CHASED (A Standalone Billionaire Romance Novel)

by Kristina Weaver

Sasha stood, but she felt light-headed. “I never wanted this. I never wanted any of this.”

  She noticed that people in her office were turning round and staring—people who never said good morning or even thanked her when she’d brought them their coffees. Suddenly, people gave a crap about her, and all because she’d been the victim of Thomas Lloyd’s sick plot.

  “Can I take the rest of the morning off?” she said breathlessly, feeling sick.

  “Darling, you can take the year off. All we need now is your name. Oh, and your article, don’t worry about that. I’ll get one of the others to write it. ‘How Hollywood’s Sex Pest Duped Me into Bed.’ Something along those lines. You go home and rest up. I’ll have someone in the marketing team add you to the permanent staff part of our website.” Kelly beamed as she sauntered away.

  Her head pounding, Sasha packed up her stuff quickly and slung her satchel over her shoulder. The ground felt like foam beneath her feet. As she bustled down the aisle, Alicia gave her a dirty look, then stepped forward blocking her path.

  “Well played,” she said coldly.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Sex tape scandal. Wish I’d thought of that when I had the opportunity. So how’d you do it? Put your iPhone behind the kettle? Resting on the toaster?”

  “You think I leaked my own sex tape?”

  Alicia frowned. “But if you didn’t, then that must mean…Oh no!” She feigned shock. “He filmed you without your consent.” She tapped her chin in faux contemplation. “But why would he do that? Because he has a new film coming out?” She shook her head over dramatically. “The levels of depravity these actors will sink to for self-promotion. On one hand, you’ve got to give it to him. It was diabolical scheming on his part. He must have been thrilled when an unknown intern showed up to interview him. My name was already smeared thanks to the article I wrote. But you, you’re a journalist virgin. As pure as the cold driven snow.”

  Sasha racked her brains. What was it that Thomas had said under his breath when he realized they’d sent the intern? That it was a miracle? Could that have been what he meant, that sending the intern had given him the opportunity to create a paper-selling, sensationalistic story?

  But what about the beautiful moment they’d shared last night? They’d let so much of themselves out to one another. There’d been trust and true affection.

  Alicia reached out and rubbed Sasha’s arm, feigning concern again. “Oh Sash, you didn’t think there was something special between you, did you? He didn’t pull his whole mommy and daddy burned to death routine?” She squeezed Sasha’s arm tightly. “You poor thing.”

  Sasha wanted to throw up. How could an evening that ended in bliss have given way to such a horrible new day?

  She pushed past Alicia and bolted for the door.

  Out on the street, the cold air slapped her. She drank it in, letting it quell her panic. There was a billboard just outside her office. It was advertising Thomas’s new movie.

  Sasha stared up at his face and realized this was going to haunt her forever.

  Chapter Seven

  Sasha woke the next morning on her sofa, feeling dazed. She had very little memory of getting back to her flat, but she did remember double locking all the doors and shutting all the curtains. And she remembered whiling away the rest of the evening curled up on the sofa, her whole body trembling as she sifted through the media reports and images. Then came the snowballing messages from friends and strangers alike; her phone constantly pinging and ringing as more and more people caught up with the news story and tried to get in touch. Suddenly, she had messages from people who hadn’t bothered speaking to her since the first year of college, all trying to get a piece of her.

  The one that made her heart ache the most, though, was from her mother. It read simply: I think you should come home.

  One person had rung more than anyone. Thomas. Sasha couldn’t fathom why. What was there possibly left to talk about? Unless he was just going to use his smooth talking to make sure she didn’t press charges?

  She didn’t know what to do. All she knew was that she hated him. Despised him. Because of him, her life had descended from ecstasy to a nightmare in less than twenty-four hours. She never wanted to hear the name Thomas Lloyd again.

  Just then, she heard a knock.

  She pulled herself to standing and opened the front door. When she saw who was standing there, she staggered back in surprise. It was Chris.

  “Hi,” he said shyly.

