by Jayne Frost
An awkward silence fell over the table, but to Mandy’s credit, the dust barely settled before she moved on without acknowledging Cameron’s decree.
As she flipped through her notebook, her fake smile landed on Christian. “I don’t have any information here about a girlfriend or significant other, Chris. Does that mean you’d be open to a link with one of our hot properties from another division?”
The bitch was zero for two in the name department, but at least she wasn’t referring to us as one of her “properties.” Yet.
“It’s Christian,” my bandmate said dryly. “And just to clarify, are you running a dating service, or setting up our tour? There are enough bogus stories out there; I don’t need you fueling the fire.”
Mandy relaxed, clearly in her element now. “That’s the point, Christian. It doesn’t matter who you’re seeing. It matters who you see in public.”
Regarding her with no humor whatsoever, Christian replied flatly, “That would be my girlfriend, Melody.”
Mandy’s angular jaw ticked as she tried to keep her smile in place. “As you’re probably aware, it’s better for your image if you’re single. So if you wouldn’t be opposed to a couple of outings, that’d be super.”
Christian maintained his composure. Outwardly. But I knew him. His bobbing leg told me his patience was wearing thin.
“Actually, I would,” he said. “And more importantly, Melody would. So I’m going to have to decline your super offer.”
Another round of silence ensued as Mandy glared at Christian.
“Don’t worry, Mandy,” Logan piped up, drawing her fierce gaze. “If you wanna give ’em something to talk about, I’m free after dinner.”
Laughter broke out from the Conner contingent, snapping the tension like a twig.
Mandy smiled the first genuine smile of the evening. “Even if I wanted to take you up on that, Logan, Benny frowns on fraternization in the workplace.”
Ignoring everyone, including Benny, Logan smiled slyly. “I’m not planning on taking you back to your office, darlin’. Unless that’s your thing.”
A pink flush dusted Mandy’s hollow cheeks. “I’ll keep that in mind for future reference. But right now . . .” She pulled a glossy rag from the stack in her hand. “I’ve got to congratulate Sean on his front-page story.”
I blinked in confusion as she held up the Star Magazine.
“Your appearance on the red carpet provided the opportunity for some free publicity,” Mandy said. “Good publicity. You even managed to get Conner mentioned in the piece. That makes my job a hell of a lot easier.” Her second genuine smile of the evening was reserved for me. “Well done, Sean.”
Blocking out the light smattering of applause, I gazed in horror at the photo of Kimber and me splashed across the cover.
Pleased with herself, Mandy opened the tabloid and began to read the story. “‘Sean Hudson, handsome drummer for the Grammy-nominated band Caged, made his first public appearance in months at an impromptu event at Benny Conner’s mansion. On his arm was rumored love interest, Kimber Tyson, with whom the musician has a long romantic history. The two were seen leaving the party shortly after Caged performed. Sources at the Chateau Marmont confirm Ms. Tyson spent the night in Mr. Hudson’s suite.’”
Wrapping up her commentary, Mandy tossed the magazine on the table. “Now that’s what we’re looking for.” She beamed. “Kimber is under contract with the Starline Network. And since Conner Productions has a large stake in Starline, orchestrating the appearance was mutually beneficial.” Her smile turned self-satisfied. “Promos started running on the network this morning.”
“P-promos?” That was all I could manage since my lungs felt like someone had sucked the air out with an industrial strength vacuum. “What promos?”
Mandy offered a patient, albeit annoyed, smile as she passed her iPad to her assistant. “Kimber has graciously agreed to weave your future encounters into her story line on Beach Babes.”
Time slowed to a crawl as Mandy’s girl Friday set the iPad on the table in front of me.
When she pressed play, a video of Kimber and me standing next to the limo filled the screen. Our faces were in shadow, but I could see Kimber’s hand on my chest plain as day.
“I’m going back to the hotel.” My voice bled through the speaker.
“I like where you’re going with that,” Kimber replied. “Let’s get out of here.”
