Famous

by Marie Force

  At first, I turned him down. Then he ratted me out to my mother, Graciela, who also helped to raise Hayden while she worked as his father’s housekeeper. Once she got ahold of me, I had no choice but to take Hayden’s job offer or risk my mother’s hot Mexican temper. My madre is a doll, but you don’t ever want to piss her off. Hayden and I learned that lesson early on.

  I took the fucking job, in which Hayden basically made me his bitch on the West Virginia location of his first film. Going from the mean streets of LA to the rolling hills of West Virginia was a shock to my system, to say the least, and I hated the job with a passion, almost as much as I hated him for tattling on me.

  I grunt out a laugh as I think about how young and stupid I was. Of course I couldn’t have known then that Hayden would grow up to be one of the hottest and most celebrated directors of our time. Back then, he was just the son of washed-up stars trying to make his mark on an unforgiving business, and he’d made up his mind to bring me along with him, kicking and screaming.

  Thank God for Hayden. Without him, I’d probably be dead or in prison. I was heading nowhere fast when he intervened, and as much as I resented him for it at the time, now I have nothing but the kind of gratitude that comes with age and maturity.

  I have that same thought just about every day as I drive from my condo outside Malibu to the Quantum office building that houses the exclusive club I manage on behalf of the partners. Though I’m not in any way as successful as they are, they never treat me like anything other than a full-fledged member of their family, and for that, I count myself as one of the luckiest guys who’s ever lived.

  There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for any of them—or their partners. Watching them fall in love, one right after the other, has been incredible. First Flynn met Natalie, then Hayden finally admitted he’d been in love with Addison for years—duh, we all knew that—and then Jasper and Ellie decided to make a baby together. Aileen and her kids moved to LA to live closer to Kristian, and now they’re one big happy family. The one that surprised me the most, though, was Quantum’s chief legal counsel, Emmett, falling for Marlowe’s sassy, mouthy assistant, Leah. Got to admit, I didn’t see that one coming, but the two of them are as happy as two pigs in shit, and all they do is laugh.

  The only one of us besides me who’s still single is Marlowe, and she’s face-first into something with the prissy Frenchman. Can’t stand that guy. None of us can. He’s fucking pretentious and has a stick jammed so far up his ass that I’m surprised you can’t see it when he opens his mouth. He’s no fun to be around, that’s for sure, and I suspect he’s got a dark side, not that I have proof of that. Just a sixth sense I have from my years of running the streets, which is something I’ve kept to myself. I can’t go around accusing the guy of something without proof, but I keep my eye on him.

  Flynn and Hayden can barely stand to be in the same room with him, but they try to pretend otherwise for Marlowe’s sake. For all his formidable acting skills, Flynn sucks at hiding his disdain for the Frenchman.

  Marlowe doesn’t seem to care what they think, which I find somewhat remarkable. The group of them are tight, and it’s unusual for them to be so far out of sync with each other. Love does funny things to people. I reminded Flynn of that over Christmas, when we were stuck in Utah for a few days due to a blizzard. I pointed out that he was so intent on marrying Natalie last year that he hadn’t wanted anyone telling him he needed a prenup. None of us could believe he’d marry anyone—even a sweetheart like Nat—without protecting his sizable fortune.

  Flynn conceded the point, but he said his and Nat’s relationship had nothing in common with Marlowe and Rafe’s. I didn’t disagree with him or point out that Marlowe feels for Rafe the same thing he does for Nat. Although how she feels that way about him is hard to fathom. But who am I to tell someone else how they should feel? That’s so not my style. I’m a live-and-let-live kind of guy, and as such, I keep my opinions to myself, even when I see my friend making a questionable decision.

  She’s a grown-ass woman who clawed her way to the top of her profession. She doesn’t need me or anyone else telling her how to live her life. If, however, she were to look my way for once, I might be tempted to… No, forget I said that. It’s never going to happen, and I gave up on that possibility years ago.

