Fame And Secrets (Lords Of Lyre Book 2)

by Cora Kenborn

  Her defiance snapped back as she smacked her palms on her desk. “Discretion on what, exactly?”

  I focused on her face as I delivered the truth I’d kept hidden. “Daniel Dalton is in Los Angeles.”

  Chapter Ten

  Phoebe

  “He’s not coming.” The realization hit me as I watched the ultrasound tech glance at her watch for the fourth time in less than ten minutes.

  “You don’t know that,” Faith said, chewing her fingernails as if they were her last meal.

  A defeated laugh escaped my lips. “Don’t patronize me, Faith. I specifically told him the day and time. He promised he’d be here. My appointment is almost over. I think it’s a lost cause.” I shifted my eyes toward the tech who’d been fiddling with the knobs on the machine.

  “Mrs. Ryan…” she began with an apologetic frown.

  “It’s Miss Ryan.” The correction held more sharpness than intended.

  “Of course, I’m sorry. Miss Ryan, I wish I had more time, but we have other patients waiting. We completed the required measurements and dating of the fetus. While your baby is on the small side, it’s still normal for this stage of pregnancy.” She stared between Faith and me. “The only thing left is to determine the sex of the baby. I know you wanted the father here, but would you still like to know?”

  “Yes!” Faith exclaimed loudly.

  “No,” I said at the same time, my tone flat.

  Faith’s head whipped around and she shot me an incredulous look. “Isn’t that’s why we came here?”

  I shook my head. “As pissed as I am, I can’t do that to him. It wouldn’t be right.”

  “It’s your call,” she said, attacking her other set of nails. “But are you sure?” She seemed skeptical, but I held firm as an idea formed in my head. I focused on the tech, still sitting beside me with the ultrasound wand in her hand.

  “Would it be possible for you to turn the monitor away from us and determine the sex of the baby without us knowing?”

  “I suppose so. Why?” she asked curiously.

  I squared my jaw. “Because I don’t give up so easily.”

  ***

  Faith waited outside as I changed clothes. I was thankful to have her in my life again, especially today. Living in a place with three classes of people—famous, about to be famous, and the rest of LA—it comforted me to have a living reminder of home with me. The kind of home that felt safe and familiar.

  Much like my roommate, Gage, had been when I first moved to New York, Faith was my rock during Julian’s long absences, and the budding relationship she and Zane were cultivating couldn’t make me happier. The electric stares they gave each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking reminded me of the early days with Julian. Watching the excitement and newness through their eyes, I couldn’t help but reflect on a time where all made sense and we were invincible. I laughed and raked my hand across my forehead.

  Invincible.

  That was the last thing I felt. In fact, Julian’s actions made me more confused than I’d ever been. Glancing down, I ran both hands down my belly and garnered a response of a solid kick against my palm. It wouldn’t be long now. Two months. Eight weeks. Fifty-six days.

  Life as I knew it would change forever.

  Half of the time, the thought of bringing our baby into the world excited me. The other half scared the shit out of me. Not just by adding a third person into our volatile relationship, but as a rule, I’d never been big on pain. I shook my head at the realization that something as big as a baby’s head would be expected to be pushed through an opening the size of my diamond.

  My diamond.

  After tugging on my skirt, I fished in the hidden pocket. Pulling it from its secure resting place, I held it to my face for inspection. The center prism caught the fluorescent lighting overhead and it exploded into shards of light around the exam room.

  A tear fell as I realized he’d never truly proposed to me. I’d gotten a plastic pancake syrup band proposal, which I’d taken as somewhat of a joke at the time, and then given the shock of my life when he shoved a diamond on my hand on stage in front of a hundred people.

  He never asked me to marry him that night. He announced it into the microphone.

  Now, almost four months later, my hand weighed heavy with a diamond as my mind weighed heavy with a question.

  Would we even make it to the altar?

