High Tide

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High Tide Page 8

by Michelle Mankin


  Snagging the pajama top I had laid out on top of the comforter, I drew it over my head. As it slid into place, my skin tingled and I shivered, wondering what it would be like to have Max’s hands sliding over my skin instead.

  Stop it, Hollie. I gave myself an internal shake. Thoughts like those will keep you awake all night.

  As I grabbed the pajama shorts and pulled them on, my mind betrayed me. Recalling Max tracing my lips, I began to throb. I curled my fingers into my palms, refusing to allow my hands to wander to where that throb was centered.

  I stared at the bed. The sheets’ high thread count and the firm mattress beckoned. But I knew before I took a step toward it that I was destined for yet another restless night.

  Maybe I would get lucky. Maybe thoughts of Max would be more powerful than the other ones. If I was going to toss and turn, I preferred it to be because of him and not my stepfather.

  My cell suddenly rang from the nightstand where I had laid it earlier to charge.

  Reaching for it, I didn’t bother checking the caller ID. This was a brand-new number. No one outside my inner circle had it. “Hello?”

  “Hollie.”

  His voice made my heart stutter. The events the last time I’d heard him speak my name rushed to the front of my mind.

  “Da—” My throat closed as numbing cold and scalding heat washed shame over me. “Samuel.” My chest squeezed so tight, I could barely breathe. “How . . . how did you get this number?”

  “That’s not important.”

  Wasn’t it? Reeling, I scrambled to think who might have given it to him, and stumbled backward toward the bed.

  “You need to stop this charade, my dear.”

  “What charade?” I whispered. The back of my wobbling legs slammed into the mattress. I leaned heavily into it.

  “Pretending to be a victim. The lies you’re telling about me. They hurt, Hollie-doll.”

  “You. Hurt. Me,” I said, a strained pause between each word.

  “We can sally accusations back and forth, but it’s a waste of my time, and that isn’t why I called.”

  “Why?” I swallowed and gripped my cell tighter. “Why call me now?”

  Not because he missed me. Not because he cared. Had my entire childhood been one long extended lie?

  “I returned control of your bank accounts to you. Before your birthday. I didn’t do that out of the goodness of my heart, my dear.”

  I knew he hadn’t. Hart believed Samuel was being proactive because he was afraid. But I knew better. Samuel Lesowski wasn’t afraid of anything.

  “You have your money. You can manage your career from now on, if you like. It matters not to me anymore whether you succeed or fail.”

  “I’m well aware that you have absolutely zero respect or concern for my well-being.”

  My eyes burned. I told myself I didn’t care. That his callousness didn’t sting like acid inside raw wounds, but it did. There remained too much of the little girl who coveted his approval.

  “Call off the lawsuit.”

  “No.” I locked my muscles. The hammer was poised, my head on the anvil. My heart raced, anticipating the force of his blow.

  “You will, Hollie-doll. I expect you to make a public statement tomorrow. Tell everyone you made a mistake. Retract every foul accusation.”

  “Or what?” Defying him made me light-headed. The room spun as I braced.

  “I’m not in the habit of making threats.”

  “I know you’re not.” It was safer to run and hide than to face his wrath.

  “You refuse?”

  I pulled in a shaky breath. “Yes.”

  “You made the wrong choice. I will make your life a living hell. You won’t be able to escape it. Every closed door slammed in your face will be because of me. Every step you take will be an uphill battle. You will writhe, twist, and burn on the spit I will turn over a blazing fire. You will remember this conversation. You’ll beg for my mercy. But you won’t get it.”

  The dial tone tolled in my ear. I dropped my cell as if it were a coal, scalding hot.

  I must have made some plaintive noise in my throat. Before I made it halfway across the room, the door slid back, and Max was there. His eyes widened as he looked at me.

  “Hollie, what the fuck?” He reached me just before my legs went out from under me.

  “Please.” I tried to tell him what I needed, but my mind went blank.

