“You could at least try to look happy,” I whispered.
“Why?”
It took all of my strength for my smile not to slip. “Oh, I don’t know. You’re on camera?”
“So?”
Oh, God help me. I had no idea how I was going to get through the night without making a scene. The man was infuriating on too many levels to count. Like the easy way he wore his suit like a second skin. Or the fact that he could have been a model or actor, with slicked-back dark hair and brooding good looks. He was impeccable in his black-and-white attire and a part of me hated him for it.
A wicked thought occurred to me.
I waited until the cameras were aimed at some of the other celebrities arriving and deliberately pressed the side of my body against his to get his attention.
Marc’s eyes narrowed. He’d been focused on the crowd ever since we’d got there, constantly scanning for threats. Tonight I didn’t feel any more paranoid than usual. If someone wanted to get to me, they’d most likely do it when there weren’t cameras pointed at me and security guards everywhere.
When his gaze settled on me, I tried hard to ignore the way my heartbeat quickened and the unsettling realization that my body pressed against his felt like it fit.
I sweetened my smile. “You could at least try to look happy that you’re my boyfriend then.”
Those dark eyes remained fixed on me, and I had an unnerving feeling that he saw beneath the thick layers of make-up to a part of me I kept carefully hidden.
He cocked an eyebrow. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“Am I getting any?”
My smile did slip this time and it was replaced with a look of horror. Meanwhile, his face split into a wide grin. The realization that I found Marc Romero impossibly attractive with a smile on his face only added to my horror.
“Cat got your tongue, Princess?”
“You’re disgusting,” I hissed. “You should be doing your job, not . . . ” My voice trailed off. Teasing me, I had almost said.
“I am doing my job,” he said, pulling me tighter. “Sweetheart.”
If I’d been breathless at his insouciance, his strength didn’t help matters. How was he so strong? He was tall, but he wasn’t one of those ridiculously buffed, built men I secretly couldn’t stand. Marc’s brand of masculinity was one of elegance and refinement.
“You’re hurting me,” I murmured as we posed for another round of flash photography.
“Sorry,” I thought I heard him say over the constant chatter of the crowd. He loosened his grip and his hand slipped down to rest on my hip, sending a frisson of heat down my leg.
“Lena! Who’s your new man? Anyone special?”
Marc’s eyes were on our audience again, scanning the crowd with that look of casual indifference.
I flashed a winning smile. “This is . . .” Oh no. We hadn’t discussed this. On-set he was known as Nathan, but who was he supposed to be tonight? Plus, I had no idea what Nathan’s surname was, or if he even had one. Marc didn’t spare me a glance, probably enjoying my discomfort.
I shifted uncomfortably in my towering heels and continued to smile at the cameras, feeling a little like a deer caught in the headlights. Oh shit. Pull it together, Lena.
“I’m her boyfriend,” he announced.
The line of cameras started snapping pictures frantically again.
“Give him a kiss!” a few people in the crowd called out.
I darted a glance at Marc and the bastard looked genuinely happy for a change. Damn him. He had the audacity to be enjoying this.
I turned back to the cameras, my discomfort replaced with the very immature desire to see him squirm like I just had. “Sure!”
Not allowing myself any time to think, I grabbed Marc’s hand and pulled him to me so his chest pressed against mine. I was wearing one of Ally’s creations—an elegant pale blue slip of a dress that fell to my ankles and required no lingerie, just a lot of double-sided tape.
All the breath left me and Marc’s deep brown eyes sparked like glowing embers.
Ignoring the flush working up my neck at the feel of his hard body against mine, I reached over and placed a hand on his bristled cheek. “You asked for it,” I whispered, right before I kissed him.
Our world exploded into a million silver lights as cameras went off everywhere around us, but I barely noticed. The only thing I was currently aware of was the softness of Marc’s lips on mine. Soft and so unexpectedly sweet that I let my tongue dive into his mouth to discover if the rest of him tasted the same.
His muffled groan vibrated against my chest and he opened his mouth to mine, inviting me to take more. And oh, there was so much more.
The sweetness was swept away by a spicy heat and need as he took me further from the world I knew. I felt the pressure of his hand grip my hip tighter, his thumb kneading small circles through the thin fabric.
It was only when I heard the crowd cheer that I remembered where we were and I stepped back, my heart pounding against my ribs.
If it was any consolation, Marc appeared dazed, too. But I was the first to round my shoulders and throw the onlookers a triumphant smile.
Beside me, Marc quickly regained his composure and his arm circled my waist again. Together we posed for the cameras and slowly made our way along the red carpet with the other attendees.
We didn’t speak, which was just as well because I wasn’t sure I could. I was still startled by the sweet, spicy aftertaste of him, although I didn’t show it. I’d been so certain I could just kiss him in front of the cameras like I had with other actors. We were playing a role, nothing more.
How naïve of me.
Marc wasn’t an actor. He never would be, and that kiss had tasted deliciously real.
*
I was tired by the time the night came to an end when Marc drove me home. It had taken all my strength to continue our farce. It didn’t help that other guests were excited to meet him and kept commenting on what a great couple we made.
