Undone

by Mia Kayla

  “This is crazy. Why is this happening? Why are they targeting Tene?” My mother’s voice heightened with hysteria. “How do you know that we don’t need security too? How do you know that you didn’t lead her to our home?” She gripped the armrests, her knuckles white from the tension.

  “Mother, calm down,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. Of course, she’s more worried about herself. “It’s never going to get to that point.”

  Her face turned to me, one shaky finger pointed my way. “Don’t tell me to calm down. Why is Jordan’s stalker after you?”

  Her eyes lay deathly intent on my face, and I swallowed.

  “Because she wants Jordan.” Duh. Isn’t that obvious?

  “So? What does that have to do with you or Angie?”

  “Mrs. Armstrong …” Jordan swallowed, and he placed one strong hand on top of mine. “This stalker’s aggression is geared toward Tene because … because we’re together.”

  Bomb number two dropped.

  Way to silence the room.

  My gaze dropped to the tablecloth and the silver napkin rings set on top of my great-grandmother’s china. Everyone’s eyes burned through me, but I wasn’t ready for this—for everyone to judge me and my decisions.

  The last and only man I had taken home to meet my parents had cheated on me. The constant questions about Logan, where he was, what had happened between us had been never-ending, which hadn’t helped my state of mind at the time. That time had spiraled me into a depression that took a good part of my heart, my self-esteem, and my self-worth.

  And here I was again, opening myself to vulnerability.

  I knew I’d said I wouldn’t date Jordan. My mother had warned me off him, but there was no way I couldn’t at least give this … us … a chance.

  He ducked into my line of sight, and longing and pure fierceness poured out of him. “And because she’s mine, I’m never going to let anything happen to her. Ever.”

  My sister openly sighed on the other side of me. When I turned to face her, her smile was blinding, super-cheese to the max. I bumped my shoulder against hers. If only I had the same reaction from the rest of my family.

  My mother’s reaction was stoic, but my father’s and Nana’s matched Angie’s. Both of them exuded happiness. Laugh lines were etched on the corner of Nana’s mouth. My father’s eyes crinkled.

  “So, my eldest daughter has a boyfriend now.” My dad grazed his white beard with one hand, his fingers twisting at the ends, and his eyes landing on Jordan’s face. “She’s a special girl, and she needs to be treated right.”

  Jordan's eyes flickered between my father’s and mine, and he squeezed my hand on top of the table. “I don’t think she’d have it any other way.”

  “I know how that is.” My father chuckled, and his gaze landed on my mother’s. “Like mother, like daughter.”

  Being compared to my mother was like being compared to the Queen of England and Mother Teresa, all in one—proper, respectful, and perfect. You’d never live up to their expectations. I didn’t want to be compared to my mother, even if I always was because I looked most like her.

  She playfully slapped his arm, and he reached in, grabbed it, and brought it to his lips. My father always lightened my mother’s mood, lit it like a candlewick. He had a knack for doing that, for making her smile when she rarely did, for easing up her seriousness when she needed it.

  Wyatt spoke up beside me, “And don’t worry; you’re safe, Mrs. Armstrong. So are Tene and Angie. You should see the precautions made for Angie because of Cade’s crazy protectiveness.” The side of his mouth quirked up, and it made me pause for a second, noting the unnatural lightness in his tone. Wyatt tended to stay in the quiet, serious box.

  Was that his form of a joke?

  “It’s my job to take care of the people I love,” Cade said in defense.

  “That’s my job too.” Jordan’s eyes grazed my face, scouring it, our eyes never breaking contact.

  I held my breath. For one, two, three seconds. Did he just nonchalantly proclaim his love for me?

  I averted my stare, my chin lowered toward the food already getting cold on the table. “And let’s eat, shall we?” I didn’t know how to process what he’d said or hadn’t said or could possibly mean. And I didn’t want to read too much into his words.

  I didn’t want a repeat of the past. I needed someone to press the brakes and slow us down.

  “Can you pass me the potatoes?” I tipped my chin toward Nana in an effort to divert attention and get the eating started.

