass to profit from her association with Thomas. However, that was before she was threatened by a crazy, fanatical internet stalker. Things had changed, and that meant Sasha would have to compromise, even if it meant lowering her personal standards.
She hit dial. The phone purred once, then twice, in her ear.
“Well, well, well,” came Kelly’s voice from the other end. She was clearly a little tipsy. Probably half way through a bottle of wine at home with her beloved feline friends, the way she often spent a Friday evening. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you again.”
Kelly had never been one for greetings. Sometimes Sasha wondered whether the woman had ever said ‘hello’ in her life.
“What can I do for you, Miss Sasha Jones?” Kelly added.
There was no beating around the bush. Kelly was a shrewd business woman. She appreciated it when people got straight to the point.
“I need money,” Sasha said, aware of how sheepish her voice sounded. She quickly added, “I’ll work for it.”
There was a pause, followed by a tipsy sounding chuckle. “I don’t doubt for a second that you’d work for it.”
Sasha felt herself lifted by hope. “Then you’ll take me back on?”
There was another pause, filled with the unmistakable sound of Kelly lighting a cigarette.
“I’m not sure you’re what Atomic Magazine is looking for at the moment,” she said in one exhalation, adopting a managerial tone, as though explaining why Sasha had been unsuccessful in an interview.
Sasha baulked. That wasn’t what she was expecting to hear.
“But I thought you wanted the publicity?” she said.
“I wanted the publicity of Thomas Lloyd’s fiancée,” came Kelly’s rebuke. “Not the woman who supposedly blackmailed him.”
Sasha mentally rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Kelly. You know better than most that that’s not true. Thomas and I were legit.”
“It doesn’t matter if it’s true or not,” Kelly said, before Sasha heard the sound of her taking another sharp drag on her cigarette. “It’s what people think. You know, the public, the little people who buy the magazine. Right now, the world thinks you’re scum. There’s no place on my magazine for you, Sasha. I could give you Jason Michael’s number. He’s the editor of Ladzz! Magazine—if you didn’t know.”
At that, the phone went dead.
“Bitch,” Sasha muttered under her breath.
As if she’d stoop as low as to write for a misogynistic piece of trash like Ladzz! It was the sort of magazine that had two female writers out of a staff of thirty, and both of them looked like blow-up sex dolls.
Exasperated, Sasha threw her phone down on the bed. Maybe she was being melodramatic? There was always going to be stupid, obsessive fans out there. ‘Mrs. Lloyd’ wasn’t going to harm her; she was just getting a thrill out of trolling her. She didn’t need to reach the depths of Ladzz! Magazine just yet.
She vowed not to look at any of the vile crap on the internet anymore. Google searching her name was making things worse. She just had to wait it out until the next scandal came along and swept this one under the rug.
Mind made up, she curled up under her duvet and thought about Thomas as she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Twenty Five
In the morning, Sasha made breakfast. It felt good to do normal things again. It felt even better to provide care for her mom, like she had done in the past. She couldn’t help but think it was also what she should have really continued to do—instead of chasing a stupid dream in Chicago.
“Oh, I almost forgot, there was some mail for you this morning,” Julia said, as she munched on a piece of toast.
“For me?” Sasha replied, bemused. She hadn’t received mail at her mother’s address since she’d moved out several years ago.
She went to the table beside the front door and thumbed through the letters. She found the one addressed to her. The envelope was handwritten. She opened it. It simply said: Found you.
Sasha gasped and dropped the letter to the floor. It couldn’t be ‘Mrs. Lloyd’—the online stalker—could it? But if not, who else?
Panic started bubbling through her. Whoever had sent this had meant to freak her out. Whether it was an online stalker or not, it was certainly from an unsavory character.
She couldn’t stay at the house any longer, and she couldn’t leave her mom—not now that she’d seen how much help she needed. Both she and her mom had to go somewhere safe. But with Kelly refusing to help her and Chris transforming into someone she’d never be able to turn to again, that left only one option.
Thomas.
Sasha took out her phone and scrolled down to his name. She stared at it, her thumb hovering over the dial button. However, no matter how much she wanted to, she just couldn’t bring herself to press it. Last night she’d been aroused just by watching grainy footage of Thomas Lloyd making love to her, hearing his sexy British accent again would probably tip her into the realm of orgasm.
