by Kelly Myers
It’s a quick trip down the hill and the driver takes a left onto Sunset Boulevard and heads over to the Chateau Marmont Hotel. One of the most prestigious addresses in Hollywood, 8221 Sunset Boulevard is easy to miss with its short, narrow driveway marked by a small sign.
But, anyone who’s anyone knows the place.
Sitting on a hill overlooking the famed Sunset Strip, the Chateau Marmont has been a staple of old Hollywood since it opened in 1929. With its faded oriental rugs, velvet couches and brass candelabras, the atmosphere is brooding and nostalgic.
It’s also discreet and the place where the staff bend over backwards to make you happy which is probably why celebrities prefer it to more modern hotels.
I enjoy its vintage charm for what it is, the air of exclusivity that surrounds it and, of course, the idea that such icons like Greta Garbo stayed here. The restaurant and bar are also fantastic. Today, I’m meeting Daniel up at the restaurant on the outdoor patio.
I know I have to break up with him, but this isn’t the time or place to do it. Tomorrow night, we are attending a party and after that, I plan to talk to him. Today, though, is all about business and the new movie he wants me to star in.
I walk outside onto the patio and he and his producing partner, Leo Mancuso, stand up. “Hello, E, baby,” he says and kisses each of my cheeks. I struggle not to roll my eyes. Daniel is so Hollywood sometimes that I can’t stand it.
“Good to see you, Easton,” Leo says and follows suit. Kiss, kiss.
“You, too.” I sink down into the chair and a server places a chilled flute of Taittinger’s Blanc de Blancs in front of me. “Thank you,” I say.
“You read the script I sent over, right?” Daniel asks.
I barely have time to take a sip of the champagne and he’s already talking about that terrible script. “Yes, Daniel, and I think it needs some work.” God, what an understatement.
“Don’t you worry about that, E. All scripts need rewrites, but all in good time. Right now, I just need to know you’re interested and we can secure financing and get the ball rolling.” He winks at me and I force a smile.
“I still have to think about it,” I tell him.
“Think about what? It’s going to be a fantastic film full of action and intrigue. And, let’s face it, E, you need to spice up your career a little. You can only do so many boring dramas before you lose your audience.”
Ouch. “You think I’m losing my audience?”
“No, baby, but you are turning thirty soon so let’s hit ‘em where it counts. Get you signed onto this role so you can wow ‘em in some tight leather pants and high-heeled boots. Prove that you’ve still got that sex appeal.”
For a moment, I’m at a loss for words. Are you kidding me? How rude. God, I want to reach across the table and smack his face. I struggle to maintain my calm and poise, but it’s really hard. He just hit me below the belt and I don’t appreciate it. Not one little bit.
Suddenly, I just want to leave. Why am I sitting here with these two men who don’t care about me at all? They just have their hand out like everyone else and want something from me.
“Since you haven’t asked, I just wanted to let you know that Jax will be staying at the house until the threatening messages stop.” My voice is tart and curt. If he thinks I’m going to do this movie after insulting me, he’s crazy.
“You mean the dude who answered your phone last night at midnight?”
“Yes. Jaxon Wilder.”
I suppose I’m trying to make him jealous, maybe rile him up a bit, but Daniel doesn't take the bait. He really doesn’t care, I think. It’s becoming more obvious every day.
“So, E, I really think you should re-read the script with fresh eyes. And, keep in mind that it was written for an actress in her early twenties, but since you’re still hot as hell-”
“Daniel, stop.” I hold up my hand. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. In fact, I feel a headache coming on and think it’s best if I go home.”
“Whatever you need, babe.”
I stand up and nod to them both.
“We’re still hitting up that party tomorrow night at The Roosevelt, right?”
“Yes,” I say with a resigned sigh. “You should probably come over around seven and we can head over.”
“Sounds good, E.” Then, he turns his attention to Leo, back to talking business.
