I trust you will keep the information revealed above confidential.
Lena.
Chapter 27
“You sure about this?” Jay asked from the front seat. “It looks kind of small.”
“Surely you’re happy about that?”
The way his forehead wrinkled told me otherwise.
“It’s gated,” I pointed out.
Before he could reply, we both turned at the sound of a black sedan pulling up beside us.
“That will be Aaron.”
Kaden. Jay had been consulting with Aaron Kaden on the purchase of my new property and today I would get the chance to meet him. The house we were currently parked in the driveway of was on my consideration list and we wanted Aaron to review it from a security point of view.
Jay and I got out of the car and watched as Kaden came around to greet us.
Gosh. And I’d thought Jay was big.
Kaden was a mountain of a man, tall like Marc, but that’s where the similarities ended. Where Marc had the grace of a panther, Kaden’s physique was like a tank. He walked over to us with a confident swagger. The sparkle in his blue eyes was the first thing I noticed after his stature.
“Ms Lyons. It’s a pleasure.” His deep voice was smooth and strong.
“Likewise.”
Jay and Aaron shook hands and then stood back to take in the view of the house. It had a lot of similarities to Marc’s ranch but on a smaller scale. The Californian Mission architecture looked comfortable in its surrounds and well-established gardens sympathetic to the West Coast climate bordered the house. It gave it a feeling of protection while still being welcoming.
“It’s small,” Aaron commented.
“Jay’s already raised that. I thought that would be a good thing.”
Aaron gestured for us to follow him up the stone drive. As we walked, I saw him taking everything in. I had the impression that, like Marc, this man didn’t miss a thing.
“Small can be good and bad,” he said. “It gives you a sense of security but it can actually make you more vulnerable.”
“In what way?” I stepped onto the small landing outside the front door, so different to the magnificent entrance of my current house.
Jay slipped between us and opened the door.
Aaron held an arm out and indicated I should enter the house. “Fewer places to hide.”
I ignored the unsettled feeling his words created and entered the house.
Inside the realtor was waiting for us. The middle-aged woman’s heavily made-up face looked almost clownish as she smiled in welcome.
She rushed over. Her shoulder-length black hair didn’t move at all on account of generous hairspray application. “Ms Lyons. Wonderful to meet you. I’m Diana Reeve. Isn’t this place just charming?”
And indeed it was. As she led us around, it was difficult not to be captivated by it. The polished wooden floors and windows complemented the earthy tone of the walls, and the timber featured in the kitchen as well. Like Marc’s house, this one had cathedral ceilings, but on a more modest scale. They’d been painted white in the living areas and left natural in the bedrooms, of which there were only three.
“Now, for me, this is one of the biggest highlights of this gorgeous house,” gushed Diana, leading us into a long, rectangular room. “The library. Isn’t it fantastic?”
It was better than fantastic. It was heavenly. Timber shelves went all the way to the ceiling on the interior wall and I brushed my hand against the rows of books as we walked. Opposite the shelves were wooden French doors that ran the length of the room. In the center, sat a traditional rug and a couple of armchairs. I could easily imagine myself sitting here for hours reading scripts.
“I’ll be honest with you. I know the house is a little on the small side but I believe this room makes up for it,” Diana went on.
“I don’t have an issue with the size of this house, but yes, I agree with you about this room. It’s lovely.”
After that, Diana showed us the outdoor area at the rear of the property. A grassed area and some tall palms surrounded a sparkling swimming pool. It was all very tropical and low-key, and if I bought it I’d probably end up putting some stone pavers down.
Aaron walked around the pool, obviously scoping out the land. It was protected on all sides by layers of shrubs and tall trees, which looked to be masking a high wall.
“It’s very private,” Diana said. “And of course the compound is entirely gated. I know Coldwater Canyon isn’t the Hollywood Hills like you’re used to, but it’s a Beverly Hills address. And as I’m sure you’re aware these properties are very tightly held.”
I nodded. “Yes, I know. If you wouldn’t mind giving me a minute with my team?”
“Certainly.”
Diana wandered back into the house and I joined Jay and Aaron by the side of the pool.
“So, what’s the verdict?”
“There’s no gatehouse,” said Jay, who was used to having one at my current property. I couldn't blame him—it was his office and this smaller house essentially had no place for him to work.
“You construct one,” Aaron told us. “Which is better anyway. That way you can ensure it’s set up exactly how we need it.”
Jay nodded.
“I’m fine with that,” I said. “What else?”
“The outside is fine,” Aaron replied. “I’ll be suggesting a few tweaks, but I’ll put that in my report to Jay.”
“But?”
Aaron gave the house a wary glance. “The inside. Like I said, it’s small.”
“I know, but that’s what I want. I want to feel like I’m living in a home.” Not a movie set, but I didn’t say that.
He blew out a breath. “Yeah, I get that. But you have fewer places to go if you are in trouble.”
“But surely that’s better? At my current house I’d have no chance of getting to Jay in the gatehouse quickly if I had to. Here it will only be a short walk.”
