by Zoey Parker
Adjusting the button-down shirt Abby had talked me into wearing, I tried to make myself seem comfortable, though I really wasn’t. She’d insisted on the shirt, saying that it was just good business to look the part, and since I would be seen with her, it was important to keep up appearances. I might have fought her on it, but it didn’t seem worth the effort. After all, it was only a shirt. She couldn’t get me to wear the tie and blazer she’d encouraged to go with it though.
“I’m not a butler,” I’d told her in irritation. She’d let it go, but I still wore the shirt, so I supposed we both won little battles.
The audition took forever in my mind, but in reality it was maybe only thirty minutes. Probably not even that long. I was surprised, actually, at how long it took in the end. I had figured there would be all kinds of negotiations and haggling and arguing involved, but as Abby exited the room—her body drawing my eye instantly so that I was staring at those perfect curves, drinking them in, wishing I could smooth my hands along them—she was laughing with one of the people who had just seen her. Like they were best friends. It wasn’t really the reaction I’d been expecting in all honesty.
“How’d it go?” I asked when Abby came to me.
Her eyes sparkled and she looked excited, wild, like she’d just gotten a serious buzz or stepped off the dance floor after an amazing performance. Maybe that was just what it was like for her. Then she seemed to remember that we were having…issues, because her look softened, became muted. “Fine.” She gathered up her things and we began to head toward the car.
There was a stretch of silence that I didn’t appreciate, so I tried again. “Do you think you got the part?”
She lifted her shoulders in a delicate shrug that lifted her breasts up in a deliciously perfect way. “We’ll be in negotiations for a while still. They have a lot of people to audition still, but they’ll want me first just because of my name even if they didn’t like the audition.”
“I’m sure they did,” I put in.
She continued on as though she hadn’t heard me, but I could tell by the slight tint of her cheeks that she had heard me and was probably pleased about it. “But they’ll have to offer me what I want and that’ll cost them. If they don’t have the budget, they’ll try to get me to go down, but I’ll probably hold firm on most of it. After all, budgets are made for big names and they’re mostly trying to be skimpy anyway. It’s important to be firm about this or you’ll get run over in a place like Hollywood.”
I didn’t understand any of this. It all seemed foreign, but I knew a little something about holding your ground and could relate to that at least. I appreciated that she was a strong person, regardless of what field she was working in and that was all that mattered to me.
The elevator stopped at the ground floor before it headed to the garage to pick up another passenger. I didn’t like the idea of going down with a man with a build close to what I remembered from the night Abby first got attacked. Meaning he could be her stalker. Maybe I was only being paranoid, but it was hard not to be given the circumstances, so I decided to err on the side of caution.
Taking Abby by the arm, I smiled politely at the man and said, “Excuse us.” Abby glanced up at me only once in confusion, but waved politely at the man as we exited. The man’s gaze lingered on Abby, which I didn’t appreciate, but he didn’t try to get out as the elevator doors closed again.
“What was that all about?” Abby asked.
I shook my head. “Nothing.”
She looked unconvinced—because she wasn’t stupid—but didn’t push it. “Okay, well, since we’re here, I’m going to use the ladies’ room.” She pointed to the door just down the hall on our left.
I frowned. I really wanted to get back to the car and get the hell out of here. It was a lot easier to protect her in her own home rather than out and about in the city. There were too many variables out here. I couldn’t go in with her to the bathroom, obviously, but would he feel the same about it? Probably not. He could duck into the rest room and attack her and by the time I figured it out…
Abby was already walking toward the restroom and I wanted to call out for her to stop, but it was a long drive, mostly in stopped traffic, before we got home, so I held my tongue and let her. I’d just have to keep a close eye on the door.
I was doing just that when one of the blondes from the audition upstairs spotted me and sent me a flirtatious smile. I ignored it mostly, just nodding in acknowledgement, keeping my focus on the door to the restroom. But the woman seemed oblivious and walked over to me.
“Hey there,” she said in a high-pitched voice that instantly grated on my nerves. “I saw you at the audition. Looking to pick up girls?” She giggled.
“No,” I told her curtly.
“You sure? Because a guy like you…” She trailed her finger down the line of my shirt, letting her nail catch on the buttons as she went. “Well, I’m sure you’d have a lot of luck.”
Feeling frustrated, I grabbed her hand and looked away from the door for one second to make my intentions perfectly clear. “I’m not interested.” And before I could stop myself, before this dumb blonde could say anything more, I added, “I’m waiting for my girl, so why don’t you get the hell—”
But before I could finish telling her off, I heard a scream. I released the woman’s hand, jerking my gaze up in time to see that it was Abby who had screamed. She was struggling with a man in a navy jacket and dark slacks.
