by C. J. Miller
Their view of the city was picturesque. The skyline was lit by the skyscrapers of the city and by the moon.
The sadness disappeared from her eyes. They brightened and her mouth curved into a smile. “Yes, gladly.” She stepped into the circle of his arms and rested her head on his shoulder. “Sometimes, I get the feeling that you’re intentionally keeping distance between us. Like you don’t want to be part of my world.”
He wasn’t part of her world. Marissa fascinated him, but the rest befuddled him. A picture couldn’t capture who Marissa was and therein lay her true beauty.
After his knee was healed, Jack would return to working for the West Company in an international special operations capacity. He would be sent on a mission for weeks or months. He would work completely in secret and try not to be seen or noticed by anyone. He didn’t belong in a world of champagne and thousand-dollar ties and constant pictures. “I feel out of place,” he said.
“You do? Now?” Marissa said.
“Not when we’re alone. When I’m at a photo shoot or a party like tonight, I don’t fit in.”
Marissa’s arms tightened around him. “That’s what you tell yourself. But you do fit.”
“I’m wearing a borrowed suit I wouldn’t pick on my own. I had never heard of three quarters of the actors and actresses who won awards tonight and I didn’t know any of the songs that were performed,” Jack said.
“What about what happened between us?” Marissa asked.
Their relationship worked for him on many levels. “That was pretty special.”
Pointing out they were different seemed like stating the obvious. Yet he was here, in her hotel room, one of the most unlikely men to be dancing with a supermodel.
* * *
Marissa liked Jack sleeping in her bed.
His big body was warm, heating the sheets. She liked leaning into him as she slept. But tonight, even with him close, her thoughts were restless and she had a hard time calming herself down. After getting a glass of water, she watched the rise and fall of Jack’s chest. He was a restless sleeper, too, tossing and turning, sometimes groaning. What was he dreaming about?
He had mentioned his injury. Marissa hadn’t had the opportunity to inspect it closer. She longed to know the story. He had been shot and he was secretive about the circumstances.
Marissa considered waking him, but decided against it. She searched for the words that would convince him to confide in her. The idea of calling Avery for advice shot through her mind and on its heels, the quick stab of grief. She couldn’t talk to Avery. She was gone.
Marissa settled back into the pillows and closed her eyes. She extended her leg over to Jack’s, sliding her calf over his. Spending the night with him was comfortable and easy. With him, she was safe. Nothing bad would happen.
The sound of her mother’s voice hit her.
Marissa sat up, her heart racing and the jolt to her nerves making her hands shake. A glance at the clock told her she had drifted off to sleep. It was nine in the morning. Jack was on his feet in seconds.
“It’s my mother,” she said. What was her mother doing here? How had she gotten inside her hotel room?
Marissa grabbed a hotel robe and slippers from the closet and exited the bedroom. She hadn’t slept enough and she needed water and coffee. “Mom? What are you doing here?”
“Didn’t you see the news? Were you there when it happened?” her mother asked.
A heavy sense of dread fell onto her shoulders. “What happened?”
Lenore straightened. “Are you alone?”
That didn’t matter. The threat of bad news hung over her. “I’m never alone lately.” Marissa’s stomach clenched. The interruption and the five hours of sleep she had gotten made her nervous and edgy. “Tell me quickly. Please.”
“Clarice was killed last night.”
Marissa felt like the air had been sucked from her lungs. Setting her hand over her rib cage, she inhaled a shaky breath. “How?” Clarice had been at Ambrose’s party last night. Kristen had mentioned needing to talk to her, but Marissa hadn’t spoken to her. Assembling the facts into a reasonable explanation was impossible.
“I don’t know the details. I heard it on the news,” Lenore said.
Jack stepped out of the bedroom, phone to his ear.
Her mother frowned in Jack’s direction. “I see your bodyguard is taking his job seriously.”
Marissa wasn’t in the mood for a lecture. Discussing her and Jack’s relationship wasn’t high on her priority list. “Don’t start, Mom.” She had other concerns. Like Clarice’s family and how they were feeling and what they were going through.
Jack slid his phone into his pocket. “I spoke to my employer. The authorities believe Clarice was killed after she left Ambrose’s party at this hotel. Security footage shows her leaving alone. She got into a cab. The police have spoken to the cabdriver, but he claims he dropped her at her apartment. Her phone wasn’t found on her. The police are looking for it.”
It didn’t make sense. Who would want to hurt Clarice? She was hardworking, helpful, in-demand and kind. “How was she found?” Marissa asked. As many times as Marissa had worked with Clarice, she was embarrassed to admit she hadn’t known her well. She could have a family and children or a live-in boyfriend.
“She had planned to meet a friend for breakfast before a shoot this morning. When she didn’t show for either, her friend got worried and went to her apartment, found her and called the police,” Jack said.
Marissa sat on the couch, her legs not feeling strong enough to support her. “I can’t believe this. I need to call her parents. Maybe I can do something to help. Did she have a boyfriend or children?”
“She lived alone,” Jack said. “I don’t have other details.” Jack crossed the room to her and sat beside her.