  “What are you doing here?” Sasha stammered.

  He looked awkwardly at his feet. “I’m sure you can work it out, Sash.”

  The tape. Of course. Why else would Chris appear on her doorstep after so many months?

  There was a blush rising up his neck.

  So he’s watched it then, Sasha thought. Aloud she said, “You’d better come in.”

  As Chris entered the flat, she noticed he was carrying a suitcase.

  “You planning on staying?”

  “This isn’t for me,” Chris replied. “It’s for you. For your clothes. Your mom wants me to bring you home.”

  Sasha’s heart ached. She directed Chris into the living room, and they sat together on the couch.

  “You must think I’m such an idiot,” Sasha said, as he lowered himself beside her.

  He shook his head and clasped her hands. “Not at all. He’s an actor. It’s his job to manipulate people. I just don’t understand how it happened.”

  Sasha could read between the lines. What Chris was really saying was, ‘How could Thomas Lloyd sleep with someone like you?’ She didn’t understand it herself. Because she was gullible enough to fall for it? Because she was easy prey? Because every other woman he’d slept with hadn’t been dumb enough to get themselves caught on camera?

  “I don’t know,” Sasha replied, mournfully.

  “You understand that he abused you,” Chris said. “That sex tape is a crime.”

  Sasha wasn’t in the mood for his condescension. “Yes. I know.”

  “Will you press charges?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Chris squeezed her hands. “Sash. Please come back home. The journalism thing just wasn’t meant to be.”

  Her chest ached, as she looked down at Chris’s hands. Things had been good with him, hadn’t they? They had definitely been simple. Easy. He’d adored her.

  So when Chris moved his head towards her, she didn’t move away. His kiss was soft, tender, and familiar. She let him kiss her, her lips going through the motions, her body feeling nothing. He wasn’t Thomas. No one ever would be.

  But he could make her happy in other ways.

  When he pulled back, there was a dreamy look in his eyes. “Let me take you home, Sash.”

  After a long pause, she nodded. Chris was right. Getting out of Chicago would be the best thing. She could go home to her mom’s and rest until the whole thing had blown over, if it ever could.

  Chris breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ll go and pack for you.”

  He squeezed her hand and left the living room.

  Sasha sat on the sofa in something of a trance. She’d become the helpless damsel she was always so terrified to be. She had let Thomas use her, then let Chris come in and save the day. When had she become such a sap?

  Suddenly, there was a commotion outside. She could hear people shouting. “Thomas! Thomas over here!”

  Her stomach clenched. She stood and opened the curtains to be confronted with the sight of the paparazzi filing down her street in pursuit of Thomas. His beautiful face was contorted with anguish. As soon as the paps noticed her peering from the window, camera lights began flashing. She ducked back out of view, her heart racing.

  What is he doing here?

  She heard him knock at the door.

  “Sasha,” he called. “We need to talk. Please.”

  She went to the door and pressed her eye to the peep hole. The paps were going crazy, taking photo after photo
of the scene like hungry vultures pecking at a carcass.

  “Go away. You’re causing a scene. Or is that the point?”

  Thomas looked crestfallen. “You think I want any of this?”

  “I don’t know what to think, but I’m pretty sure you don’t hate it. In fact, I’d go as far as to say you thrive off it. You took that photo in the restaurant yourself, didn’t you?”

  “No! Sasha, this is what the media is like. This is what they do. They take something and twist it and blow it all out of proportion. For all I know, Alicia could have planted that bloody fake camera last time she—”

  “You took Alicia to your house?”

  Thomas snapped his mouth shut.

  “You said she didn’t mean anything to you,” Sasha stammered. “But you still took her to your house?”

  “That isn’t the point. I didn’t do it. I didn’t trick you.”

  “If it wasn’t you, then who was it? Your servant? Oh wait, you’re too fucking humble for one of them.”

  “You have to believe me.”

  “Why should I believe anything you say?

  “Because there’s another video! Taken in the bedroom. You know I would never….”