  Dinner was filled with tons of food and laughter, mostly by the men. Wyatt, Cade, and Jordan’s banter was refreshing, and it changed our family dynamic of mostly women.

  “Jordan, remember when you thought girls had vaginas and boys had pizzas?” Wyatt laughed.

  “Inappropriate, bro,” Cade said, but his chest shook from his chuckle.

  “Well, if we’re going way back, all the way back, do you remember when you thought everything was yours to pee on? Even the damn dog.”

  Wyatt chuckled and rubbed one hand down his growing beard.

  The whole table burst into laughter, and Wyatt lifted both hands. “What? He was always lifting his leg on every corner to pee. I thought it was about time for him to learn his lesson.”

  “With all the peeing and pizzas … I think it’s time for dessert.” My mother smiled and shook her head, obviously amused. “Angie, will you help me bring in the dessert?” When my mother stood, Angie followed her to the kitchen.

  Jordan’s hand rested on my thigh, giving it a little squeeze. Wyatt and Cade continued with their banter, but Jordan simply leaned into me and said, “You think you’re up for some pizza later?”

  My brows furrowed, and a mischievous grin crept up his face.

  “You know, my pizza.” His chin gestured downward.

  I rolled my eyes and then leaned into him, resting my hand in between his legs. “Didn’t you know? Pizza is my favorite. Especially this kind.”

  “Thanks for having us.” Jordan, with his sweet ways, lightly kissed Nana on the cheek and then hugged my mother next.

  They were both smitten with him. I mean, who wouldn’t be? He was beautiful, handsome, and undeniably charming.

  Nana hung on his arm, her short stature causing her to lift her chin to peer up at him. If Nana were forty years younger, she’d give me a run for my money.

  “Come over for dinner tomorrow night,” Nana said, eyeing my mother for her approval. “Right?”

  My mother laughed beside him. It was refreshing to see her so lighthearted, to hear the joy in her voice, to experience this side of her. “Yes, Jordan, please come over for dinner tomorrow night.”

  Amusement lit his eyes. “We’re on the last leg of filming, so I’ll be doing a few more long nights before it’s over, but we’re having a cast party when we wrap up. I’d love for you all to come.”

  Nana leaped in the air, overjoyed. “We’ll be there.”

  “Nana …” I scolded, afraid she’d break her hip.

  My father shook his head. “Mom, it’s not like you’ve never seen a famous person before.”

  She cocked her head. “Well, we haven’t. Except for this young, handsome gentleman in front of us.” She winked at my boyfriend. Seriously winked.

  “How about George, our neighbor who was in that car commercial?” my father asked.

  She waved a hand. “Not the same thing.”

  I wanted to laugh. Obviously, not the same thing. There were C-list actors and Jordan Ryder, who didn’t need an introduction.

  Dad threw an arm over Jordan’s shoulder. “Take care of my girl. She may seem tough on the outside, but she’s just a sweet princess.” His hold tightened around Jordan, a mostly benign but slightly menacing look in his eyes. “Don’t mess with my princess.”

  Princess. It was the name he’d called me since I was a little girl when I’d sit on his knee. Sometimes, every now and then, when I sealed a deal, closed on
a new property, filled in a vacant location with a new tenant, that word princess would slip from his mouth, and I’d smile big or roll my eyes, pretending I was annoyed, but inside, I lived for those moments. The moments that reminded me I would always be Daddy’s girl.

  “Yes, sir.” Jordan’s smile widened into an almost grin. That cute little chin dimple was widely on display. “I’ll treat her like the princess she truly is.”

  Dad tipped his chin in approval, stepped back, and plucked a blank paper from his back pocket. “Hey, so I have this golf buddy, and his wife is a major fan. Can you just sign this really quickly for him? He wants to use it as a way to get him out of the house for more time on the green.”

  Smooth. Real smooth, Dad.

  Jordan chuckled. “Sure thing.”

  I eyed my sister from the other side of the room, and we shared an amused glance.