As I walk out of the restaurant and through the hotel, I wonder if Daniel cares about me at all? If he ever did? At first, he tried and put on a charming show, but now…
I slide into the back of the sedan and direct the driver to take me home. Daniel should be the one who’s concerned and protecting me, but he’s not. Jax is the one who races over and holds me when I’m frightened.
Because you’re paying him an outrageous fortune, I remind myself.
But, then, I remember his kiss and wonder if he’s attracted to me for more than just my money and for who I am?
Could Jax Wilder be different? I wonder.
In less than ten minutes, I walk up to my front door, unlock it and hear the alarm start to count down. I enter 2212 and it shuts off. Then, like Jax instructed me, I instantly re-arm it.
It’s very quiet and I guess everyone went home. Olivia probably ran out to do an errand. With a sigh, I wander down the hallway and can’t stand how eerily quiet the house is and feel an overwhelming surge of loneliness.
And I realize how much I miss Jax’s presence. I like him hovering nearby, keeping an eye on things, as he likes to say. My heart squeezes inside my chest. When this is all over, I’ll probably never see him again and that gloomy thought leaves me feeling unsettled.
Maybe a swim will make me feel better. I slip out of my dress and heels, wrap my hair up into a loose bun, and put on my favorite vintage bathing suit. It’s a red Gingham two-piece and beyond adorable. It’s not skimpy like a regular bikini and provides full coverage with a high waist. The top ties in front, pushes my ample chest up to the heavens and dips low enough to show off some deep cleavage. It’s totally sexy in a 1950s kind of way.
All my bathing suits are similar. My body is way too curvy and busty for a teeny-tiny bikini. The moment I would start swimming, I can guarantee there’d be a massive wardrobe malfunction.
I feel bad for being so cool to Jax after that very hot kiss. I didn’t want to be, but I realize now that it scared me. It was a matter of self-preservation. Because getting involved with a bad boy is emotional suicide. It will not end well for me. For him, it will be a fun little diversion from all the other women in his life. He can enjoy the sex and when things get too serious, he will bolt.
I grab a towel, turn off the alarm and head out the back doors to the patio. Suddenly, I don’t care about my hair or makeup. I just need to cool off so I dive into the pool and start swimming laps.
Jax has got me all hot and bothered. As I propel myself through the chlorinated water, I remember the way he pushed up against my back. I can’t stop thinking about it, to be honest.
“Make no mistake, Princess. It’s hard.”
Out of breath, I tread water, praying for some kind of relief from all these lustful thoughts. But, the only thing I think will assuage the burn is sleeping with the man himself.
Or, you could sleep with Daniel. You know, your boyfriend?
I push the censorious, little voice out of my head and lay back, floating on the surface, eyes on the blue sky above. Jax has an amazing body and I can picture the moment he turned halfway around to reveal flat, hard abs. I want to run my hands down the grooves and then explore each and every tattoo on him. From his rock-hard bicep over to his chest up his neck. And, then his forearm.
I groan.
I love how tall and lean he is, but at the same time, how muscular and athletic his build is. One of the things that’s really growing on me, what I’m starting to find so endearing, is the way his hair always falls in his eye and he brushes it back. That thick, long hair on top of his head has a mind of
its own and, no matter how many times he pushes it back, it falls forward again.
The pool isn’t helping me cool off. In fact, I’m feeling hotter than before. I swim over to the stairs, climb out and wrap myself up in the towel. I need to go over my lines for the table read tomorrow morning. And, to help me focus and numb thoughts of Jax, I’m going to need a glass of Blanc de Blancs.
By ten o’clock that night, I decide to go to bed. Beyond restless, I kick the sheet off and stare at the spiral staircase. A part of me wants to go up and sleep in the bed where he slept for a couple of hours last night, but I know the housekeeper already washed and changed the bedding. Any trace of his scent is gone, replaced by laundry detergent.