  The scars. Thomas would never show the world his scars, never in a million years.

  “Sasha, someone’s out to get us,” he added. “Someone’s doing this to drive us apart. I don’t know how it happened, but you have to believe me.”

  Sasha pulled her phone out of her pocket. It took her less than a minute to find proof that what Thomas was saying was real. There was the second sex tape. Accompanying it were a thousand cruel articles about Thomas, calling him Quasimodo, The Elephant Man…

  Sasha opened the door. Thomas tumbled in. Then she slammed it shut, blocking out the paparazzi.

  Thomas swept her into his arms and pressed his mouth against hers.

  “God I’ve missed you,” he said. “Please know I would never do anything to hurt you.”

  Sasha’s breath was ragged. “But who did it? Who would do this to you?”

  A sudden moment of recognition sparked in Thomas’s eyes. He looked at her and said simply, “Crystal.”

  Sasha gasped. “Of course,” she said under her breath.

  Crystal seemed to know her brother’s every whereabouts. If she’d found him in the hotel during his interviews was it so far-fetched to think she’d tipped off the media about his presence at the restaurant? Two hundred dollars for a photo, Thomas had said. Pretty tempting for a junky. And she must have been on her way in to get her secretly planted cameras when she’d bumped into her yesterday morning.

  “Now do you believe me?” Thomas said exasperated. He took Sasha’s hands in his and squeezed them.

  “Yes.”

  Just then the stairs creaked. Chris had appeared on the landing, a suitcase in either hand. “Ready?” he said.

  Thomas looked up. His face blanched. Sasha’s stomach plummeted to her feet, as the only two men she’d ever had sex with stood staring at her.

  Chapter Eight

  “Well this is awkward.”

  Thomas Lloyd lent his back against the wall. With his expensive suit and perfectly coiffed hair, the English actor looked completely out of place in Sasha’s shabby hallway. Meanwhile, Chris, her high school sweetheart, stood at the top of the staircase, wearing a devastated expression.

  Sasha looked from one man to the other, from the man she’d once loved to the man who had made her feel things she never knew she could. They couldn’t have been more different.

  Just moments earlier, she’d told Chris she would leave Chicago with him, go back to her mother’s home and escape the media circus that her leaked sex tape with Thomas had created. But then Thomas had turned up on her door step and she’d learned that he hadn’t leaked the tape for publicity at all, but that his junky sister had done it for money.

  Now everything had changed.

  The paps started banging on the door and calling out Thomas’s name. He hardly seemed to notice. His gaze was fixed on Chris.

  “This is the ex boyfriend, I presume,” he said coolly in his suave English accent.

  The actor himself needed no introduction. He was one of the most recognized faces in America.

  “What is he doing here?” Chris demanded.

  Sasha opened her mouth then closed it again. What could she possibly say to Chris to explain why the man she’d accused of committing a sex crime was now standing in her hallway?

  “I’d like to know the same thing,” Thomas said. His voice had become cold in a way that gave Sasha goose pimples.

  “Let’s go to the kitchen,” she said.

  “What a lovely idea,” Thomas said sarcastically. “We can have a nice cup of tea.”

  The paps began banging on the door again, calling out Thomas’s name.

  “We can’t stand here,” Sasha said, flinching at the pounding sound. She looked at Chris. “I need to talk to Thomas. Can you give us a moment?”

  Chris frowned. “Have you lost your mind, Sash?”

  “It’s not what you think,” she replied. “Things have changed.”

  “In the ten minutes it took me to pack your bags?”

  Thomas winced at Chris’s words.

  “Yes!” Sasha cried. She was becoming exasperated. “Please, just give us space to talk.”

  With a thunderous expression, Chris dumped his hold all on the top step and retreated back from the direction he’d just come.

  “What a charming oaf,” Thomas said wryly. “I must admit I didn’t think high school quarterback would be your type.”

  “I didn’t think Alicia would be yours,” Sasha snapped in reply.