  ***

  When I met him at baggage claim, he went in for a kiss, and I turned my head. The bastard had the nerve to seem confused, but I kept my mouth shut. As furious as I was, I’d learned my role. I was a rock star’s girlfriend, and anything I did in public stayed in public by way of a paparazzi telephoto lens. They were everywhere, even when I thought they weren’t.

  So, I bit my tongue so hard I tasted blood.

  The ride home from the airport had been silent. It pissed me off that he either didn’t care he’d forgotten, or he wanted to be a dick about it. Either way, I planned on making his return home anything but happy.

  Turning around, I propped my elbow on the door handle and rested my chin on the palm of my hand. The safety of not facing him served as my only strength.

  “Phoebe, what’s going—”

  “Shut up, Julian.”

  “What?” I could feel his anger, and it strengthened my stubbornness.

  I opened my mouth to deliver a brilliant, bitchy response, but as I took another ragged breath, tears spilled down my cheeks. “Fuck you.”

  “Phoebe? Phoebe, look at me, damn it.”

  I openly defied him, keeping my face toward the window. Raging hurt lingered in my soul. He’d missed the only chance we’d have to experience that moment together. Finding out if we were having a son or a daughter was supposed to be monumental. Especially since circumstances stole everything else about this pregnancy from us. The gut punch he’d caused today negated all rational thought.

  Holding my breath, I waited for him to call my name again. Instead, he reached for the radio and turned it up full blast. We rode in silence as the loud metal music vibrated my shattered emotions. I rubbed my temple, trying to ward off the headache that brewed from the twenty minutes of pounding bass. Julian never said a word. He stared straight ahead with a locked jaw.

  Pulling into the driveway, I hoisted myself out, grabbed my purse, and power walked up to the porch. Once I reached the front door, I cursed, realizing I didn’t have my key. I whispered a prayer of thanks under my breath as it easily opened. I thought I’d locked it before I left for the airport, but pregnancy brain had me forgetting most basic actions lately. Julian struggled behind me with his suitcase as he clamored up the front steps. I slammed the door behind me, knowing it probably closed directly in his face.

  Good. I hope it hurt.

  The front door opened and slammed with unnecessary force. “Thanks for shutting the fucking door in my face.”

  I continued walking into the kitchen. “You deserved it.”

  A few muffled footsteps and he closed a hard grip onto my elbow, turning me to face him. “What the hell is wrong with you, Phoebe?”

  Anger welled inside me. The fact he forgot about the appointment and didn’t willfully dismiss it was almost worse. Every drop of self-restraint exited my body as I jerked my arm from his grasp.

  “What the hell is wrong with me? Don’t get pissed at me for acting like a bitch when you started all this moody bullshit before you left. Do you even know what today was?” When he didn’t speak, I took a step, forcing him backward. “Well, let me jog your memory, Jagger. While you bowed for your adoring public, did you think to check your phone? Because if you did, you might’ve seen about seven missed calls. And if you listen to the voice mails I left, you’ll know why I want to break my foot off in your ass right now.”

  “Oh, that’s rich. You berating me about checking voice mails.” His words hit hard, and I backed away from him. He shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Phoebe, I’ve had a long-
ass day. Just tell me what the hell you—”

  I shoved my hand into his pants pocket and produced his phone, holding it inches from his face. “Listen.”

  Julian rolled his eyes as he entered his passcode to access his voice mail. As my first message played, his hostile expression faded into a furrowed brow and a downturned mouth. As much as I tried to hold on to my anger, the torture on his face melted it into hollow sadness with each message that played. By the seventh and final one—the one where I dissolved into tears—breath stilled in his chest.

  When he finally spoke, it took him three tries to find his voice. “Do you…” he rubbed a shaking hand across his mouth, “…are we having…” His voice trailed off as regret reflected in his eyes. I wanted to rage and scream at him and make him feel as ravaged as I did in that exam room. But one look at his tormented face and I knew I couldn’t purposely hurt him.

  “No,” I said quietly.