  Like I said, love makes fools of people, which is one reason why I’ve studiously avoided the kind of commitments my friends have been making lately. The thought of being shackled to one woman for life, even the most spectacular woman I’ve ever known, makes me break out in hives. Variety is truly the spice of life, and through my role as the manager of the club, I have a regular buffet of variety laid out before me on a nightly basis. I’d be crazy to give that up to have one woman in my bed forever.

  No, thank you. Monogamy is not for me. Don’t get me wrong. I’m thrilled for my friends. I can see how happy they are with their partners and how excited they are about a future that includes kids for most of them.

  I shudder at the thought of bringing kids into this fucked-up world. I barely knew my own father when I was growing up and had Hayden’s disaster of a father around to give me a front-row example of what not to do. I’ve spent a lot of time in the company of Flynn’s dad, Max Godfrey, and have benefitted from the fatherly wisdom he hands out to anyone who needs it, but it’s not like I pretend that’s enough to make me worthy of being anyone’s father.

  Why am I even thinking about things that’re never going to happen? I ask myself that question as I take a right turn into the Quantum parking lot, where I see that, for once, I’m not the first one to arrive on a Monday morning. Marlowe’s white Bentley is the only car in the lot, although she’s the last person I’d expect to see there at seven o’clock on a Monday. Marlowe jokes about needing her beauty sleep, and we rarely hear from her before ten when we’re on vacation together.

  She texted me yesterday that she was planning a private party and wanted to let me know she’d be using the club. I reminded her that she owns the joint and doesn’t need my permission to use her own club. What’s she doing here so early? Maybe she went home with Rafe.

  I park my black Ford F-150 next to her Bentley and head toward the main door. When I insert my key, I’m shocked to find the main door unlocked. Marlowe wouldn’t forget to lock up, or was she so caught up in her douche of a boyfriend that she overlooked basic security? If so, I’ll need to remind her. Flynn and Hayden would lose their collective shit if they knew the door was unlocked all night. They’re freaks about security, and with good reason.

  None of us will ever get over Flynn being stabbed on a rope line in London a couple of years ago. People are crazy, especially when it comes to celebrities of any kind, and after the incident in London, Flynn and Hayden ramped up security big-time.

  I place my palm on the scanner to summon the elevator to the basement. While I wait, I dash off a text to Marlowe. You left the door unlocked last night. I note that the text was delivered as I step onto the elevator.

  In the downstairs lobby, I walk through the double doors into the club, where the lights are on. What the fuck? Was she so swept off her feet that she couldn’t even turn off the lights?

  I cringe at that possibility and then freeze when I see the door to the dungeon is open. There’s no way in hell Marlowe would ever leave that door open—or the main door unlocked, for that matter.

  I start running before I’m even aware of what I’m doing. Adrenaline pumps through me as I cross the expansive main room of the club and dash through the door that leads down one more level, to the private area available only to the Quantum principals. I pound down the stairs and stop short at the sight of horror. That’s the only word to describe it, and even that may not be adequate.

  Marlowe, beaten and bloody, suspended from the ceiling in ropes tied in such a way that if she so much as breathes too deeply, she’ll be strangled, if she hasn’t been already. I can’t tell at first if she’s alive. Her chest doesn’t appear to move, but I
can’t be certain with the way she’s trussed up.

  “Oh my God,” I whisper as I move toward her, fear pounding through me and making me lightheaded. I’m going to kill that son of a bitch, and after he’s dead, I’m going to kill him again.

  My mouth is dry and my hands are shaking as I try to decide what I should do first—free her from the ropes or call for help. “Marlowe. Sweetheart…” Tears fill my eyes, and my heart beats so fast, I have to force myself to breathe so I don’t pass out or break down. She needs me to keep it together.

  I sweep my fingers over her forehead, noting she has a big bruise on her left cheek. “Marlowe.”

  Her low moan is the best sound I’ve ever heard.

  She’s not dead.

  “Let me get some help.”