“The basement,” he said. “Would you consider securing it?”
“Why?”
“It would be somewhere for you to go if you got in trouble. You could wait there in safety until the threat was resolved.”
“A panic room?” I recalled the way I’d shut myself in my bathroom to protect myself.
Aaron shrugged. “If that’s what you want to call it. By the looks of the floor plan we could make it accessible from various places in the house. Your bedroom and the kitchen would be a good start. But it will cost you.”
“That’s not an issue.” And it wasn’t. I intended to sell my Hollywood Hills estate and this house was going to be a fraction of the cost even with Aaron’s suggestions. “I’d like to make an offer on this house. Is there any reason I shouldn’t?”
“Apart from those I’ve outlined, all of which can be addressed, I don’t see why not,” Aaron replied.
“Good. And I’d like to officially appoint you to work with Jay to make everything we’ve just discussed happen.”
“I appreciate that,” said Aaron. “And so does Marc.”
At the mention of Marc’s name, I felt a flutter in my stomach. I was sure it was just because I hadn’t eaten all morning and was probably hungry. “Until the other week I had no idea he had a business partner.”
A wide grin split Aaron’s face. “I’m not surprised.”
“I’d suggest you don’t put him in charge of sales,” I added.
Aaron laughed softly. “No, I’m well aware of that, but it’s good to have the customer feedback.”
“He said the business was your idea?”
Aaron’s smile faltered. He appraised me openly, his blue eyes suddenly cool, as though I was a risk to be assessed. “He told you that?”
Well, this was interesting. You didn’t need to be a security specialist to know Aaron had just gone into protective mode about his business partner and friend.
I glanced over at Jay. “Jay, would you mind getting a contract from Diana?”
Jay looked between the two of us then nodded. He’d sensed the change in the atmosphere but knew I’d call out if I needed him.
When he was gone, I turned back to Aaron. “Yes, Marc told me that. Why, is that a problem?”
Aaron was still studying me, but I wasn’t intimidated. If anything, this was too good an opportunity to pass up. Yes, I’d told myself Marc wasn’t a character to figure out, but I still couldn’t help myself. “He also told me you served together in Afghanistan. That you got him out.”
Aaron’s eyebrows shot up and he was too shocked to hide it. “He told you that?” he said again.
“He did.”
Respect replaced the wariness in Aaron’s gaze and he let out a low whistle. “Now I know why he was so grumpy. You did get under his skin.”
“He’s always grumpy.”
His laughter echoed around the pool area. “You got that right.” Then his gaze turned serious. “Lena, I’m going to tell you something and I suggest you listen carefully, alright?”
“Alright.” I was too intrigued to be worried about his change in tone.
Aaron leaned in so I could see the flecks of hazel in his blue eyes. “Marc Romero is a good man. The best I know. But you’ll hurt him, and yourself in the process, if you get much closer. So, my advice? Deal with me from now on.” He flashed me a smile and I was amazed at how quickly he’d gone from stern to affable good guy again. “I’m the people person of this operation. Now, let’s get you inside and close this deal.”
Chapter 28
“What are we toasting to?”
“I bought the house.”
My girlfriends raised their glasses and cheered. After everyone had taken a sip, I smiled at them. This relaxed impromptu dinner at my estate was just what I needed.
“Taking a step down in the world, huh?” Faith’s dark eyes glimmered with mischief.
“You bet I am.”
Chloe contemplated the massive open-plan kitchen. “Surely you’ll miss the Gone with the Wind staircase?”
“I will miss that, but I’m looking forward to living in a home more.”
“I can’t wait to see it,” said Ally. “When do you move in?”
“Next week.”
The girls all lowered their glasses and stared at me.
“What? It was available now and the repairs are about to start here.” No way did I want to live in the middle of a construction site.
“But didn’t you say you had to make some alterations for security purposes?” asked Faith.
“Already on it. Jay will use the garage when I move in and oversee the security install from there. It will be easier that way, rather than trying to juggle two sites.”
“If you say so.” Ally tapped her finger against the side of the glass, looking worried.
“I’ll be safe. During the transition, I’ll be spending most of my time on-set while we finish filming. It’s a good arrangement.”
“True,” said Chloe. “But won’t that make the crew party in a couple of weeks difficult?”
I let out a rush of breath. “Damn. I’d totally forgotten about that. It was so long ago. And I guess I’ve been so busy with work and the move I forgot.”
Before the stalking incident and the fire and everything else, I’d offered to host the end-of-production party at my estate. It was something of a tradition of mine—and Duncan’s. On the movies we’d worked on together, he would host a party for the cast and crew, and I’d decided to continue the idea despite our separation.
“Well, you can’t hold it here,” said Chloe. “You only have half a house. I’m sure nobody will be offended if you call it off. You’ve had a crazy few months.”
“No, no. I’ll still host it. In fact, it will be the perfect housewarming.”
“Um, not to sound stupid, but isn’t it a bit small?” said Chloe.