Shoving the woman aside, I raced to Abby as quickly as I could, though I felt as though I was moving through molasses. When I reached her, she was shaking and crying, leaning against the wall. The man was running down the hall and disappeared around the corner before I could even think to go after him.
“Are you alright?” I demanded, holding tightly to her shoulders.
She gave a single shake of her head, then showed me what she had fisted in her hands. An Angels baseball cap.
Chapter Thirteen
Abby
Kade spent the next three days trying to convince me to just stay at home, and I was a little ashamed to admit that it had been working. After that last attack, I was pretty shaken up. I couldn’t lie to myself anymore about what was going on—it was way too late for that. Uncle Caleb knew that I had a stalker and so did Kade; there was no more pretending. And that meant that I had to face the music: someone was out to get me. I wasn’t safe.
I wasn’t safe to go out on my own anymore. Not to a friend’s party or a coffee shop or my favorite spa. Not even my hairdresser, because even if I could trust those people, there was no guarantee for the people who would also come in. Would I see that same man again? Would he jump out of the shadows or walk up casually in broad daylight?
It was impossible to say, and that terrified me. I wanted to know something at least, but there was no predicting where or when he’d try again, only an assurance that he would.
But when my agent called to remind me about another awards ceremony that night, I knew I couldn’t let my fear rule me anymore. A lot of that was due to my career. If I let this man scare me away from doing my job, I wouldn’t have much of a job for much longer. People were used to eccentric actors and actresses, but they wouldn’t appreciate one they never saw. And the movie industry was all about riding your wave of fame for as long as they could.
All of that was true—and none of it was the real reason I wanted to go to that awards ceremony tonight.
“There are going to be thousands of cameras there,” I argued with Kade, doing my best to convince him that this was a good idea. Even though I wasn’t sure that it was. “No one’s going to try anything crazy. It would be suicide! Why not just call the police up yourself, right?”
Kade shook his head. “The last attack was in broad daylight, Abby. There’s no telling what this guy will do.”
That was true, though I wouldn’t admit it because it would quickly weaken my argument. Switching tactics, I said, “I’ll be surrounded by people. It’ll be
impossible for him to get to me. These things are all about schmoozing. I’ll be so busy talking to reporters and cozying up with bratty starlets that he won’t have the chance to get me alone.”
Kade only folded his arms across his chest, his full lips tugging down into a frown. He looked sexy to me even just standing there, not willing to budge. I’d been trying to convince myself that things weren’t going to happen with us since he’d refused to kiss me in the living room that day. I wouldn’t force myself on someone who didn’t want me. But even as I tried to pull away and resist everything that was him, I couldn’t deny that the pull was still there. As hurt as I was by his constant rejection, I still found myself with the lingering desire to slide into his embrace and kiss him until my lips were bruised and swollen.
“No,” he said simply. “It’s too dangerous.”
I made a frustrated noise and began to pace. I had to go, didn’t he understand that? But no, of course he didn’t. In his mind, this was all about protecting me. That was his job, his only job in the end, and going to an awards ceremony probably seemed like the worst possible idea in the world to him.
But I had to make him understand. This was important. “Kade…” My voice sounded pleading and tired and scared, too small for what I was trying to convince him of.
His rigid stance softened at that voice, however, and his features turned tender instead of stern. “I’m not the bad guy here,” he reminded me softly, quietly.
I nodded, stepping closer to him even though I promised myself I was going to keep some distance between us. “I know. You’re…” I was about to say something stupid like, You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time, but caught myself just in time. “I know you’re not,” I said instead. “But…but there is a bad guy out there and—” I sucked in a quick breath, “—and I need to be stronger than him. I can’t let him dictate my life like this. I can’t let him win. Don’t you understand?”
And I could see this time that he did. I saw it in his dark eyes as they softened beneath my pleas, and then grew determined at my need to stand up to my attacker.
With a defeated sigh, he nodded. “Okay. We’ll go. But we’re doing this right; no chances this time. So you’d better use the bathroom before we go and avoid the damn alcohol.”
I didn’t even argue with him.
***
I dressed to impress tonight. My gown was liquid black, shimmering like waterfalls of crude oil about my body, unforgiving. It put my breasts on display as the neckline dipped low enough that it actually stopped in a V at my natural waist. The straps looked like black guitar strings, interwoven in a grid-like pattern that narrowed as it looped across my shoulder blades in a crisscross and spread out again at my lower back just above my firm rear. It was long enough that it actually dragged on the floor in the back, even with the five-inch heels—Kade’s only concession to my demands beyond letting me go tonight—and if it weren’t for the slit that went to my upper thigh, I probably would have tripped at some point.
I looked like some dark underworld goddess, and I did my makeup and hair to match it. I wove black lace through my hair and smeared my eyes until they looked like deep, dark smoke, making my blue orbs pop out more than ever.
