Heartbreaker (Hollywood Hearts Book 2)

by Belinda Williams

  “How much longer, Jay?”

  We were waiting outside in a crowd of other actors and actresses. Most of them were heading off to various other after-parties. People kept calling out to me, waving and smiling, and I had the irrational urge to take shelter behind Jay’s broad back.

  “Not long.” He seemed to sense my unease and kept an arm hovering near my waist.

  The crowd moved forward as more people were picked up. It wasn’t until the bodyguard wearing a suit in front of us turned to guide another actress along that I recognized who it was.

  “Kaden!”

  Aaron turned slowly, like he didn’t like his name being said out loud. His blue eyes were cool as they met mine.

  “Lena.” He stared hard at me and didn’t say anything else.

  I glanced over at Jay for reassurance then back to Aaron. “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight.”

  He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I’m working.”

  “Is Marc here?”

  I hadn’t meant for it to sound so hopeful.

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “Why would Marc be here?”

  I smiled awkwardly, not sure what to make of his cold behavior. It was true we’d never really clicked, but I’d developed a professional respect for him.

  “I thought he might be working,” I told him.

  “Marc doesn’t work for us anymore.” He turned away from me so he could watch his client, a young brunette called Dana Myers, who was making a name for herself starring in action films.

  I reached out to grab his arm, but thought the better of it. “What do you mean?”

  He didn’t turn around. “He’s left the business. I thought you knew.”

  I stared at his profile. “I had no idea. He told me he was on assignment outside of LA.”

  Aaron swore but still didn’t look at me. “I told you to stay away from him.”

  I bristled at his comment and took a step closer. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means what I said it means.”

  I gaped at him. “Are you somehow implying the reason Marc quit is because of me?”

  Aaron shot me a sharp look. “You said it, not me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a job to do.”

  He stepped away, ready to lead Dana to a waiting car, but this time I had the courage to grab his arm.

  I let go when he shot me a dark look, but I wasn’t about to give up.

  “I’m not surprised he quit. The job is a really bad fit for him—” At Kaden’s ice-cold glare, I simply raised an eyebrow. “Tell me you didn’t see it too? You had to. You served in Afghanistan together. You know him better than anyone. You’re practically brothers.”

  Kaden frowned, tilting his head so I couldn’t see his eyes, but I caught the flash of guilt.

  “What happened, Aaron?” It was the first time I’d ever used his given name and I hoped it would help me to get through to him. “That night in the hospital, I heard Marc say he didn’t know who to trust anymore. What did he mean?”

  “You heard that?” Instead of the retaliation I’d expected, his voice held surprise—even a hint of resignation.

  “Yes. And I haven’t been able to make any sense of it. We all know he distrusts anything Hollywood, but you, Aaron, I know he trusts you.”

  Kaden cast a quick glance back at Dana. Satisfied that she was happily chatting to some other actresses, he took a step closer and lowered his voice. “He doesn’t trust me. Not anymore.”

  “Why?”

  Regret deepened the lines of his face and his eyes were tired as they met mine. “Marc suspected Ben, but when he told the production company they told him to drop it.”

  I stiffened as his words sunk in, gripping the material of my skirt when what I really wanted to do was put my head in my hands, but that would draw too much attention.

  “Of course, he fought them on it.” Kaden grimaced. “And me, too. I told him to leave it alone and I shouldn’t have. I’m ashamed to say I was thinking of the business, not you, and Campbell was a good suspect—the obvious suspect. No one wanted to deal with the fallout of discovering Benjamin Eales wasn’t what he said he was.”

  “Except for Marc.”

  “Except for Marc. I’m sorry, Lena.”

  I nodded, but my body felt numb. Poor Marc. In this case, his mistrust of Hollywood was accurate. The situation had forced him to compromise not only his values, but question his loyalty to his oldest, most trusted friend.

  Kaden turned to go, but I grabbed his arm again.

  “Where is he?”

  Kaden sighed. “I can’t tell you that.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve already lost my business partner. I can’t betray his trust more than I already have. I don’t want to lose my friend, too.”

  “Because he doesn’t want me to find him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is he OK?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied flatly. “I haven’t been in contact with him since he left.”

  “Aaron, please. Where is he? I haven’t spoken to him, since . . . since, you know.”

  I thought I saw his eyes soften but it could have been a trick of the dim light. He brought his large palm up to rest on my hand. He squeezed me gently—more gently than I’d thought him capable of. “If you don’t already know where Marc is, then I can’t help you. Good luck, Lena.” He nodded once, then turned around to guide Dana toward a waiting car.

  I let out a quiet huff and I watched him go.

  I watched him go then turned to face Jay. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to rush off.”

  “Ain’t no rushing in that dress.”

  I cracked a smile, grateful as always for his good humor. I blew out a long breath. “Did you hear Aaron? He was absolutely no help.”

  “Sounds to me like he thought you didn’t need it.”

  I frowned, aware it wasn’t an ideal expression with all the cameras around, but I was too confused to worry about it. “Why would he think that?”

  “You can’t help someone with something they know already.”

  “But I don’t know anything. I haven’t spoken to Marc in weeks.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You know Marc.”