It was what she needed. Just someone who she knew was on her side to give her a minute.
“Jack, will you excuse us? I need to speak with Marissa alone.”
Emotions swirled inside Marissa, grief, sadness and fear. The robe felt like it was suffocating her. The room was too hot.
Clarice had been on the set the day the Avery had been killed. The connection wasn’t clear, though Marissa kept trying to piece it together.
“I’ll make coffee,” Jack said.
Caffeine would help, but the day would be rough. “Mom, we can talk on the balcony.” She and her mother walked onto the balcony and Lenore closed the door behind them.
The cold air was a relief. Marissa inhaled, enjoying the crispness of the air. They looked out over the city. Usually, a sense of awe and excitement struck her. Today, she felt dirty and sad.
“Marissa, what are you doing with your bodyguard? Before you lie to me, let me remind you that I have eyes. I can see something is going on between you two,” Lenore said.
Marissa didn’t roll her eyes, but she wanted to. “Jack and I have become close.” And her relationship with him didn’t involve her mother.
“He’s a bodyguard.”
“I am aware of his job.”
“Why are you involved with him? Does this have to do with Rob? Because I can speak to your manager and we can brainstorm men you could date. Appropriate men you could date.”
Marissa had explained to her mother before that she didn’t want to be set up on a date. Matching someone on paper didn’t translate to chemistry. The last man her manager had set her up with had been gay. They’d had a good laugh about the ridiculousness of the situation, two adults with successful careers agreeing to a date for the purpose of headlines. “I don’t need to be set up on a date.”
“If you want to stay relevant, you need to keep the public interested in you.” Her mother continued talking about modeling and how more than being pretty, she had to be interesting.
&nb
sp; It was a lecture her mother had given her many times before.
“Are you listening? Jack isn’t famous. Does he have any film credits? Has he ever been part of a fashion campaign? Does he know anyone important? Have any important connections?” her mother asked.
That didn’t matter now. Avery was dead. Clarice was dead. Her mother was fixating on the wrong problem. “He knows Kit,” Marissa said.
Lenore sighed. “Don’t be difficult. Kit has followed her path in life. She’s not someone I understand. She’s in her own world and she rarely confides in me. But you are different. You’re a star.”
Kit had the right idea, keeping her life private. “A friend, someone I respected, died last night. My primary concern isn’t Jack or my relationship status or how many times my name appears in the news.” Marissa felt grief and anger welling inside her. She should excuse herself and get some sleep. She should eat and focus on helping Clarice’s family. Yet, she couldn’t silence herself. “I think it’s terrible that you barged in here, gave me heartbreaking news and judge how I live my life.”
“I am not judging. I am trying to prevent you from making a mistake.”
If her mother was a great judge of character, she was not perfect in that regard. She had been blinded by the man she had married. Despite Marissa’s success in her field and her contributions to their family, Marissa carried the guilt that she owed her mother. Her mother had started her on this path into modeling to help the family and Marissa took those responsibilities to heart. “What makes you think I am so terrible at making decisions?”
“You are better suited for someone else. Come on, Marissa. Look at him. He’s friends with Kit and you know they are probably more alike than not. That’s about as different from you as possible. Before I met him, I hadn’t heard his name.”
Her mother had touched a nerve. “I am jealous of people who have anonymity. Whose names aren’t printed in daily gossip sections.”
“You want to be a nobody?” Lenore asked.
Like her face could either be everywhere or she didn’t exist. She wanted something in between. “I don’t see it that way. I’ve spent the last twenty years on my career. I want a break.”
“You don’t mean that. You’re saying that because of what happened to Avery and Clarice,” Lenore said.
It could be part of it. She couldn’t pretend those friends hadn’t died. “Even before Avery died, I was thinking about leaving the business. I don’t want to be in the spotlight anymore. I did this for our family, but I want to do something else now.”
Lenore set her hands on her hips. “You love modeling and you sound like a spoiled child.”
Marissa didn’t hate what she did. But she had often dreamed of pursuing her artwork, becoming an artist. Going to art shows and hanging out with local artists. “I am glad I took this path, but it came with a price. At times, it was stressful and hard. I never got to be a regular teenager. I missed school to go to interviews. I would workout and eat right even when I’d rather flop on the couch with a tub of butter popcorn.”
“Are you blaming me for your unhappiness?” Lenore asked.
She was so defensive, she wasn’t listening. “I am not blaming anyone for anything. I’m not unhappy. But I’m ready to take the next step and that means putting my career on the back burner.”
“You’ll quit? Walk away and turn your back on your friends?” Lenore asked.
Her mother was ever dramatic. “I am hardly turning my back on my friends. I might work in the industry in a more behind-the-scenes capacity. I helped Ambrose with his last collection and I enjoyed every minute of it.”
“I can’t believe this! There are so many opportunities around the corner. Walk away now and they’ll give those campaigns to another model. Someone younger and who is willing to work more for less.”
Marissa had considered that. “What if they do?”
Her mother recoiled as if Marissa had physically struck her. “You should be grateful.”
“I am.”
“You don’t sound it,” Lenore said.