My head snapped up as the announcer urged the viewers to “tune in next week.”
“That’s not . . . it didn’t happen like that,” I stammered.
“That’s the beauty of editing. It makes the impossible possible,” Mandy said, and then all business, she consulted her notes. “We’ve put Kimber up at the Chateau Marmont for the night. If you could make yourself available in the restaurant for breakfast at say, ten o’clock, I’ll have a couple of photographers on hand.”
Christian’s fingers coiled around my forearm when my ass rose from the chair.
“I’m not with Kimber,” I growled, glancing at Logan, who was staring into his glass of champagne. “Logan brought her to the event. I didn’t—”
“A love triangle?” Mandy interrupted. Almost giddy at the prospect, she looked over at Benny and said, “That could work.”
Shaking his head, Benny countered, “Too messy. We need the boys to present a united front. We don’t want any rumors affecting ticket sales.”
“Didn’t you hear me?” I barked, slamming my hands on the table. Benny and Mandy abandoned their strategy session, jerking their heads in my direction. “I’m not with Kimber!”
Mandy gave me a patronizing smile, a technique she must’ve picked up from her boss since Benny wore an identical expression.
“That doesn’t matter,” she said, her tone icy and efficient. “The story will garner us a ton of free press as we launch the tour. If you’re not happy with the way it plays out, we can easily arrange to unwind the romance aspect after Kimber makes a couple of appearances on the road.”
As I glanced down at the iPad with my image frozen on the screen, my insides turned outside. “I want this out of the press now,” I demanded. “Print a fucking retraction. Do what you gotta do. I have a…” My mouth went dry as I tried to conjure up a word to describe Anna. “I’m in a serious relationship with the mother of my child.”
Mandy’s brow furrowed as she stared at her notes. “I don’t see anything in your bio about a girlfriend or a child.” She heaved a sigh. “It doesn’t matter; the story hit the newsstands this morning and traffic is up on the Caged website by three hundred percent. We’re going to run with it.”
Not even Christian’s iron grip could hold me in place. The chair hit the ground as I shoved to my feet.
“Listen, lady, if you’re interested in having me sign up for this tour, you’ll get this shit out of the press and stay the hell out of my business.”
The table erupted in chatter as I snatched my duffel from under the table. Shouldering my backpack, I avoided eye contact with the peanut gallery full of spectators as I stomped toward the exit.
When I pushed through the doors, a dozen reporters greeted me, hurling questions about Kimber’s whereabouts.
“No comment,” I bit out, fighting my way to the cab stand.
A firm hand gripped my shoulder as I yanked the door open to the taxi. Logan backed up a foot when I spun around, fists balled at my sides.
“Don’t leave,” he said calmly. “Let’s go back inside and get this shit straightened out.”
“The shit you started?” The question ripped from my chest in a roar. “I came out here to make things right and get on the same page. But I don’t think that’s possible.” I slid onto the seat. “And I wouldn’t be sending Annabelle any more emails. I doubt whether she’ll answer.”
Slamming the door with enough force to shake the chassis, I turned my stone-cold gaze to the driver.
“Where to?” he asked, setting the meter.
�
�LAX.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Anna
Exhaustion weighed me down as I poured my first cup of coffee. I was behind at work, so I’d stayed up half the night to meet a deadline. Sean wanted me to quit, but that was out of the question. For now, at least.
“If you’re tired, Miss Anna, I’ll watch the little bug for you,” Lola said with a smile. “It’s no trouble.”
Though I rarely trusted anyone with Willow, Sean’s housekeeper was the exception. Lola was kind in a no-nonsense way, and she adored my child.
Smiling, I took a sip of the caffeinated glory. “I might doze on the couch. If you wouldn’t mind checking on Willow in a little while, I’d appreciate it. I might be passed out.”
“Do you know when Mr. Sean is getting back?”
I felt the heat rise in my cheeks, but I wasn’t sure why.