  After we all said our good-byes, Cade, Angie, Wyatt, Jordan, and I strolled out the door and down our circular driveway to our respective cars.

  “I think I’ve replaced you as the favorite boyfriend,” Jordan said, tipping his chin toward Cade.

  “Pfft. Yes, favorite actor boyfriend who has gained his girlfriend a stalker,” Cade growled, rubbing his forefinger at a vein throbbing at his temple.

  Angie slapped Cade’s side. “That’s mean.”

  “Low blow, bro,” Wyatt said.

  “I think I sense a little jealousy in the air.” Jordan opened my passenger door, but not before I caught a little scowl on Cade’s face.

  “Bye, Angie,” I said, blowing her kisses. “Call you tomorrow.”

  We hopped in the car, and he held my hand in silence as the quiet suburban night and lights of the highway passed us by. My mind wandered to dinner and the interaction of both of our families that seemed to simply just fit.

  Fit was the appropriate word. It was light and effortless, just how relationships should be—minus the stalker talk.

  “Are you worried?” Jordan asked, his voice quiet.

  I blinked and faced him. The moonlight highlighted the creases between his eyebrows.

  “Because the studio left me a message when we were at dinner. She just flew back home to California.” His eyes went to the road, but I sensed the relief in his tone.

  My stomach dropped to the floor and then kept going. So, it had been her. “She was here.” I guessed a big part of me refused to believe it was true.

  “Yeah, and though we don’t have proof she’s the one who placed that note in your car, I know in my gut it was her.” His jaw tightened, and I stared at the shadow of his hardened features—his square jaw, the sharp planes of his nose, and the scowl on his face. “But we’ll know when she comes back in town. Then, I’ll snap pictures, and she’ll be detained like she was before.”

  “This is crazy.” My voice was soft, reserved, opposite to my rapidly beating pulse.

  “I’m used to the craziness. I’m just not used to having someone else all up in my craziness.”

  He reached over, intertwined our fingers, and squeezed my hand. I loved it when he did that. It was in the simplest of touches that I knew he was with me.

  “I hope that’s a good thing.”

  “It’s a very good thing,” he said, his eyes briefly meeting mine. “I love your craziness.”

  “I guess you attract the crazies.” I shivered at my own words, and my smile diminished.

  The truth was, there was someone unstable out there who’d contacted me, and none of us knew what she was capable of.

  Chapter 25

  When I awoke the next morning, I heard the shower running, and the bed was empty beside me. My skin rested against the soft hotel sheets, and it felt like heaven.

  After turning over, I buried my head in the pillow, inhaling deeply and taking in the scent of my boyfriend mixed with our passion from last night.

  Sigh. Boyfriend. I hadn’t had one of those in a while. And I had to admit, it felt wonderful.

  The ringing of Jordan’s phone brought my attention to the side table. The old Christene would have checked messages and listened to his voice mail. The new, improved Christene flipped over, grabbed the pillow, and placed it over my head, wanting to revel in my blissful state. I never wanted to get up from this bed—ever. I never wanted to go to work. Never wanted to do anything but lie here and be with my boyfriend. I drowned out the ringing of his phone with happy thoughts of us last night and then again this morning.

  The room went silent, but in the next moment, Jordan’s phone rang again and again and again. I peeked over at the black cell, and then it went silent again. My head was about to drop onto the pillows when another round of ringing started. This must’ve been the fifth call. It had to be an emergency.

  What if it was the studio or one of his brothers with news of the stalker?

  The running water from the shower continued, so I yelled out his name. There was no way he was going to hear me, but maybe if he did, he’d stop the shower and pick up this annoying phone.

  When the sixth cycle of ringing began, I reached for the phone. “Hello?”

  The screen of his phone popped up with a number. It wasn’t programmed with a name.

  “Hello?” I repeated.

  “Hello.” The female voice leaked sugary sweetness one second and fiery coal the next. “Who is this?”

  “Christene. Who’s this?” I didn’t like her sharp tone.

  “Where’s Jordan?” she snapped.