  “Touche.”

  Sasha guided Thomas into the kitchen. At the very least, the kitchen dampened out the sound of the paparazzi on her doorstep. But having the stunning actor in her tiny, rundown kitchen made everything even more surreal. She’d never belonged in Thomas’s world and seeing him in hers made it clear how badly suited they were. Why did he even care what she thought of him? Why had he even bothered coming here? Yes, they’d had some incredible sex and shared some intimate moments but the actor wasn’t exactly in short supply of willing women wanting to do the same...

  Thomas perched against the work surface. An image of him licking her out on the worktop in his own kitchen popped into Sasha’s mind. But rather than the view point she’d been in when he had been bringing her to the point of ecstasy, she saw it from the perspective of the leaked sex tape, from the position of the voyeur. The memory of one of the most amazing experiences of her life has been ruined by Crystal’s cruel actions.

  “You moved on quickly,” Thomas said, picking up an apple from her fruit bowl and tossing it into the air carelessly.

  “It’s not like that,” she argued. But guilt bit at her. They had kissed, she and Chris. Or at least, he’d kissed her. She’d hardly reciprocated and though that didn’t exactly make it better, it still wasn’t what Thomas thought. They hadn’t slept together. She hadn’t cheated on him. “I know how it looks but we didn’t do anything. Chris… he just came to help.”

  “You were leaving with him.”

  “Not with him. He was taking me home to my mom’s. I wasn’t running away or anything. I was just going back for a bit until this all blows over.”

  Thomas scoffed. “You think this will blow over? You think the paparazzi won’t find your mother’s house and trace you there? Come on, you’re a journalist, you know how this game works. There’s no running away for either of us.”

  Sasha was taken aback. When Thomas had first arrived, before he’d seen Chris, he’d wanted a reconciliation. He’d wanted Sasha to understand that he hadn’t leaked the tape for publicity. He’d even kissed her. But now he was acting like a different person. Cold. Cruel. Emotionless.

  “Why did you come here, Thomas?” she said, her voice hushed.

  Thomas hesitated. He put the apple back in the fruit bowl. “My intentions don’t m
atter anymore. What matters now is how to proceed.”

  Sasha folded her arms and huffed. “Fine. Then tell me what happens next.”

  “We put on a united front,” Thomas said simply. “We stick together, pretend to be a couple, do all the things the media would expect of us.”

  Sasha frowned. “Such as…?”

  “Go to award shows. Lounge around on private yachts. Dine with celebs.”

  “Thomas, what are you asking me to do?” Sasha said.

  “I’m asking you to play the part of my girlfriend.”

  Sasha steadied herself by gripping the worktop. Was he crazy? “Hollywood’s most eligible bachelor settles down with… an intern?” she said, suggesting the sort of headline that would appear on all the celebrity gossip sites. “Did your publicist suggest this?”

  Thomas glared at her. He spoke in a clipped tone. “The public will look more favourably upon the sex tape scandal if it was sex within a happy relationship rather than a sordid casual fling.”

  Unhappiness gnawed inside of her. It was the first time Thomas had referred to sex with her as casual. Despite her caution, he’d given her the impression that there was more going on than just casual sex, especially after he’d revealed his scars to her and told her about the terrible fire that had caused them.

  “So you’re just here to protect your reputation,” she said sadly.

  “And yours,” he shot back.

  Thomas began pacing across the floor. Sasha mulled over his words. Her reputation… As in her career prospects. The sex tape had left them in tatters. No reputable paper was going to employ someone who couldn’t even make it through an internship at the low-brow Atomic magazine before sleeping with a client.

  “You’ll have to do some interviews about my scars,” Thomas continued. “About how they affect me emotionally. I’ll need to talk about my traumatic experience as a youth.”

  Everything he said was so cold and calculated, so far from the passionate man she’d come to know.

  “Does that mean you… that you don’t feel anything for me?” She couldn’t stop the question from escaping her lips, but regretted it instantly.