  “No.” The word is softly spoken but emphatic.

  “Marlowe, you’re seriously hurt.”

  “No police.”

  With fumbling fingers, I untie the knot around her neck and then, cradling her in my arms, I use my free hand to work on the other knots holding her suspended. It takes much longer than it should, but I finally release the last of the knots and gather her naked, battered body into my arms.

  She trembles so violently, I fear she might be having a seizure.

  “You gotta let me call someone, Mo. Please. I’m way outta my league here.”

  “Call Addie.” Marlowe grits her teeth and sucks in a breath before whimpering. “She’ll get help. N-no cops or hospitals.” Her fingers dig into my arm. “Please, Seb.”

  “Okay, honey. No cops or hospitals.” I take her to sit on one of the sofas and grab a blanket from a basket on the floor, gently putting it over her before withdrawing my phone and calling Addie.

  “Hey,” she says, chipper as always. “What’s up?”

  “Where are you?”

  “Just got to the office, why?”

  “Come down to the club. By yourself. And hurry, Addie. It’s an emergency.”

  “I’m coming.”

  While we wait for her, I hold Marlowe’s trembling body as close to me as I dare, fearful of adding in any way to her pain. “Did he do this to you, love?”

  She doesn’t reply, which says it all. I’m going to kill him, and I’m going to enjoy it. I’m going to do exactly what he did to her first, every last thing. When Flynn and Hayden hear about this…

  “Don’t.”

  The single word is filled with pain, so much I can barely stand it.

  “Whatever you’re thinking, just don’t.” Each word seems to cost her.

  “Shhh, just breathe, sweetheart.”

  I hear Addie calling for me upstairs.

  “Down here.”

  Her heels click on the stairs as she comes down quickly. “What’s wrong, Sebastian?”

  “Over here.”

  She walks across the room, unable to make out much in the low lighting until she sees the distinctive color of Marlowe’s hair and gasps. “What happened?”

  “She was beaten and left suspended from the ropes all night.”

  “Did you call for rescue?”

  “No.” Marlowe keeps her eyes closed. “No rescue. No press.”

  “She told me to call you. She said you’d know what to do.”

  “Marlowe.” Addie bites back her shock and dismay to take charge. “What hurts?”

  “Everything.”

  “Do you have broken bones?”

  “Don’t know.”

  Addie looks up at me. “We need to be very careful with her until we know that for sure.” She caresses Marlowe’s hair. “Can I call Dr. Breslow to come see you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Let’s get her upstairs to one of the private rooms.” I can hear how upset and worried she is with every word she says. Marlowe is one of Addie’s closest friends.

  I’m trembling like a newborn, but I hold Marlowe close to me as I stand to walk upstairs.

  She cries out in pain that guts me. I hope that son of a bitch is on the run, because I want to track him down and make him pay for what he’s done to her. I want to make him hurt the same way she does.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

  “Not your fault.” Her words are garbled.

  Not once, in all my life, have I ever wanted to actually murder someone the way I do now. I can’t imagine how Flynn and Hayden will feel. They go all the way back with Marlowe, the three of them as close as siblings. Following Addie, I carry Marlowe up two flights of stairs to one of the private rooms. I’m thankful for the cleaning team that was here over the weekend, leaving the room smelling like lemons and fabric softener.

  Addie pulls the quilt and sheet down and makes a pile of the pillows.

  I place Marlowe, carefully, on the bed and get my first look at the bruises on her torso.

  Sucking in a deep breath to calm myself, I glance at Addie, whose face has gone white with shock. “Call the doc, Addie.”

  She shakes off the horror and pulls out the iPhone that runs her life—and Flynn’s.

  I gently place the covers over Marlowe, sit on the edge of the bed and brush the hair back from her face. “What do you need?”

  “Advil.”

  “Besides that.”

  “Water.”

  “I’ll get it.”

  She stops me when I would’ve gotten up. “Seb.”

  “What, honey?”

  “Don’t tell Flynn or Hayden. They’ll kill him.”