Instead, she carefully composed a message:
Thomas, I’m sorry to have to do this to you. I know you don’t want to talk to me, or hear from me, but I really need your help. Someone has been threatening to kill me online and today a letter arrived at my mom’s house. They know where I live. I’m scared. I don’t expect you to talk to me but please don’t turn your back on me. Help. Sasha.
After a moment’s hesitation, she hit send and
the text disappeared into cyberspace. There was no turning back on it now. She went back into the kitchen.
“Anything nice?” her mom said.
“Huh?”
“The mail. Was it anything nice?”
“Oh,” Sasha said. “No. Just junk mail.”
She screwed the letter up and threw it in the trash, then sat herself back down at the table. However, her stomach churned as she tried to finish off her breakfast.
***
The day gave way to evening. Sasha was jumpy, constantly peering out the windows for any sign of a disturbance. But all was quiet in the sleepy suburb.
She hadn’t heard anything back from Thomas and had been ruminating on her text message all day, flitting between frustration at herself and frustration at him. Had she been a fool for contacting him? Days had passed since they’d last spoken, but instead of trying to patch things up with him, or ask for forgiveness, or see how he was, she’d jumped straight in with a damsel in distress moment. But then her thoughts would flip, and she’d remember how the Thomas she’d grown to know was a deeply caring man. He helped the people around him, even when they let him down—Crystal being a prime example. If he could spend thousands of dollars on treatment for his sister—who leaked his secret scars to the world—then surely he wouldn’t abandon Sasha at her time of need. Once she’d reached that conclusion, she’d remind herself how wary Thomas was of being used. The reason he’d been attracted to her in the first place was because she had no idea who he was and had no preconceptions about the things he’d done. An inability to trust people was his biggest flaw. Lying to him had destroyed their bond. He had no reason to care for her anymore.
Sasha tried to dampen her ponderings with stupid television programs. Her mom was a fan of home improvement shows. Sasha, herself, hated them. She’d never had time for TV as a child and still hated it as an adult. She was relieved when her cell phone started ringing. But when she realized it was Thomas who was calling her, her relief turned into anguish.
Sasha sat up straight.
“Is that him?” Julia said with a knowing look.
“Yes. I’ll…”—Sasha stood—“…take it in the bedroom, if that’s okay with you. I need some privacy.”
“Of course. I’ve got my television to keep me company.”
Sasha bolted up the stairs and slammed the door to her bedroom shut. She answered the call.
“Thomas.” Thanks to the jog up to her room, she sounded breathless. That wasn’t going to do much for her whole damsel in distress thing.
There was a long pause before Thomas spoke.
“Hello,” he said simply.
It felt like years had passed since she’d last heard his voice. She hadn’t been sure if she would ever hear it again. The relief that he’d called her was almost overwhelming. It was so comforting; his English accent was like a gentle caress, and she had to hold herself back from blurting out, “I miss you.”
“Have you reported this to the police?” Thomas said.
“Reported what?” Sasha asked.
“The note.”
The note. Of course. She’d almost forgotten. Thomas wasn’t calling her for a chat; this was a pragmatic call. She was a problem that needed solving, nothing more.
“No,” she said, trying to hold back the deflation in her tone.
“Then do.”
“Okay.”
Was that it? Just a clipped conversation and the advice to call the police? Was Thomas really going to just leave her in this mess?
Sasha was about to give him a piece of her mind when Thomas said, “I’ll send one of my team to your mother’s house.”
“I’m sorry, you’ll do what now?”
“Is this a bad line?” Thomas said sarcastically. He spoke again, this time more slowly, pronouncing each word. “I’ll send one of my security guys to your mother’s house. Is that okay?”
Hearing a flash of the old Thomas knocked Sasha for six.
“Y-Yes,” she stammered. “That’s great. I appreciate it. Thank you.”
There was a long silence. Sasha was expecting the English actor to say goodbye or hang up the phone, but he didn’t.
“And how are you, Thomas?” she said.
She could hear him hesitate on the other end of the line.
“I’ve been better,” he said, finally.
Sasha paused, unsure what to say or do next. He was waiting for her to make the move.
“I’m here, for you, you know,” she said. “If you need to talk. I know you don’t feel like you can trust me anymore, but deep down you know I’d never do what Pippa, Alicia, or Crystal did to you. I’d never sell you out.”
There was another pause, so long this time it was excruciatingly uncomfortable.
Then finally, Thomas said, “I know.”
Sasha’s heart started thudding. Did that mean he forgave her? Or that he could forgive her one day?