  The rudeness in her voice heightened like an alarm bell, but I maintained composure. She could be someone from work or a friend from home, a cousin …

  “He’s in the shower,” I answered, voice tight.

  “Well, you tell him Bianca called. He’ll know who I am, and I know he’ll want to call me back.” She sounded so sure.

  “Are you from work?” I couldn’t rule this out, but her tone, her low voice, didn’t scream business.

  “Work?” She had the audacity to laugh out loud. “Work? Oh, honey.” The high-pitched, witch-like laughter gave me goose bumps but not the good kind. “Just tell him to call me. After the time I showed him in Las Vegas … well …” Her voice lowered. “… he will.”

  Then, she hung up, not giving me a chance for a witty comeback.

  What the living hell? Ahhh. The nerve of some women!

  I gripped his phone, lifted it above my head, and was about to chuck his very expensive cell to the far corner of the room until something deep in my gut told me not to. Only someone who’d been hurt before in a prior relationship, someone who was insecure, would do that, and I was better than this. He wasn’t Logan, and this relationship was not like my last one.

  The edges of the phone dug deep into my palm, making an indentation in the middle of my hand, and I brought it by my side.

  My eyes flickered to the bathroom door. The water was still going … and I debated for two seconds, but curiosity won out, so I checked his phone. The texts were innocent. Mostly from his brothers, some from the studio. Some were from girls that had gone unanswered. I scrolled and scrolled and hated myself for even doing this, and yet, I couldn’t control myself. I was the wounded animal checking the hunter’s gun for bullets. I needed to know what I was up against.

  I placed the phone on my lap, staring at the picture of his brothers with their mother, and then I scrolled down through other photos.

  My pulse stopped when one particular picture popped up.

  Candice. In my gut, I knew it was her, it was in her features that she shared with her biological brother, Cade.

  Beautiful, young, and vibrant.

  One of them at the park, her sitting on his lap. One where she was hugging him fiercely, kissing his cheek with her eyes closed.

  There were endless pictures of them together, and a constant smile lit up Jordan’s face. I curled into myself, watching their love story play in front of me.

  A lump formed in the back of my throat, and I stopped at a picture where he was staring at her as though she
was the most beautiful thing in the world, so much love and adoration in his expression—a picture-perfect love story that you’d see on greeting cards.

  My eyes fell shut, and then I gritted my teeth and put the phone down.

  She was dead.

  Gone.

  I had to worry about the ones who were healthy, alive, and wanted him in the flesh. Not his dead girlfriend.

  She couldn’t hurt me now. Could she?

  I let out a long, shaky sigh. If a man was going to cheat, he was going to cheat. I just needed to trust him. Jordan Ryder was the hottest male to walk the planet. I couldn’t be with him all the time. I had a life, and my life didn’t involve running around the nation after a man to keep tabs and make sure he was faithful.

  The door to the bathroom flung open, and Jordan came out with a towel wrapped around his waist, drying his hair with another towel. Beads of water ran down his well-defined chest. Right by Candice’s name.

  I threw his phone on the comforter. “Bianca called,” I said, my tone heavy with defeat. “She wants you to call her back.”

  I threw my arm over my eyes, already tired from a day I hadn’t even started. And to think, I had woken up in such a good mood.

  The bed dipped, and the scent of his aftershave wafted my way. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” I said, not moving, barely breathing, and just annoyed as fuck.

  He pulled my arm from my eyes, his own gaze serious and tender at the same time. I hated it when he looked at me like that, as though everything would be right in the world; it made me feel guilty that I didn’t have enough confidence to believe it.

  “If there’s something you want to ask me, just ask, okay? I’m pretty much an open book, straightforward and honest to a fault. It’s a redeeming and damning quality of mine.” He tipped up my chin with the lightness of his fingertips.

  I sat up, back against the headboard, direct with my question, unable to bite it back. “Who’s Blanca?”

  His gaze didn’t waver. “A girl I met in Vegas. Yes, we had a temporary fling. No, I’m not into her. Yes, she keeps calling me, though I never pick up her calls or listen to her voice mails. Anything else?”