  “Oh, thank god.”

  Lifting my chin, I held his stare. “Part of me wanted to find out just to piss you off. But I couldn’t do it. Not without you.”

  He cleared his throat. “So we don’t know?”

  I lifted an eyebrow at his question. “Oh, we know.” He stared at me in confusion. “I didn’t know if we’d get another ultrasound, so I had the tech write down the sex and seal it in an envelope. I figured we could open it at the shower.”

  “Shower?”

  My breathing became erratic at the possibility of another missed opportunity. “Julian Bale, don’t fucking tell me you forgot about the baby shower Faith is throwing for us in two weeks. You promised you’d make sure Kristina cleared your schedule. She’s making the whole band come, so you have no excuse.” With out of control emotions swirling, I shoved him in the center of his chest. “I swear to shit, Bale, if you skip out on me again…”

  Blinking rapidly, his regret quickly manifested into annoyance. “Jesus, calm down, Phoebe! I won’t miss the shower. I’m sorry about the appointment, all right? I had every intention of making it, then two extra interviews got tacked on at the last minute, which made us miss our flight. And besides that, the interviews weren’t even for the band. They were solo publicity promos for the damn book we’re supposed to be doing together, remember? Being pulled in fifty different directions doesn’t lend itself to punctuality, okay?”

  “Especially when we’re the last direction you’re looking, huh?” My voice dripped with ice. “I can’t help that I can’t travel. I guess a fat, pregnant side piece kind of gets in the way of your glitz and glamour lifestyle, huh, Jagger?”

  He stared at me for what seemed like forever, his jaw ticking. Finally, he wrapped his palm around the back of his neck and exhaled. “Goddamn it, would you stop calling me that?” He punctuated his words with a low growl. “I’ve been under a lot of—”

  I exploded. “Stress, I know. Stress. You’ve told me a million times. That’s your patented excuse.” Tears pricked my eyes again. “But what you haven’t told me is what this stress is, or why it’s so huge. You don’t tell me anything anymore. I feel like…” I lowered my head and sighed. “I feel like I live with a stranger.”

  The flush started at his neck and traveled upward. “What do you want from me, Phoebe?”

  I bit my bottom lip to maintain control. “Nothing, Julian. I don’t want a damn thing from you anymore.” I collapsed against the counter and hugged my engagement ring to my chest. Moments passed before quiet shuffling registered behind me. He picked up my hair and deposited it across my left shoulder. Opening my mouth to protest, I liquefied as he feathered soft kisses against my neck.

  Damn him.

  He knew which buttons to push and when to push them. My eyes closed, and he slipped his arm around my waist, resting his hand on top of my pregnant belly. With a deep-rooted sigh, he mumbled against the back of my head, his words caressing me with a seductive cadence.

  “I’m sorry, princess. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you’d walked out just now. I couldn’t have blamed you if you did.”

  “Julian, listen…” My voice sounded much too breathy for my liking. I’d planned on giving him the silent treatment, but he’d broken me with his touch.

  Dropping his lips against my collar bone, he continued his confession. “No, listen to me. There’s no excuse for missing the appointment. Period. I don’t care if it was for the autobiography or not. Nothing’s more important than you and our baby. I know I haven’t let you in on some things, but you have to believe me when I say I have my reasons. They’re not despite you, they’re for you. Everything’s always for you.”

  “Julian, I don’t think…”

  He wove his other arm through my thick hair, gently pulling my head against him. “Don’t think Phoebe. Please, just don’t think right now.”

  “You just can’t expect…” He interrupted again as his hand found its way under my skirt. He slid it slowly up my thigh and tilted it inward, causing me to draw a sharp breath.

  “I need you. Tell me you need me too. I want to hear you say it.”

  My ragged breathing was all I heard as his hand continued a path up the length of my inner thigh. Impatient, he pulled me firmly against him. Closing my eyes, I rested the back of my head against his chest while his full lips drew circles on my skin.