  He lifted me into his arms. “I heard you talking to someone.”

  I was shaking so badly, I couldn’t even manage to get my arms around his neck. My hands slipped, slithering on their way downward over the sculpted smooth contours of his bare chest. As he carried me to the bed, my arms hung limp and useless at my sides.

  “Who was it? Who upset you?” His expression promised scary retribution if I gave him a name.

  “I don’t want you involved.” I shook my head as he sat me down gently. Over the edge of the bed, my feet dangled inches above the floor.

  “Samuel?” Max gathered my cold hands in his warm grip. His eyes narrowed on my face.

  I nodded.

  “He threaten you?”

  “He doesn’t threaten.”

  “Like hell he doesn’t.”

  Max’s voice was hard enough to pierce through the mind-fogging weight bearing down on me. Strangely, it seemed as though he knew from experience how my stepfather operated. But that was impossible. More likely, he just had experience with someone equally as awful.

  “We need to call the authorities. Hart. Olivia.”

  “No.”

  “Hollie,” he said firmly, his blond hair shadowing his piercing blue eyes. “They need to know. This isn’t right.”

  “Not tonight. It’s late. It won’t change anything anyway. He’ll do what he wants to do while the rest of us suffer the consequences. Just stay. Stay with me right now. Hold me.”

  I didn’t even pretend to be strong anymore.

  “Please.”

  It was the best night of my life and the worst.

  Samuel made it the worst.

  Max made it the best. The very best.

  He held me on the bed. I was in my pajamas, and he wore only a charcoal-gray pair of boxer briefs. But there was nothing sexual about the embrace, and he didn’t push me to talk. He was just there for me when I needed someone the most.

  With my cheek resting against his hard chest, he cradled me in the crook of his arm and stroked my back until my troubled thoughts finally settled. His heartbeat a metronome in my ear, I eventually drifted off.

  • • •

  I woke to light streaming in my window, and the same steady beat in my ear. My lips lifted as I realized Max still held me.

  My protector. My comforter. My possibility.

  In his strong arms, I’d slept restfully until the morning. It had been a long time since that had happened. Since that night in the library, certainly.

  “You awake?” His voice vibrated in his chest and rumbled into my ear.

  “Yes.” I lifted my head to find him watching me, his brow creased in thoughtful concern. “Did you sleep any?”

  “Don’t worry about me.”

  “You didn’t.” I frowned at his non-answer. “I shouldn’t have asked you to stay.”

  “It was an honor to guard you when your defenses were down.” His eyes were twin searchlights, casting me in a warm blue glow. “Best night of my life holding you.”

  I couldn’t fathom it, but searching his gaze, I found no hint of a lie. “Same for me. I slept soundly and peacefully being held by you.”

  Max nodded as if I’d confirmed something he already knew. “You went out around midnight and stayed out.”

  “You should have gone to your own bed to sleep.”

  “I didn’t want to wake you. I can hear you in here, shug. More than just the restlessness. You cry out.” He shook his head. “If I can help you in any way, I’m going to do it. You just need to ask.”

  “You’re
too good to me.”

  “Don’t put me on some pedestal. It’s not all benevolence on my part.”

  His hand resumed the gentle stroking that had sent me off to sleep. This morning it felt more like a caress. My body tightened, awakening beneath his hand.

  “Your hair’s silk,” he said softly. “Your skin’s satin. Your body is warmth and curves. You feel like an unimaginable dream in my arms.”

  “More like a nightmare. I bet you’re tired, and your arms are sore.”

  “Sometimes in giving, you get the greater gift.”

  “Oh, Max.” His words chased away my reservations. Why be anything but honest with him? “Keep saying things like that, and you’re going to end up with me clinging to you.”

  “Promise?” His eyes danced to his teasing tune.

  “You must not realize what you’re getting into with me.”

  Didn’t he see how much baggage I had? How desperate I was for someone to help me carry it? Desperation could easily become annoying.