  “Not well enough,” I muttered. “Besides, Kaden made it pretty obvious he didn’t want me near Marc.”

  “No, what he made obvious was that if you know Marc, you’d know where he is.”

  “I’ve got no idea—” I stopped and blinked, then squeezed Jay’s arm. It had taken me a moment to realize what Jay meant. “The ranch! Of course, he’d be at the ranch! That’s where he goes when, when . . . ” I groaned. “I don’t know where it is.” Damn Marc and his over-the-top security.

  “Yeah, but I do, remember?”

  I gaped at Jay but only for a second. “Take me there.”

  He cocked his head. “What? Now?”

  “Yes. Please.”

  His eyebrows rose.

  “Please, Jay. I know it’s late and—”

  “Fine.”

  I blinked. Well, that had been easier than I expected. It was nearing midnight and the drive out there would take at least two hours. It wasn’t one of my more reasonable requests as his employer.

  “Are you sure?” I said, immediately feeling guilty.

  He shrugged. “You want to go, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then we’ll go.”

  He put his cell phone to his ear and I could hear him telling Tim about our change of plans.

  I felt my eyes prick with tears. Jay was a good security guy and a good man. He’d seen the change in me firsthand since Ben’s attack. My broken sleep, the pinched expression on my face that I tried to hide whenever I thought anyone was watching—but he could see it. He’d worked for me for years and he knew me better than most.

  God, was I so pathetic that one of the few people who really knew me was my bodyguard?

  I sniffed, determined not to cry. This had to stop now. This lonelines
s. This emptiness.

  It’s what Ally had been alluding to earlier in the night, but as usual I’d tried to pretend everything was fine. She was one of the only people I had a lasting bond with, but that was because Ally was safe. We’d grown up together and she couldn’t hurt me, not in the way a lover could.

  It didn’t matter. It was time I opened myself up more. I was skilled at doing it for the cameras, but that was pretend.

  Now I needed to do it for real.

  With Marc.

  For once I needed to put my heart on the line and risk being hurt. I was starting to see that it had been a protective instinct to push him away when I learned how he’d kept important information from me. I hadn’t given things a chance between us. I hadn’t even heard his side of the story. I’d been too busy trying to protect myself.

  Jay put the cell phone back in his pocket. “Come on. Here’s Tim. Stand here while I clear the area so you can get that damn, I mean, beautiful dress in the car.”

  I nodded. It was now or never.

  *

  Jay rode with Tim in the front and we didn’t speak. The truth was, I was tired. I was always so tired these days. The psychiatrist I’d been seeing had told me it was normal to feel this way, especially with the lack of sleep. Too often, I was wrenched awake with visions—or were they memories?—of the panic room and what had occurred inside. I understood it was my mind’s way of trying to make sense of the situation, but I wished I could tell it there was no sense to Ben’s attack. It was messed-up and wrong and I’d forever be scarred by it.

  I watched the LA lights on the horizon. We were leaving the city behind and they sparkled at us as if to beckon us home.

  I wondered if that was what it was like for Marc. Did he constantly relive the trauma he’d experienced in Afghanistan? The psychiatrist told me many who served returned with PTSD, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and Marc had mentioned the same thing. At the time, I’d thought he meant he’d escaped it, but now I was beginning to see that what you saw on the outside could be very different to what was on the inside.

  Look at me. For all my fame and success I still felt broken. But weren’t we all in some way? What I was starting to understand was that it wasn’t something to be ashamed of.

  It took us another hour to reach the town I remembered called New Cuyama. As we left it behind and headed toward the wilderness I tried to calm my racing thoughts.

  What was I doing driving all this way and turning up unannounced? What if he wasn’t even there? In the darkness I looked down at my dress. It was so sparkly it was practically glowing in the moonlight. No chance of him not seeing me coming.

  When the gravel crunched underneath the tires and we wound our way up the track to the house, I peered out the window. I’d forgotten how dark it got out here.

  To my relief, I saw a light on in a window. It glowed weakly, like it was an effort. The rest of the house was dark.

  Tim killed the engine and I listened to the silence for a minute. There was no indication anyone had seen us in the house.

  “I’m ready,” I told Jay.

  He came around and opened the door for me and we did an awkward shuffle to get me out of the car. As beautiful as the dress was, maybe next time I’d request Ally design something more low-key.

  I followed Jay to the front door, like a lost princess. It was dark on the landing, only the thin sliver of a moon lighting our way.

  I knocked on the door. It sounded loud in the silence but nobody stirred inside. Maybe no one was here after all.

  “Come on. Let’s have a look inside.”

  Jay’s eyebrows rose. “You sure about this?”

  “Yes.”

  I tried the handle. For a second it got stuck, but then it turned all the way and the door opened. I stepped into the foyer, my Cinderella heels echoing on the tiles.

  “Hello? Marc? It’s Lena. Are you here?”

  Silence.

  With a glance around the foyer, I followed the light from the hall that I remembered led to the kitchen. It was entirely possible we were all alone out here, I reasoned. Perhaps they just left a light on so it didn’t look like nobody lived here—

  “Oh.”