She was just about to open her mouth to speak when Thomas’s voice sounded out through the earpiece.
“But I need time, Sasha. I can’t just get over something like that.”
“Of course,” she said, almost giddy with relief. “I understand.”
She could hardly believe that there was still a chance for her. Thomas could take all the time he needed in the world if the outcome was that they would be together again.
Emboldened by the revelation, Sasha felt her voice grow stronger.
“Are you still in England?” she asked.
Thomas chuckled. “I am indeed. In fact, I’m at Aunty Mabel’s house.”
Sasha felt a small smile tug at her lips. Afternoon tea and cucumber sandwiches had been on Pippa’s agenda for them while she was in England. Sasha had been scheduled to meet his extended family, but everything had fallen apart before she’d gotten the chance.
“And how is it?” Sasha asked.
She remembered how worried he’d been about seeing his family after the sex tape scandal and Crystal’s return to rehab.
“It would be better with you here.”
Sasha was so taken aback her heart missed a beat. Had he really just said that? It was her turn to leave an excruciatingly long silence.
“Thomas, I—”
“I miss you, Sasha,” he interrupted. “I miss my intern.”
Sasha froze. He’d said the magic word, the name he called her to let her know he wanted sex. Did that mean…could it possibly mean…surely not? He’d just told her he wasn’t ready to get into anything.
“I thought you needed time,” she said.
“Time to trust you again, yes,” he said in his calm, strong manner. “But that’s just what my brain needs. My cock on the other hand...”
Sasha’s insides clenched. She bit her lip, as a ripple of excited anticipation ran through her body. “There’s not much I can do about that,” she replied. “We’re in different countries.”
“And yet we’re speaking together. Oh the marvels of modern technology.”
As it dawned on Sasha that Thomas was proposing they have phone sex, she felt the immediate telltale signs of arousal—the heat between her legs, the wetness in her panties. However, she’d never had phone sex before. Despite the myriad of new and interesting ways Thomas had made love to her, the idea of doing it over the phone was daunting to her.
“Thomas, I—”
“Don’t know what to say?” he interrupted. “I’m sure you’ll think of something, intern.”
That was when she knew what he wanted from her.
“Don’t call me that,” she purred.
Straight away she heard Thomas sigh. “God, I’ve missed fucking you.” From the other end of the line, she heard the sound of his belt buckle unclicking.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” she said.
“If you could see how hard I am for you right now, you wouldn’t be asking that,” Thomas replied.
His words sent spasms of arousal running through her. She remembered his cock, the taste of it in h
er mouth, the sensation of it sliding into her, filling up every part of her. She wished desperately to feel it again, to touch it, to see it, but there was no way. Unless...
Sasha thought of the previous evening, of the way she’d made herself climax watching the video of them together.
“Have you seen the sex tape?” she said.
“No. Why?”
“Put it on.”
She heard Thomas laugh. “You kinky little thing.”
She hurried over to her own computer, her legs already feeling weak beneath her. She went online and found the footage. On the other end of the phone, she could hear Thomas clicking buttons.
“Put on the one in the bedroom,” she said. “I want to see your body.”
She hadn’t seen that one yet, and from her memory, it was the moment she had given Thomas an orgasm as good as he had given her. But she could hear Thomas’s hesitation. That was the video that showed his scarred body, something he had been deeply insecure about before Sasha.
“Can we watch the other one?” he said.
“Thomas, if I don’t get to see your cock, I’m hanging up.”
He laughed again. “You drive a hard bargain, intern.”
“Don’t call me that.”
Sasha clicked play and the video began. Seeing the bedroom in Thomas’s Chicago apartment brought back a whole host of sensations to her—the silk sheets beneath her back, the feel of Thomas’s throbbing, thrusting penis inside of her, the feel of his fingernails digging into the flesh of her ass as he wrenched her body into him, and the glorious moment when they’d reached climax simultaneously and their bodies had pulsated in unison. But more than anything, it reminded her of Thomas’s vulnerability, of the bridge he’d crossed for her that day, of the emotional connection that had been forged between them in that moment.
“Do you remember?” she whispered into the phone.
“I remember,” came Thomas’s breathless reply.
On the video, Sasha was unbuttoning Thomas’s shirt and opening it up, pressing kisses down his scarred flesh as she went. Then she moved her mouth to Thomas’s nipple. His on-screen gasp was matched by one down the phone.
JACE (Lane Brothers Book 3) Page 103