I lost count of the number of photos we posed for and knew I would do everything I could to avoid seeing ourselves in the media in the following days. It also hadn’t helped that having him by my side felt natural after a while.
Marc was quiet on the trip home.
I didn’t dare ask him why. I could still taste him on my lips hours later and wondered if our kiss was playing on his mind too, or if it was already forgotten. Even if I’d been brave enough to ask, I was too scared to know the answer.
We drove through the front gate of my property in silence. He didn’t say anything until I opened the door to get out.
“I’ll pick you up the day after tomorrow to take you to the studio.”
“OK.” I slid out of the passenger seat and the late night air felt cool on my bare arms. I went to close the door behind me but Marc cleared his throat.
“Lena?”
“Yes?”
His brown eyes were almost black in the dimly lit cabin. Once again I couldn’t read them. Was he surprised by my lack of argument? He looked away and I thought I saw an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “It doesn’t matter. Goodnight.”
I hesitated only briefly before closing the door. The absence of any rudeness or teasing on his part struck me as unusual, but it came as a welcome relief so I hurried inside.
After carefully hanging my dress in my dressing room, I didn’t waste any time getting ready for bed. I grabbed my robe and went straight to the bathroom. With the faucet running, I set to scrubbing off the layers of make-up. It was usually a routine I didn’t mind. The deliberate removal of my ‘face’ felt like I was putting away a part of my costume. Tonight I was hasty and I rubbed a little too hard so that my skin became pink. It didn’t hide my pale complexion or the haunted look in my equally pale blue eyes.
I had to face facts. I was tired. I’d been working relentlessly ever since my separation from Duncan. Added to that, the recent ‘incident’ in my trail
er was something I’d been trying not to think about. But a certain hard-nosed security specialist wouldn’t let me forget about it for even a moment.
Kissing him hadn’t helped.
I didn’t need reminding that beneath his cool exterior he was a man. Nor did I need him thinking I was anything more than a case. He already knew too much about me. What secret parts of me remained were best left locked up safe.
I studied my reflection in the mirror. The color was fading from my cheeks and I could make out the light dusting of freckles. I touched them gently. Most actresses would hate them, but I cherished mine. They were evidence of memories of a happier time. Of summers spent with my mom and dad before the cancer, when we’d actually been a family.
I dropped my hand. It was so long ago and I was a different person now.
Not liking the direction of my thoughts, I stepped into the shower and turned up the temperature until it stung. I only let myself stay under the stream of water for a few minutes before getting out.
I frowned at the sound of a door slamming. Had I left the window open? When a breeze picked up it often pushed my bedroom door shut.
Stepping out of the shower, I grabbed my robe and threw it on. I was almost to the door when my phone vibrated with a message. It was on the bathroom counter where I’d left it. I went back and dropped it into the pocket of my robe. I’d check the message once I’d closed the window and I was in bed.
I rounded the corner from my private en suite into the adjacent dressing room and selected an oversized T-shirt to wear to bed. I had just slipped it over my head when I heard it.
Movement.
Or at least I thought it was movement. It was nothing more than the whisper of a sound. Like the air had been disturbed in the room beyond.
I couldn’t see much of my bedroom, as my dressing room was located in its far corner. All I could make out was the dimly lit wall opposite as I’d only turned my bedside lamp on. I’d have to turn the corner to see my bed, the windows and the small corridor that led to the hallway beyond.
I froze as I thought I sensed movement again.
The window, you idiot.
Of course. It was probably blowing the curtains and I needed to get a handle on my emotions. Marc’s constant vigilance over my safety was making me jumpy. I was safe here. Since Ally’s stalker, my estate was like Fort Knox with a twenty-four-seven presence at the gatehouse and security cameras everywhere monitoring everything.
My phone buzzed again to remind me about the message and I jumped. I put a hand to my chest and rolled my eyes at myself. I recovered the phone from the robe that was now hanging up and turned on the screen.
I frowned at the unknown number and opened the attached message:
I’m waiting for you in the bedroom.
Chapter 9
By the time Marc and the police arrived I was cradling a glass of water in my bathroom. I’d perched myself on top of the counter next to the sink, one side of my body resting against the cool glass of the mirror.
“She’s in there,” I heard one of the police officers say to Marc when he demanded to know where I was.
He strode into the bathroom and his polished black shoes squeaked on the marble tiles as he came to a stop in front of me. I studied the liquid in my glass for impurities.
“For fuck’s sake, Lena. Look at me.”
I took another sip and wished like hell it was something alcoholic, like whiskey.
“Lena!” His sharp reprimand had no effect and I closed my eyes because my head pounded. Ever since I’d stepped into my bedroom, it was if my heart had escaped my rib cage and now it beat a steady rhythm against my skull.
“Tell me you didn’t go out there?” he growled.
“Where else was I supposed to go?”
Marc swore and I opened my eyes when I felt his breath on my face. I swallowed at the fierce look directed at me from only inches away. “You should have stayed in here and called me.”
I set the glass down and swung my bare legs around to hang off the front of the counter. He was forced to straighten and step back. “And what? Cower in here like a cornered animal?”