  “They won’t kill him. He’ll already be dead if he comes near me—or you.”

  Her eyes fill with tears that break me. “Please.”

  I can’t bear to see our strong, powerful Marlowe hurt this way. I want to go outside and howl from the rage that grips me. “I won’t tell them.”

  “She’s on her way,” Addie reports when she ends the call with the doctor. She sits gingerly on the other side of the bed and places her hand on top of Marlowe’s.

  “I’m going to get her some water.” I leave the room and rush downstairs to the bar, where I pour her a tall glass of ice water. It’s been years since I’ve felt the way I do now—out of control, enraged, thirsty for vengeance. I love every member of the Quantum family as much as I love my own mother.

  But Marlowe… I love her like I’ve never loved anyone, and I’m the only one in the entire world who knows that.

  Chapter 3

  Everything hurts, and I’m so cold, I can’t stop shaking.

  Addie puts another blanket over me and bathes my face with a warm washcloth that feels heavenly.

  “Mad at myself.”

  “Don’t you dare go there. This is not your fault.”

  Her fierce words bring new tears to my eyes. “Should’ve listened to the guys. They didn’t trust him.”

  “It’s not your fault, Marlowe.”

  “How is it not my fault? I put myself in a dangerous situation.”

  She feeds me a sip from the water Sebastian brought. “Had he ever given you reason to fear him before this?”

  The cool water feels like heaven to my parched throat. “Once, but… I should’ve known better.”

  “Stop it, Marlowe. You did nothing wrong.”

  “I fell for the wrong guy.”

  She runs the washcloth over my face, mopping up my tears. “I’ll give you that, but not the rest. That’s on him. He did this. Not you.”

  “Flynn and Hayden will kill him.”

  “I want to kill him.”

  “I don’t want anyone to know.”

  “Shhh, don’t worry about anything. We’ll take care of you. You know that.”

  I close my eyes and force myself to focus on breathing through the pain. Just breathe. That’s always been my mantra when things get to be too much for me, and I’m hoping it’ll help now. I must’ve dozed off, because I awake suddenly to realize Dr. Breslow has arrived.

  “We’ll be right outside,” Addie says as she and Sebastian leave the room.

  “Tell me what happened,” Breslow says without pream
ble. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and her blue eyes are filled with concern. It occurs to me that we’ve let her into the club without an NDA. I almost laugh from the foolishness of such a thought. What does that matter now?

  “I brought my boyfriend to our sex club, and he freaked out when he realized I’m a Domme. He beat the shit out of me and left me hanging in the ropes overnight.”

  If I’ve shocked her, she does a good job of hiding it from me. “I’d like to have you transported to the ER.”

  “No. If we do that, it’ll be all over the internet that Marlowe Sloane was beaten up by her boyfriend at a sex club.”

  “You may have internal injuries, and there’s no way for me to know that without X-rays.”

  “No hospital.”

  She sighs with resignation when she seems to get that I’m not going to change my mind. “You can’t let him get away with this, Marlowe.”

  “He’s probably halfway to France by now, and in the time it would take to extradite him for a trial, the internet would be on fire with my business.”

  Her mouth sets with displeasure, but she doesn’t pursue it further. For that, I’m thankful. “I need to examine you.”

  “Go ahead.”

  She pulls down the covers that were tucked around my shoulders and, like Addie did, she gasps when she sees the extent of my injuries. “Marlowe…”

  “I’m okay.”

  “You’re not okay. You’re badly hurt.”

  “I just need to rest. Please… Just do what you’ve got to do, give me something for the pain, and if it gets any worse, I’ll go to the ER. I promise.”

  Breslow carefully examines my arms, ribs and abdomen while I bite back shrieks from the pain of even the lightest touch. She asks if I can sit up so she can look at my back.

  “He used a whip on you?” She sounds like she’s trying not to cry.

  Biting my lip, I nod. I blacked out during that part of the assault, but the pain is the worst there.