  “Just say it,” he whispered in my ear. “Tell me you still want me.”

  With our bodies pressed tightly together, my mind went blank, and all rational reasoning left, replaced by raw desire. Wrapping my hand around the back of his neck, I brushed my lips against his cheek.

  “I want you.” Three words were all I spoke as the hand on my thigh grasped the string of lace resting on my hip and slid it down. With my head still bent backward, I felt him fumble with his own button and my breathing picked up in anticipation.

  His lips pressed against my ear once more. “Hold onto the counter.”

  Releasing my hold on his neck, I tightened a secure grip onto the edge of the kitchen counter and held my breath. His own breathing picked up as he lifted me onto my toes. With one dip and thrust, he reclaimed my body as his own.

  He was home. Literally and figuratively.

  Chapter Eleven

  Julian

  The world spun underneath my feet as my breathing calmed. I dropped my forehead onto her shoulder and continued sucking air back into my deflated lungs. As she melted against me with a soft sigh, I couldn’t help burying my face in her thick, dark hair and breathing in as deeply as I could.

  Coconut.

  I filled my head with her scent…a mix of the shampoo I loved and raw sexuality. It was a combination that offered up a deadly cocktail that sent all thought and reasoning south. As many times as I’d had her, it continually surprised me that my need never diminished. She lit a fire inside of me that could only be contained by the feel of her.

  She’d scared the hell out of me. From walking into that hospital room to walking into our home, I’d felt her frustration and knew she felt mine. I thought maybe being away on the publicity tours would get my mind off what was happening, especially knowing Zane’s people were watching. It just made me crazier. I worried about her. I worried about our baby. I worried nothing I did would be enough for them.

  It scared me to the point of taking out my frustrations on her, again. But hearing her scream at me, like she’d reached the point of no return, broke me.

  “Nothing, Julian. I don’t want anything from you anymore.”

  I was losing her, and the tighter I held, the more she slipped away. I stood in the middle of our kitchen, holding the woman I loved, and wondered what kind of self-sabotage I’d done to my life.

  Daniel Dalton was winning

  Suddenly, the earlier anger toward Phoebe turned inward, and I began to hurt.

  Picking my head off her shoulder, I pulled her with me as I sank to the tile. Phoebe naturally molded into my lap as I leaned against the cabinets. Her steady breaths rose and fell against me, and I stroked her ha
ir, my lips pressed against her temple.

  “I’m sorry, baby.”

  “For what?” Her voice seemed so small, I half expected her to splinter and disappear.

  “For everything. For making you doubt me.”

  A worried line between her eyes deepened. “Is that really what you think?”

  “It’s what you said.”

  “No, Julian, it isn’t.” She placed a hand on my chest and turned to face me. “You’ve been pushing me away, and, yes, I’ve been upset, frustrated, whatever you want to label it. But I’ve never doubted you.” Her expression saddened. “Maybe what the future holds, but never you.”

  “The look in your eyes before…it was like you’d already given up.” The lump in my throat grew as I waited for a response—afraid of what she’d say and of what she wouldn’t.

  Sighing, she palmed my cheek. “I’m a fighter, Julian. I’ve had to be one all my life, and I don’t give up what I want easily. We’re going to fight, it’s life. A fight doesn’t mean I don’t love you, and it sure as hell doesn’t mean that I’m giving up on you.”

  “You said you doubted what the future held.” Involuntarily, my hold on her hips tightened. “I can’t lose you, Phoebe, but I also can’t tell you everything right now. I know that sounds self-destructive, and maybe it is. I just hope you trust me enough to stand beside me on this.”

  She straddled my waist and shoved her face against mine, forcing me to see the raw emotion in her eyes. “I love you, Julian Bale. Did you hear me? I. Love. You. I’m not a fan. I’m in love with the real man right here…in your arms and in your life.”

  “Phoebe—” She held a finger to my lips, then trailed it down my chest.

  “I said I love you. I’m always behind you…except…well…”