Lola’s chuckled. “I take it things are going well with you two?”
I bit back a smile. “We’ve known each other a long time. We were high school sweethearts.” I shrugged, sheepishly. “Anyway, Sean should be back in a few days. But he’ll probably be leaving for a long tour shortly after that.”
Fighting the frown tugging my lips, I banished any notion that I’d made a mistake staying here, letting Sean back in.
We’re going to make it.
It was the first time I’d felt it with such certainty. And even after our fight, I believed it to be true. Because Sean was fighting for us.
Lola patted my arm. “He loves you. I can see it.” Her gaze followed mine to Willow. “And that little girl? She hangs the moon for him.”
My heart swelled, and I nodded. “I better get some work done. Or try, at least.”
I grabbed my laptop on the way to the couch and then, settling into my favorite corner, I pulled up a deposition, and soon I was lost in all the legal mumbo-jumbo.
“Sen!”
Expecting to find him standing in the doorway, I whipped my head around when Willow squealed Sean’s name.
But no.
No. No. No.
Bile crawled from the depths of my stomach when I saw Sean’s image on the television screen, Kimber Tyson’s hand molded to his chest.
“Ma! Sen!” Willow jumped up and down, pointing at her daddy.
Stumbling to my feet to grab the remote, I plopped onto the coffee table to rewind the footage. My vision clouded, and I couldn’t breathe as Sean’s voice filled the room in surround sound.
I don’t know how long I sat there, rewinding the scene over and over.
Willow finally settled down, taking a seat on the floor with her thumb in her mouth, like she could sense something was wrong.
Vaguely, I heard a knock at the front door, followed by footsteps on the travertine.
Too late, I wiped the tears dripping from my chin. Peyton was already in front of me, wrestling the remote from my hand, cursing under her breath.
Pity swam in her eyes when she looked down at me.
She knew.
Everyone knew.
“I’ve got to c-call Sean,” I stammered, but Peyton’s firm grip on my shoulder held me in place.
“Not yet.”
Anger flared, and I knocked her arm away. “You don’t understand.”
I didn’t understand. But Sean would explain. He had to explain.
Peyton shook her head, digging something out of her purse. “No, sweetie, you don’t understand. Sean’s attorney sent these over this morning.”
Staring at the document she’d shoved into my hand, the words blurred and then came into focus, clear as a bell.
Everything was clear now.
Sean Jacob Hudson vs. Annabelle Dresden Kent
That’s as far as I got before my whole world went dark.
Chapter Forty
Sean
Squinting, I shielded my bloodshot eyes from the ravages of the mid-morning sun as I climbed out of the cab.
The redeye out of LAX included a layover in Dallas, so by the time I trudged up the front steps of my house I was closing in on thirty hours with no sleep.
The whir of the vacuum cleaner added to the white noise as I stepped into the foyer.
“Anna!” I called, dropping my backpack. “Where are you, baby?”
Lola turned off the Dyson as I strolled into the great room.
“Morning, Lola.” I gave her a weary smile, heading for the stairs. “Is Anna awake? She’s not answering her phone.”
“She’s not here.”
Lola gave me a go-to-hell look before returning to her chores.
What the actual fuck?
Surmising Lola didn’t want me to mess up the clean floor, I dropped onto the first step to take off my boots.
“Lola?” I growled over the vacuum, trying to keep my temper in check.
She flipped off the switch but didn’t face me. “Yes?”
“Is there something you need to tell me?”
The pint-sized dictator chewed me out good and proper last week for buying the wrong kind of milk, so it could be anything.
“Miss Anna’s gone.”
Stifling a yawn, I pushed to my feet. “Did she say where she was going?”
I was so damn tired, all I wanted to do was crawl into bed with Anna for a week. And then there was the matter of my career, which I’m pretty sure I’d blown to hell. Strangely, I didn’t know how I felt about that.
Lola leveled stony brown eyes on me, clasping her hands in front of her. “She left this morning after her friend came. She took little Willow with her.”