I reach for my phone and pull up his number. I want to hit send and tell him to come over. But, what’s my reason? I haven’t heard a peep from the stalker and that’s a good thing I try to tell myself.
Isn’t it?
Not if it keeps you and Jax apart, a small voice says.
My finger hovers over his number and I lick my lips. I can’t. How desperate and embarrassing. Unless...unless I tell him I got a call and-
No. I won’t lie to him. He would rush straight over here and spend the entire night patrolling the house and keeping me safe.
That’s not fair.
If I want to sleep with him then I need to go about it the honorable way. I’ve already decided I’m dumping Daniel tomorrow night after the party. Once I’m technically single again then whatever happens, happens. I’m not going to fight my attraction to Jax any longer.
It may turn out to be one night of passion and that’s it. But, I have a funny feeling that it would be the best night of my life.
My stomach drops and it’s almost two hours later when I finally fall asleep.
The next morning is like any other morning. Bobby, my trainer, arrives by 6:15 and works me out for an hour. I tell him to go extra hard and by the time we’re finished, I’m dripping sweat and out of breath.
Liv is here early because it’s going to be a busy day. We sip freshly-squeezed orange juice and discuss my schedule as Micah does my makeup and Sylvie styles my hair. Again, even though people surround me, I feel like something’s missing.
Before, I didn’t know what it was. Now, I know.
It’s Jax.
I push him to the back of my mind, though, because it’s time to leave for the table read. I set the alarm and lock the door. Then, I tuck the script under my arm and Liv and I get into the back of the sedan that will take us to the studio.
14
Jax
She didn’t call or text me to come over.
After tossing and turning all night, wondering if Easton was going to contact me, ready to race out the door at a moment’s notice, I never even heard from her.
Maybe the stalker is done playing his game.
That relieves me. It also makes me oddly sad knowing that I’ll never see Easton again.
It’s probably for the best, I tell myself. I’m tired of thinking about her all the time and I’m really fucking tired of going to bed with a hard-on and then waking up with a hard-on because I can’t stop picturing her thrusting her pelvis up into the air during that workout.
I take a quick shower, extremely cold, and decide to head over to the P.S. office. On the way, I grab a black coffee. I’m not sure what the day holds because I haven’t heard from Easton and I know she has a crazy couple of days ahead.
I unlock the office door and hit the lights. It’s nice to have the electricity back on again. I throw out some junk mail and head over to my desk. I glare at the duct-taped chair, but plop down in it anyway. Soon, I think with some satisfaction, you’re gonna be in the dumpster.
I open my laptop and do some research on tracing calls. Then, I put in a call to Verizon, Easton’s provider. It doesn’t really help much and I’m no closer to finding out who texted her phone that night.
I glance over at my cell then swipe it up and open an app called Mobistealth. Unknown to Easton, I installed the cell phone tracking app on her phone when she thought I was simply entering my phone number in her contacts.
Using GPS technology, the app shows the target’s location and I can get live tracking through my dashboard. Not only that, I can see where she regularly visits and monitors all of her cell phone activity including phone calls, text messages, social media accounts and web browsing.
Even if her GPS is turned off.
It’s a fucking brilliant app and a total invasion of her privacy.
But, if something were to happen, I need to be able to find her fast. I promised myself that I would keep her safe and, after failing Madison, I’ll do whatever it takes.
Fuck her fucking privacy.
Since I didn’t hear from her, I’m assuming no new texts from the stalker came last night and, according to the app, that’s correct. I see texts from Liv and the rest of the entourage, but that’s it. Oh, and one from that idiot boyfriend of hers pressuring her about reading some script that he wants her to do.
I don’t know why she’s wasting her time with that twat. I mean, technically I don’t know anything about him. But, from what I do know, he sounds like a jackass. I pull up Google and type in “Daniel Rogers, producer.”