Marissa wasn’t making any headway with her mother. “My thoughts are a mess. Could we talk about this more later?”
Her mother seemed appalled. “I wouldn’t start the rumors that you’re quitting. Watch the bookings dry up. You’ll lose your sponsorships. Think this through, Marissa. Don’t be impulsive and reckless.” Lenore fled the balcony and left the hotel room without saying anything to Jack. Marissa hated that she couldn’t help her mother to understand her. She had tried in the past, but her mother was incapable of listening and seeing that modeling wasn’t the entirety of who she was.
Marissa looked at Jack through the glass doors. He was working on his computer with a steaming cup of coffee next to him.
Entering the hotel room, she sat beside him and he pointed to the mug. “For you. The way you like it.”
After the conversation with her mother, she needed coffee or something stronger. “Thanks.” She took a sip and felt a little better. “I’m sorry if my mother was rude to you.”
“She’s protective of you. It’s a notion I understand.”
Marissa’s thoughts cleared and emotion bounced around her head. “I’m heartbroken for Clarice’s family.”
“I know you are,” Jack said. “I’ll do everything in my power to find who did this. And I will stay with you until I do. I give you my word.”
Chapter 9
After Clarice’s funeral, Marissa could only think about getting away. Somewhere out of the city, away from her work and her family and her friends. She couldn’t run away for good, but a few days in another place would help. Give her a fresh perspective. Take her away from the hurt and grief. Except she didn’t want to run from Jack. Him she wanted at her side.
As Jack drove toward her house, the car was quiet and only the sounds of car horns and the hum of activity in the city were audible.
She’d pitch the idea. She had nothing to lose. “Let’s go away somewhere.”
“Where?” Jack asked, concern creasing the corners of his eyes.
“An island. A beach. Somewhere no one will recognize me,” Marissa said.
“Your problems will follow you,” Jack said.
“I can hide from them for a few days,” she said.
“You’re scheduled to be in Boston tomorrow,” he said.
She could count on one hand the number of times she had rescheduled a shoot over the course of her career. Given the circumstances, postponing would be understandable. Or, she would miss the deadline, blow the campaign and millions of dollars would be lost. It would create a horrible problem. “Just two days. I want just two days away.”
Marissa sent a message to her agent asking him to call her. Her lawyer would need to be involved, too. When she started thinking of the trouble, it almost made her want to forget the idea.
They arrived home and Jack parked in the garage. “Go inside. I’ll check the perimeter and be in shortly.”
Exhaustion and sadness weighed on her. Glancing at her phone, she still hadn’t heard from her agent. The best message would be one letting her off the hook, giving her two days away.
Marissa opened the door from the garage leading into her home. She disabled the house alarm and flipped on the light in the small hallway leading into the house. Her breath caught in her throat and adrenaline rushed through her.
A tornado had whipped through the interior of her home. Couch cushions were slit open, bookshelves pulled down, vases and pictures frames smashed to the floor. She called to Jack, but her voice came out silent. She cleared her throat and tried again.
“Jack!”
She heard the heavy stomping of his shoes. He was at her side. His hands went to her shoulders.
“I’ll call the police.” His voice firm and solid.
She shouldn’t do anything but she walked forward. She could hear Jack talking on the phone. Her home had been invaded again. This time, they had gotten around the alarm. She couldn’t believe the destruction. Her feet crunched over glass and debris.
In her kitchen, the entire block of knives was empty. She spun, fear gripping her. The knives had been plunged into the wall, the handles sticking out. The action felt violent and angry.
“Marissa, we need to wait outside for the police.” Jack’s voice of reason. He sounded distant.
Marissa spun to face him. “Why? Why are they coming? What are the police going to do? Can they fix this? Can they put everything back?”
She felt her control slipping, fear taking over. The police had been looking for the person who had hurt Avery. The efforts had been fruitless.
“They might find the person who did this.”
Marissa’s temples throbbed. “They can’t. They won’t. But what about you? Your company is investigating, too. Why can’t you tell me what you’ve found? Why all the secrecy? Why can’t I be trusted? Why can’t I know the details of why my life is being torn apart and the people around me dying?”
Jack seemed to be assessing her. “You are trustworthy.”
Marissa threw her hands in the air. “You say that and yet no one wants to tell me anything. I’m kept in a glass house where I’m supposed to smile and look pretty. Does it dawn on anyone that I’m smart, too? Of course not. My head is empty and I’m flighty and a prima donna.” Fear was making her lash out.
“I know you’re smart. I don’t think you’re a prima donna.”
Her anger with him was misplaced, but she had to do something with the churning, ugly emotions. They were too strong, too much and taking her to a dark place. The place where criticisms and negativity shadowed the positives, darkening them into invisibility.
Marissa walked through the house, surveying the damage. This had been her sanctuary. She felt violated and angry and she had no one to lash out at. Bitterness seeped into her, amplified by her grief for Avery and Clarice. “I don’t know who is doing this or why. I’m not hiding drugs here. I don’t keep expensive jewelry here. The items in my jewelry box are costume.” Her safe. She hadn’t accessed it in months and at times, she didn’t think of it. Had the intruder gotten to her safe?