Confused, I cocked my head. “Which friend?” She pursed her lips when I closed the gap between us. “Lola, which friend?”
I stopped short of where she stood, aware of my height advantage. But Lola didn’t seem to care. If anything, she looked more enraged by my proximity.
“Miss Peyton.”
I tried not to roll my eyes. I’d need to buy that girl a bottle of Tito’s, and then we’d get drunk off our asses and sort through our differences like we did in the old days.
“It’s a good thing she was here,” Lola quipped, her brows drawn together in an angry slash. “Miss Anna was a mess after she saw that commercial with you and that . . . woman. And then when Miss Peyton showed her those papers.”
A sinking feeling hit my gut and kept right on going. “What are you talking about?”
Lola ignored me and turned on her heel, heading for the kitchen like the very sight of me was distasteful.
I followed, but kept my distance, pressing my palms flat on the granite island while she cleaned the countertops on the other side. “Will you please tell me what the hell is going on?” She shot me a look over her shoulder, and I heaved out a sigh. “Just tell me what you’re talking about.”
Lola gestured to the dining room table, not bothering to hide her disdain.
Before the other night, I’d never seen a summons up close. But now, even from a distance, the document was unmistakable. The bold print—the borders inside the pages—even the paper looked different. Stiff and formal.
“I’m going to kill that son-of-a-bitch.” I ripped my sunglasses off the top of my head and smashed them on the counter. “What the hell is he serving her with now?”
Lola folded her arms over her chest. “Which son-of-a-bitch would that be?”
I pulled out my phone, firing off a text to Anna.
“Dean, Anna’s ex.” Sliding a hip onto the barstool, I stared at the screen and waited for a reply.
Lola picked up the crumpled pile of papers. “These came from you.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so.”
The laugh scraping my throat threatened to strangle me when Lola shoved the documents under my nose.
Order to Show Cause
Petitioner: Sean Jacob Hudson
Respondent: Annabelle Dresden Kent
Frantic, I took the papers and began to skim the pages. “Peyton brought these?”
Lola nodded.
“Tell me exa
ctly what happened.” She pressed her lips together defiantly, and I shook the summons. “This is a misunderstanding. I didn’t do this.”
Glancing at the papers again, I noted my attorney’s seal at the bottom.
I did do this.
Lola showed some mercy when I braced my hands on the edge of the island, trying to drag air into my lungs.
“Like I said,” she began, her tone somewhat less harsh. “Miss Anna was very upset. She took her suitcases, and her and the little bug left with Miss Peyton. That’s all I know.”
I met Lola’s eyes, pleading. “Did she say where she was going?”
She shook her head, gathering the debris from my sunglasses. “Miss Peyton seemed intent on taking them to her house, where ever that is.”
I took Lola’s hand, and she stilled. “If Anna calls you, will you tell me?” I swallowed over the dry lump in my throat. “Lola, promise me, please. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
Hell, I didn’t even know what had happened.
Through the fog, I tried to recall the texts that flew and back and forth between Scott and me, but my attorney never said anything about serving Anna.
Because you didn’t ask.
My last message to Scott flashed in my head.
Do whatever you need to do.
“I’ll let you know if she calls,” Lola conceded. “But I won’t tell you where she is if she asks me not to.”
I squeezed Lola’s hand, and to my surprise, she returned the gesture.
“Thank you.” I offered a weak smile before sprinting to the garage.
My Bluetooth engaged as soon as I turned the key. Scott’s secretary answered on the second ring, informing me he wasn’t in the office yet.
“Tell him I’m on my way. I need to talk to him.”
Slamming the car in reverse, I ended the call before she could respond.
Chapter Forty-One
Sean
I stared out the window in the waiting room of Scott Devaroux’s downtown office. Not that I cared about anything going on below, but a few members of his staff had gathered around the receptionist’s desk, eyeing me like they might want to strike up a conversation. And I was in no mood to talk.