  “I know enough. That a little shoulder soreness pales in comparison with the privilege of being able to watch you while you sleep. You have the face of an angel and the body of a siren. Protecting you gives my life a purpose I can be proud of.”

  “Okay. Fair warning, I’m going to cling.”

  I dropped my cheek to his chest, threaded my arms around his rock-hard waist, and clung.

  Inhaling his sandalwood-and-lemon scent, I became dizzy on the feel and the heat of him. I was tempted to throw all caution away.

  It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him everything. How accustomed I was to falling short of expectations, and why. How deeply Samuel’s words had cut into my self-esteem over the years. How no one had ever gotten as close to me as Max had. How no man had ever said anything like he had.

  But I was afraid. After years of criticism, I couldn’t shake the belief that maybe Samuel was right about me.

  “Hollie.” Max shifted me so I was on top of him. “Come here.”

  He groaned low in his throat as he drew me up over him by my upper arms. I felt him, every thick, hard inch of him against my belly first, then right where I pulsed with longing.

  “I want to . . .” His eyes blazed his intent.

  “I want it too.” My expression probably told him everything, but knowing Max, he would need the confirmation of my words.

  A knock sounded on the outer door to the suite, followed closely by a whirring sound as a keycard was inserted. Wide-eyed, we both scrambled off the bed and away from each other.

  “Hello,” Olivia called out as she entered the bedroom. When her gaze found us, standing guiltily beside the rumpled bed, her brows rose. “Hmph.”

  She clucked disapprovingly, reading the situation in a glance. Me in my pajamas, wearing a warm blush on my cheeks. Max standing beside me in nothing but his boxer briefs.

  “Mr. Cash.” She stepped farther into the bedroom. “Could you grab some clothes in the other room and excuse me and my client for a moment? I’d like to have a few words with her in private.”

  “How long have you been sleeping with him?” Olivia asked, leaning forward from the cushion on the couch that seemed to be her spot.

  “I’m not sleeping with him.” I squirmed on the club chair that seemed to be my preferred place but felt like a hot seat again. “I mean, I’m not having sex with him.”

  I turned my gaze to the entrance to the suite. Shirt untucked, khakis hastily drawn on, Max was out in the hallway, giving Olivia and me the privacy she’d requested.

  “I’m not judging you, or him.” She narrowed her gaze.

  I don’t think she believed me. Moments like this made me question acting as a career choice.

  “You’ve been through a lot,” she said. “He’s a strong, comforting presence. You’re here together day and night. I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”

  “He’s my employee. I’m underage. He doesn’t want anyone to know anything until we resolve those issues.”

  “I’m glad to hear that, because now’s not a good time for anything to come out that could potentially portray you in an unfavorable light.”

  “Why?” I remembered Samuel’s warning. “What’s happened?”

  “A lot.”

  She frowned, and my stomach swirled with anxiety as she opened and dug into her large shoulder bag. Withdrawing her glasses, she put them on before pulling out her iPad and returned her attention to me.

  “So many you need to look them up?” My heart rate and my imagination took off in a sprint.

  “A lot of misdirection and lies. Samuel has completely turned the tables upside down on us.” She swiped her finger over the display. Her face aglow, she glanced up. “He says that you spend extravagantly. That you’re a spoiled little girl and wanted your money, needed it to support your lavish lifestyle.”

  “The Beverly Hills is an expensive hotel. It looks bad that I’m staying here,” I said dully. My stomach clenched tight. “I’m sure he’ll go through my closet and show everyone the rows and rows of shoes.”

  “We’re staying here because it’s a central location, and the staff is accustomed to celebrities. You like shoes, as do most women. But yes, those are kernels of truth that he has crafted into lies.”

  “There’s more, isn’t there.” I could feel it. The portents of doom clouded the air.

  “He says you came on to him that night. That he refused you. That you ran away when he rejected you.”

  “That’s insane.”