A slew of pages come up, but I’m just looking for a picture. My stomach drops when I see most of the images are of him and Easton. He’s on the shorter side with dirty blond hair and a fake-bake tan. I suppose he’s not completely unfortunate-looking, but something about him appears sleazy. Maybe it’s that shit-eating grin on his face. Or, the way he’s always touching her.
Makes me want to punch him.
Instead, I zoom in on her. I let out a low, uneven breath. So damn stunning. I don’t care if she’s all dolled-up on a red carpet like this or in an oversized t-shirt without a stitch of makeup.
Either way, I want her.
When my groin invariably tightens, I groan and grind my palms into my eyes.
I should just seduce her and get it over with. Get her out of my system. It’s worked in the past with women so why wouldn’t it work with her?
A part of me doesn’t want to be done with her so fast, though. With Easton, I want more than a one-night stand. I don’t do serious relationships so I guess I want an affair. A long-term affair and a serious relationship don’t seem that much different to me. Maybe the only difference is an affair has no strings attached, no commitment and you’re free to see other people.
Hmm. I don’t want that.
Fuck, am I actually considering a serious relationship?
This woman has ruined me, I think, as Griff strolls in, a big grin on his face. He grabs a metal chair, spins it around and straddles it. “Thinking about your new lady-love?” he teases.
My eyes narrow. “I’m working on the case. Why’re you so happy?”
“Because I got a paycheck from this place. Thanks, man.”
My mouth edges up. “Feels pretty good, huh? I just hope another case rolls in soon because I’m not sure how much longer this one’s gonna last.”
“You get a break?”
I shake my head. “No, but the calls have stopped and the security system we installed is doing its job.”
“That’s good, though.”
“No, I know. It’s just…” my voice trails off. How do I accept not seeing Easton anymore?
“You’re gonna miss seeing her,” Griff says.
Griffin Lawson is too observant and too smart for his own good sometimes, I think. I sigh and lean my head back. “I mean, I’m not gonna deny she’s hot. But, it’s more than that.”
“Are you in love?” he asks, his voice teasing again.
I clam up. The last thing I want to do is confide how I’m feeling about Easton to this playboy. He wouldn’t know what love is if it knocked him upside the head. “I enjoy her company. Let’s leave it at that.”
“Did you sleep with her?”
“No! She’s a client.” When he smirks, I throw my pen at
him and it bounces off his chest. “We don’t sleep with the clients, Griff,” I say slowly, enunciating each word and drilling it home. “Don’t forget that.”
“I know, I know,” he says. “But, when she’s not a client anymore then you could pursue it.”
I run a hand along my bristled jaw. “Nah. She has a boyfriend.”
“Oh, really?”
“He’s a total douche. Take a look.” I turn my laptop around to show him the image of Daniel Rogers with Easton on the red carpet.
“Nice tan,” Griff comments. “He looks like a pumpkin.”
I burst out laughing. “Can you explain something to me? If this is your woman, why the hell wouldn’t you be in her bed every single night?”
“I would be.”
“Right? The guy’s never there. Ever.”
“Then, either he’s crazy, gay or they don’t have a very good relationship.”
I spin the laptop back around, considering Griff’s words. “It doesn’t make any sense to me. If I were with Easton, everybody would know it.”
Griff’s bright blue, perceptive eyes narrow. “I think you should make a move. Fuck this guy. He obviously doesn’t know a good thing when he’s got it so screw him. He doesn’t deserve her.”
“Neither do I, though,” I admit.
“Why do you say that?”
“I don’t know how to have a serious relationship, Griff.”
“So? Who said anything about a serious relationship? Just have fun.”
“I guess I wouldn’t treat her worse than he does,” I say.
“There you go.”
“But, it has to be after the case is closed.”
“Obviously.” Griff flashes that bright white smile of his.
I don’t know why he finds this so amusing.
“And,” Griff continues, “If it doesn't work out, you don’t have to see her again. Everybody wins.”
“Sometimes I question your logic,” I tell him.
“I blame it on the CIA. They fucked my head all up.”