Kade walked just behind me, close enough that he would likely be in the pictures, but not so close that people would assume we were a couple.
Unfortunately, I found myself thinking errantly.
We walked the red carpet and cameras flashed from every angle. I stopped to autograph pictures of me and to take pictures with fans who were screaming along the sidelines, even though it sent my heart racing and made my palms sweaty.
They’re fans, this is important, I had to remind myself through it all even though I was terrified.
Finally, we made it into the lobby where the fans at least weren’t trying to storm the gates to get to me. I did as I was told and avoided the champagne, but I nibbled lightly at several of the snacks and chatted with other actors and actresses until the actual awards ceremony started. I gave at least five impromptu interviews and hoped they wouldn’t be taken out of context too badly, and at least one of them asked about Kade.
“Is this your latest beau?” the female reporter asked.
My heart quickened, but I played it off easily. I laughed and leaned toward her conspiratorially to tell her in a stage whisper, “He is gorgeous, isn’t he?”
The reporter laughed with me and the interview ended without any definitive answer one way or the other. Not that it mattered. It would be splashed across the pages in the morning with theories about who he was and how we were involved. I couldn’t make myself care.
I won the award that night and gave a short little speech about how it was so important to me, how it was life changing, and about how grateful I was to have been given the opportunities I’d been given.
Like I hadn’t worked my ass off to get there.
When I walked off stage, one of the staff called me over. “Ma’am,” he said, whispering quickly into my ear. “You have a call. You may take it in the back.”
I thanked him, then turned to find Kade. He was watching me like a hawk, his dark eyes smoldering. I motioned with my head that I was going somewhere else, and he got up immediately, coming over to me in long strides. I went to the back to take the call; Kade hung back only a little, close enough to get to me, but far enough to give me some semblance of privacy.
He was getting good at the bodyguard thing.
When I answered the phone, I expected that it would be my agent or someone who hadn’t gotten my temporary number yet, but wanted to congratulate me. But as I answered, I heard the voice that sent chills down my spine and gave me nightmares.
“If you don’t start doing as you’re told, I’ll have to hurt someone else, too. And the next someone won’t be as lucky as your friend.”
“What?” I demanded, about to ask what he was talking about, demand who was hurt, but the line went dead before I got the chance. I turned to Kade with wide, desperate eyes and said, “Oh my god.”
I made Kade drive me to April’s. She was the only person I had ever truly considered a friend and I knew in my heart she was who he was talking about. I told myself over and over again that she was fine, she was alright, but I didn’t believe it, not even as I ran up the steps to her modest little house and banged on the door.
The door that easily opened with the first knock.
I swallowed heavily, shaking, terrified of going inside. But I had to because April was in there. I was about to rush in, calling out “April!” but Kade grabbed me by the shoulders.
“No! I go in first. You wait in the car and call the damn police,” he ordered, then rushed into the house.
But I didn’t go back to the car. Instead, I hurried in after him, terrified that all I was going to find of my friend was a body. She’s alive, she’s alive, I told myself over and over again. But until I saw her crying on the floor with her back pressed to the bed, I didn’t believe it.
“April!” I cried, rushing over to her.
Kade, who only just realized I was behind him, cursed, but didn’t stop me as I wrapped April up in my arms. She sobbed heavily into my shoulder as I stroked her hair. She was a mess. Her hair was tangled and her face was peppered with angry, swollen bruises. One eye was sealed shut and her lip was busted open, blood half dried on her chin and the corner of her mouth. And the rest of her looked about the same. Bruises on her arms and her legs, probably her stomach, too, though I couldn’t see that. She was shaking like a leaf, clearly terrified, and was muttering incoherently about a man attacking her.
I looked over at Kade finally, his face taut with anger. “We need to get you to the hospital,” he said. And in that moment, tears in my eyes, fear in my heart, I was incredibly relieved that he was here.
He called an ambulance and they drove her away to the hospital, assuring us that, though banged up, she would be fine.
***
I’d spent most o
f the night with April, until they finally kicked us out. I didn’t want to go home and leave her, but the nurses insisted that she needed her rest. Kade told me that I did, too. But when we got home to that big empty house, I couldn’t sleep. I knew it without even trying.
“It’s my fault,” I told Kade in a tiny whisper as he walked me to my room. I was still wearing the gown from the awards ceremony and, it made me feel like I was a little girl playing dress up.
In two long strides, he was right behind me, his large hands automatically going to my shoulders. He gripped them firmly and I shuddered at the roughness of them. “It’s not,” he told me, conviction laced in his voice. “It’s not your fault, Abby. Don’t you ever believe that.”
I bit my lip to keep from arguing with him, because I truly did think it was—but I wanted to believe him. Desperately, I wanted to.