  “An outright fabrication. It doesn’t matter what the truth is. In this industry, it’s all about manipulating perceptions.”

  “The reward money.” I could guess where his lies led. “When Fanny and I disappeared, he was prominently visible in the media, pretending he was doing everything to find us. There are tons of video and photos of him looking like a distraught father.”

  “Hard to argue against the visual evidence that makes him seem like the injured party.” Her expression turned somber. “Versus your poise at the press conference, and us being vague about the specific details the night you fled.” She shook her head. “In retrospect, those are mistakes that support his narrative. He’s twisted everything. Saying you weren’t really hiding but partying it up with a rock band, making up lies about him.”

  “Oh no.” My heart sank.

  “Samuel’s pretty convincing. I don’t think many really believe him. But no one wants to get involved until things settle out.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “We’re going to get to work.” She tapped her screen with a manicured nail. “And get your career back on track with the two remaining roles for you to choose from.”

  “There were a half dozen offers yesterday.”

  “Now there are not.”

  I closed my eyes, clenching my fingers into fists at my sides. “Which ones are left?”

  “Valentine’s project.”

  I let out a relieved exhale. That was the one I not only wanted, I needed. The offer was for a substantial amount. “And the other?” I opened my eyes.

  “The small indie one.”

  “The Midwest romantic comedy?”

  “Yes, but not much revenue associated with it.” She lowered her glasses to the tip of her nose.

  “It’s okay. I’m going to do both.”

  “Back-to-back time commitment?” she said, making it sound like a question. “Six months of work with no rest between.”

  “I’ll manage.” I sat up straighter and told her what I probably should have last night. “Samuel called. He asked me to take back the accusations, and I refused. This is the result.”

  “Oh, Hollie.”

  I let out a shaky exhale, hating that my eyes stung with bitter tears. “My stepfather has no love for me, that’s certain.”

  “There’s more,” she said, and bile rose to the back of my throat. “Carter Besille withdrew the segment on his show and the backstory special.”

  “Bu
t he came here yesterday. He was so adamant about wanting me to do it.”

  “He got Samuel instead.” Olivia’s hazel eyes welled with empathy as she peered over the rim of her glasses at me. “The first teaser from it already aired. I made a few phone calls. Found out what he said.”

  “Samuel must have already taped it before he even called me. He knew I wouldn’t back down, or he planned to air it anyway.”

  “He has no scruples.”

  “All those years I admired him.” I swallowed hard. “I was a stupid little girl, a blind fool.”

  “He was your father.”

  “He’s not now.” I clung to that truth.

  “Your parent. We don’t get a say in who those are.”

  I nodded. “At least I had the best mother one could ever hope to have.”

  “Good girl. Remember your advantages. You’ll need to focus on the positive moving forward.”

  “Give it all to me,” I said grimly. “Everything you know. What I need to prepare for.”

  “Your career short term is going to be difficult. These two roles. You’re going to need to put your heart and soul into your performances, or there likely won’t be any more to follow. Samuel means to ruin you. He’s not just hinting that you’re emotionally unstable, he’s brought out witnesses.”

  “Who?”

  “Staff at the mansion. Classmates to say what a loner you were. Chris Hansen.”

  “I don’t want to know the specifics.” I rubbed my temples that had started to throb. My former costar boyfriend had found a way to get back at me for cutting ties to him, and he got in Samuel’s good graces at the same time.

  “You need to be more careful who you let close. Assume all are out to use you to their advantage.”

  I knew that. It was the nature of the business, even when Samuel was on my side. I should have sought to be more cynical, not less.

  “We need to be proactive. Anticipate Samuel’s next move, so he looks like he’s the one scrambling to react, not us.”

  “All right.” I scooted forward. “He’s come after my career. My emotions. My relationships . . .”

  I glanced at the door again, and my chest began to sizzle with hurt. “You want me to call it off with Max.” I brought my hands together and twisted them.

 

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