A muscle worked in his jaw and he leaned in, placing a hand either side of my legs on the counter. “And let me do my job, that’s what. Did you consider that for even a moment?” His voice was deathly quiet.
I tipped my chin up at him, ignoring the soft caress of his breath on my face. “I’m not a victim, Romero.”
He stepped back and threw his hands up in the air, running one of them through his neatly cropped hair. “I never said you were, but I’ll tell you what you are: stupid.”
I jumped off the counter and crossed my arms in front of myself. “No. Stupid would be expecting someone else to protect me.”
“Don’t confuse luck with good sense. If he’d still been out there, I’d really like to know how you planned to protect yourself.” He inclined his head. “Especially looking like that.”
I glanced down at my bare legs poking out from beneath the oversized T-shirt. “What difference does this make?”
In one swift movement he reached over and caught me, twisting me around so my back was pressed against his body, his arm resting across my chest. The maneuver had been smooth rather than rough, and executed the way a dancer might twirl their partner. “Tell me,” he whispered in my ear. “How exactly did you expect to defend yourself against a man who is stronger than you are, screwed in the head, and intends to assault you?”
“Marc, are you in there?”
He pushed me away and I caught his look of disgust in the mirror as he stormed out.
I crossed the room slowly to the counter and picked up my drink, my hand shaking. My chest felt tight from where he’d held me, but I wasn’t hurt. Only short of breath.
“Oh my God, Lena!”
A tiny whirlwind of wavy black hair raced into the bathroom and threw herself at me.
“Ally,” I sighed, holding her tight and resting my chin on her head. It was the first time since the incident I’d felt close to tears.
She squeezed me and didn’t let go. “I came as soon as I could. Please tell me you’re alright?” She pushed away from our embrace and looked up at me. “Of course you’re not alright! I’m so sorry.” She looked like she was about to cry, too.
I managed a thin smile. “I’m not hurt. I’m OK.”
“Physically.”
My lip trembled and I looked away. “I’m fine.”
Ally reached over and held my hand. “Liar. But I get it. It’s OK.”
It wasn’t OK. It was so far from OK, but unless I pretended like I was fine there was no way I was going to get through this.
“Can you come downstairs?” she asked. “I can cook pancakes.”
A bubble of laughter escaped my lips.
She squeezed my hands. “I figure they’ll be up here for a while and then they’ll need to ask lots of questions, and you could do with some sugar.”
I nodded and let her lead me from the bathroom. In the dressing room, I dropped her hand and slipped on a pair of jeans, then threw a loose-fitting jumper over my head to hide the fact I wasn’t wearing a bra.
“Ready?” Ally’s dark brown eyes held concern as well as assurance. For a split second, it took me back to our teenage years and the tightness in my chest became crushing. “Hey.” She stepped in and rubbed her palm on my back. “You can do this. I know you can.”
I swallowed and nodded again. Eyes down, we slipped out of the dressing room and I let her pull me past the swarm of police officers surrounding my bed. For once, I was glad my bedroom was so large.
When we reached the doorway, I heard my name.
“Lena.” Marc’s voice was soft.
I stopped but deliberately didn’t look at him. It was out of character for me, but I knew Marc would know why. “Yes?”
“We’ll need to ask you more questions.”
“I know.”
“I’m cooking her pancakes,” Ally sai
d.
The conversation in the room fell silent and I saw Ally give them all a bright smile out of the corner of my eye. “If you promise to be nice, I’ll make some for everyone.” Even if the uniformed officials weren’t nice, Ally always made enough to feed a football team.
“Good idea,” Marc said, while I continued to look at my toes. The conversation started up again, like he’d given the cue for everyone to get back to work.
I felt Ally tug gently on my arm. At the last second I made the stupid mistake of looking up as if Marc’s presence had some sort of magnetic pull on me.
Our eyes met. To my surprise there was no simmering anger, but something much gentler. Regret mixed with resignation? I’d been too busy being petulant in the bathroom earlier to notice Marc still wore the suit from the movie premiere, the tie loosened around his neck. I wanted to tell him I was sorry. That I’d been in shock and I shouldn’t have reacted like that.
He glanced toward the bed and before I could stop myself I followed the direction of his gaze.
I sucked in a sharp breath.
“Lena,” Ally said softly.
But I couldn’t look away. It was exactly as I’d found it. The cover pulled back to reveal pristine white bed sheets that were no longer pristine. They were stained with the evidence of the man who had stood over my bed and left his mark—like some sort of sick tribute. He’d been thoughtful enough to scatter rose petals nearby, and I knew it was that same thoughtfulness that had driven him to pull back the covers so that the fluid soaked into the mattress.
Marc stepped into my line of vision. “Go downstairs.”
Bile rose in my throat and I let Ally lead me away. I didn’t need to be asked again.
*
Despite Ally’s delicious cooking I couldn’t do much more than pick at the pancakes. On a normal day she would have taken me to task about it, but tonight she sat silently beside me pushing her own around the plate.
“I should have locked myself in the bathroom. There’s a lock,” I told her.
She looked up briefly then back down at the plate. “You can’t predict how you’ll react in a stressful situation.”
Heartbreaker (Hollywood Hearts Book 2) Page 5