“It’s not tiny. Yes, it only has three bedrooms, plus the guesthouse, but the grounds are quite large. We’ll host it out back and put up some tents if necessary. We can use the guesthouse to serve drinks. Actually, now I’m even more excited about the move.”
Faith’s lip quirked. “I never took you for the excited type. You’re more cool, calm and collected.”
“What’s wrong with being enthusiastic about my new house?”
Faith held up her hands. “Nothing.”
“You know what I think it is?” said Ally, “It’s because it’s Lena’s first home.”
I frowned. “No, it’s not. I’ve moved around heaps.”
“Yes,” she said. “You’ve moved around a lot, from place to place when you were modeling. Then Duncan bought you this big-ass house, but it’s never been a home.”
“No, you’re right.” Once again, Ally understood me. This time, the purchase had been entirely my choice. My new house felt like the first real chance I’d had to finally put down some proper roots.
“I can’t wait to have my own place when the time comes.” At almost twenty-one, Chloe still lived with her parents in their Hollywood Hills mansion. It put my current house to shame, which was saying something. “But I need to stay there a while longer so I can plan the birthday party of the decade.”
Ally grinned. “How’s the planning going?”
Chloe returned the grin. “It’s awesome. You should see the set-up for the stage area. Gypsy Hour are going to rock.”
“You do know it’s not a concert, right?” said Faith, amused.
“Um, it so totally is a concert. It’s my twenty-first birthday concert. And Gypsy Hour are my birthday present.”
We all burst out laughing.
“But that’s still a couple of months away,” Chloe said. “In the meantime, let us know if we can do anything to help you settle into your new house, Lena.”
The others agreed and at the same time my phone beeped. I pressed the screen and saw a message from my publicist, Trudy: You’re going to want to read this. Call me ASAP.
I frowned.
“What is it?” said Ally.
“I’m not sure.” I clicked on the link. “Oh shit.”
The others gathered around and I was too dazed to be worried about them reading over my shoulder.
“The bastard,” said Faith.
“I’m so sorry, Lena,” whispered Ally.
I barely felt Chloe squeeze my shoulder.
The headline said it all: Hollywood superstar abandons sick father.
Somehow I managed to skim the article through the tears in my eyes. How could he? Hadn’t he put me through enough already?
“So basically he’s saying he’s washed-up and penniless and you should be helping him out. My read is he’s going for the sympathy vote by revealing his alcoholism,” said Faith.
“Yes,” I whispered.
It was all there. Every last detail. His absence during my mother’s illness; his deep regret at leaving me with the responsibility of caring for my sick mother; then his turnaround later in life when he met the new woman; and reliving the pain again when she died.
“I don’t see how he’ll need any money after this,” said Chloe. “They would have paid him a heap.”
She was right. All the personal details of my private life were there on the page. It was a time in my life I’d fought to keep concealed from the media and now my father had revealed all.
It was going to be a media frenzy.
“Whatever you need,” said Ally, grasping my hand. “We’re here for you. I’m happy to be interviewed too and tell them it’s all lies.”
“But it’s not,” I said, clutching her fingers a little too tightly. “It’s all true.”
“Who cares?” she shot back, angry on my behalf. “You don’t deserve this, and I’ll do anything it takes to help this die down quickly.”
I gave her a weak smile, grateful beyond words. “Thank you.” I knew how much she hated the media. That she would do this for me meant so much. “Let me talk to Trudy. Hopefully it won’t come to that.”
*
>
It didn’t quite come to that, but it may as well have. When I wasn’t filming, I attended interviews. Trudy had been careful which media outlets I spoke to, but even then it still didn’t go well.
We’d agreed my position should be one that would draw sympathy. So, against my better judgment, I explained my side of the story. Now the whole world knew how, at a time in my life when I’d most needed my father, he’d abandoned me. I described how I’d managed to survive that time—barely—and had cut all contact with him since then. We hoped it would make me appear vulnerable and it sure as hell made me feel that way, revealing details of my personal life like that. But instead of reacting with sympathy, everyone just wanted more from me. And the one thing they all kept asking of me was the one thing I refused to consider: a reconciliation with my father.
My answer was no, no, and definitely no.
Trudy had even tried to broach the subject one day after a particularly grueling interview, but I’d snapped at her, and immediately felt bad. She knew it was unlike me, and she didn’t raise it again.
Social media became something I dreaded. My Twitter feed was filled with comments about alcoholism. Many people had experienced family members suffering from it, and they agreed with me—but many didn’t. They saw me as hard, distant and cold, and felt I should have more compassion for my father, who so obviously needed my help.
Compassion? I wanted to scream. Where was his compassion for his dying wife fifteen years ago or his terrified daughter? How could I show compassion to a man who had given up on us?
Faith had called me cool, calm and collected—but that didn’t help either. The more professional I was in interviews, the worse it got. When it got to the stage where trolls were calling me a heartless bitch, that was it. I was done.
“No more,” I told Trudy over the phone one day. “No more interviews.”
“Are you sure? I think this next—”
Heartbreaker (Hollywood Hearts Book 2) Page 18