  I froze in the doorway to the kitchen. Marc’s back greeted me, but he made no sign he was aware of our presence. He was propped on a stool at the island bench, slumped over the counter.

  “Marc?” I said quietly, worried I would startle him.

  He groaned, and that’s when I saw it.

  The alcohol.

  Chapter 40

  I put a hand on the doorframe to steady myself and closed my eyes.

  No, this couldn’t be happening. It was too painful, too familiar, but I pushed the bad memories away and forced myself to take in the scene before me.

  As much as I wanted to deny what I was seeing, the state of the kitchen was evidence enough. Empty plates and food scraps lay scattered on the counter, but I didn’t care about that. All I saw were the bottles.

  “Marc,” I snapped, and marched into the kitchen.

  I wasn’t sure if it was my reprimand or the sharp sound of my high heels on the floor, but Marc roused.

  He opened his eyes, but only barely in that way all drunk people do when they are hungover. I wasn’t having any of it.

  Marc blinked when he saw me. Then he registered my gown and straightened properly, his eyes widening.

  “Princess,” he whispered.

  I swallowed the ball of emotion lodged in my throat. I wasn’t going to let myself think about whether that word was an endearment or a description, I needed to focus. I put my hands on my hips and surveyed the mess, ignoring Jay retreating into the hallway. I knew he’d be nearby if I needed him.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I demanded.

  “What? Why didn’t I tell you what?” Marc said gruffly, sounding more like his usual self.

  I grabbed the nearest bottle that was still about a quarter full and walked over to the sink. My hand shook as I poured it out. “That you had a problem.”

  “What problem?”

  “Oh? So this is normal then?” I set the empty bottle down on the counter with a loud thunk. “I guess I never saw your apartment in LA,” I mused to myself.

  I found another half-empty bottle and began to pour.

  Marc rubbed a hand over his face and squinted at me. “What are you doing?”

  “What does it look like?”

  Marc blinked a few more times like he couldn’t quite believe it was me. “You’re pouring whiskey down the drain.”

  “Damn right I am. What else have you got?”

  His chair scraped on the floor as he stood up, and I didn’t miss the way he had to brace himself on the counter.

  “Bourbon. This will do. It’s awful anyway.” I enjoyed the glug, glug, glug the tawny-colored liquid made as I poured it into the sink.

  “Lena. Stop.”

  I jumped when he put two hands on my shoulders and I set the bottle down slowly. I didn’t turn around because I was only barely holding it together. “No, Marc. I will not stop. Not until every drop of this is down the drain.” I picked up the bottle again, but he caught my hand.

  When I reluctantly turned and met his eyes, I saw pain in them. “Princess. What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to see you. I saw Kaden tonight. He said you weren’t part of the business anymore.”

  “No, I’m not.” He was still holding my arm and didn’t attempt to let go. “Did he tell you where I was?”

  “No,” I said quickly, not wanting Marc to think Aaron had betrayed his trust. “He wouldn’t tell me. He said I should already know.”

  Marc’s eyes narrowed and they were rimmed with dark circles. “So you came here?”

  “Yes.”

  He dropped my arm and turned away, putting his hand to his head. “You shouldn’t have come.”

  “Actually, I disagree. Given the state of this place and you—”

  “You shouldn’t have c
ome!”

  I flinched at his raised voice but kept my expression neutral. “Why?” I challenged. “So I wouldn’t see this?”

  He started pacing the room, his eyes on the floor. “Yes, no. I don’t know.” He stopped walking and hung his head. I didn’t need to see his face to see the shame. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

  “What? So you’re not an alcoholic?” I managed only the slightest waver on the last word.

  After a beat, he met my gaze. Instead of shame, I saw determination in his brown eyes. “No.”

  I wanted to believe him, I really did, but it wasn’t like I was new to this. “Right.” I waved a hand in the general area of the kitchen. “So what’s this then?”

  “A mess.”

  I glanced around the kitchen. Despite the tense atmosphere in the room, I saw his lip quirk but it was gone quickly.

  “I’m not an alcoholic,” he repeated.

  “Oh?” I floated closer to him in my ridiculously inappropriate yet stunning dress.

  His gaze dropped to my gown and I saw him swallow.

  “I’m plenty of things, Lena. But I’m not an alcoholic. I promise you that. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  I gave him a tight smile. “You see, in my experience, it doesn’t work that way. You don’t get a choice not to hurt the people around you. The need for the alcohol is bigger than that.”

  “I don’t need alcohol.”

  “Funny. Judging by the state of this place it looks like you’ve been needing quite a lot.”

  “What you see here is the result of three weeks of me not lifting a finger to clean up after myself. Besides, have you ever smelled alcohol on me before now? Has there ever been any evidence to suggest I might be hiding an addiction?”

  This time it was my turn to divert my gaze. At the assuredness in his tone, he almost sounded like the Marc I knew. The in-control security specialist who dealt with problems with logic and facts.

  I hesitated. I had to admit, I couldn’t smell any alcohol on him and he didn’t appear hungover like I’d first thought. And I knew all the signs. In all honesty, he just appeared exhausted, but I still wasn’t willing to believe it.