by Sarah Curtis
There’d been a few fights—she could be a bit stubborn and him too controlling—but nothing they hadn’t been able to talk out or work through. All in all, she’d been the happiest she’d ever been, and the way Nate acted, she had a feeling, if asked, he’d say the same.
But all that was about to change, now for more than one reason. They were almost finished filming, and their daily lives would no longer interconnect. She worried what Nate’s next project would be and where it might take him. That, in itself, could cause complications with their relationship, add a pregnancy to the mix and that created a whole new set of concerns. Concerns they’d never talked about. Concerns she wasn’t sure Nate was ready for. Hell, she wasn’t sure she was ready for them. They’d never talked about the future beyond their movie—never made a commitment. Nate never brought the subject up, and she’d been too scared to. She’d been content living in her happy little bubble, but she had a feeling her bubble was about to burst.
She glanced over at her phone, sitting beside her on the tile floor. That mocked her, too, daring her to pick it up and dial Nate. But she wanted to wait, confirm it with a doctor’s appointment first. Yes, that was her inner cowardliness talking, and she was going to listen. No sense blowing his world apart on the accuracy of a cheap piece of plastic. At least, that’s how she was rationalizing her decision.
Picking herself up off the floor, she slid the test back into the box and shoved the package in the cabinet under the sink, way in the back behind a bunch of junk. She washed her hands then looked at herself in the mirror. She didn’t look any different, but she did need to get her emotions under control. Nate would instantly know something was wrong—he always did where she was concerned—and he would be there soon.
She’d left him at the studio, still having a few extra scenes to work on. Usually, she’d have stuck around or waited for him in her trailer, but knowing the errand she’d needed to run and the privacy she’d want after, she’d told him to meet her at her house when he had finished. She’d used the excuse of wanting to cook them dinner to keep him from growing suspicious of her unusual behavior.
Taking one last look in the mirror, she fluffed her hair and pinched some color into her cheeks before heading downstairs to throw in the roast. Cooking would calm her nerves, but even still, she knew her acting skills would be put to the test that night.
“And that’s a wrap, people,” Simon yelled from his director’s chair.
Victoria looked over at Nate, a wide grin splitting her face, and a hand held up at the ready for a high five. “We did it.”
Ignoring her hand, he wrapped his arms around her waist, picking her up and executing a spin while burying his face in her neck. “Feels good to be finished.”
His voice vibrated against her throat, and she laughed, happy and excited and surprisingly full of energy despite the late hour.
He planted a kiss on her neck then dropped her to her feet. “Let’s go celebrate.”
Tabby Wiles, one of the supporting cast members who played Nate’s secretary in the movie, said, “A bunch of us are heading over to 3-2-1. You should join us.”
Nate looked her way with a raised brow. “You want to go?”
Victoria knew 3-2-1 was a popular nightclub a few blocks away on Hollywood Blvd, but she’d never been. She shrugged. “Sure, why not.” Then she leaned in and whispered so only he would hear, “If we hate it, we can always duck out and continue our celebration in private.”
“I think I like your idea better. Let’s ditch them now.”
Victoria chuckled. “No. We’re going to go and pretend we’re not the antisocial duo on the set.”
Nate exaggerated a sigh. “If you insist.”
“I do.” She turned to Tabby. “We’d love to go.”
“Great. We’re all changing then meeting over there.”
“Sounds good.” Victoria took Nate’s hand. “I think I have something to wear in my trailer. What about you?”
“I’m sure I can find something.”
Victoria had a spring in her step as they walked outside even going so far as executing a little skip.
“I would’ve taken you to a nightclub ages ago had I’d known it would make you this excited.”
Victoria beamed up at him. “I’m just happy filming is over. I think I’ve forgotten what it feels like to get eight hours of sleep.”
Nate nodded but warned, “Don’t get too excited. Once post production starts, they’ll be calling us in for retakes and voice overs.”
She turned, walking backward to give him a scowl. “Dream killer.”
Nate tipped his head back and laughed.
They parted ways at their trailers, and just as she was stepping through the door, her cell rang. Her manager’s name lit the screen. “Byron,” she said after answering the call and bringing the phone to her ear.
His voice boomed over the line. “Congratulations.”
She pulled the phone from her ear and stared at it in disbelief. How did he know these things? Putting the phone back to her ear she mumbled, “Um… thanks. How’d you find out so fast?”
“Oh, Victoria, you’ll find there’s nothing I don’t know.”
Yeah, well, he didn’t know one thing, and it was a biggie. She’d gone to the doctor, and it was confirmed. She was three months pregnant.
As if reading her mind, he said, “I have two readings booked for you next week.”
Victoria sighed into the phone. “We’ve already talked about this. I want to take a little break between movies.” Byron had been hounding her for the past week with potential role offers.
“We’ve got to strike while—”
“The iron’s hot,” she finished his sentence for him. “So you’ve said, a hundred times.” She needed to get him off her back about any new projects, but she wasn’t sure how to do that short of telling him the truth.
She still needed to tell Nate before she could tell Byron. And she would tell Nate soon. Just as soon as he returned from filming his commercial. She knew she was prolonging the inevitable, but their lives have been so crazy this past week, and now with him going out of town the next day, she figured it was better to wait until he came home.
Her stomach felt queasy at just the thought of telling Nate. She really was a big fat chicken.
“Listen, Byron, I need time off. So please stop booking readings for me.”
“Fine.” He sounded harassed. “I’ll give you a month, but that’s it. You can’t afford to step away longer than that.”
Growing agitated she foolishly blurted, “I need at least nine months.”
There was silence for a few beats where she could picture the wheels in Byron’s head spinning.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Please tell me that doesn’t mean what I think it does,” he finally said.
She remained silent. She’d already said too much.
“This is going to ruin your career before you even get started,” he yelled over the line, and she had to pull the phone away from her ear or risk going deaf.
Now she was just plain mad. “Plenty of actresses have babies, and it doesn’t ruin their careers.”
“Not so young in their careers. Besides, babies take a lot of time and energy. What if you decide to quit working after you have it?”
Like your mother. He didn’t say the words, but they were implied. Victoria knew her mother had never regretted leaving the business, but she was sure her mother’s manager regretted she had.
Moving on. “Don’t you think you’re jumping the gun? Let’s wait to cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“Fine. We’ll discuss it later.”
“There’s nothing to discuss. At least not for the next six months. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to anyone. You’re the only person who knows.”
“Oh, believe me, this is one cat I want left in the bag.”
Victoria hung up the phone after they said their goodbyes, then rushed back to the
bedroom. If she didn’t hurry and get changed, Nate would wonder what was taking her so long. And recounting her phone call with Byron was something she definitely didn’t want to do.
≈≈≈
Nate watched Vitoria disappear inside her trailer before heading to his. He paused on the steps, noticing a large manila envelope wedged under a rock sitting on the top stair. Slipping it out, he read his name scrawled in black marker across the front. It had been months since he’d received the last fan letter delivered to his trailer, but he remembered the handwriting. It was a match.
Taking it inside, he tore the envelope open, pulling out an article ripped from a magazine. Thankfully, he didn’t have to read the headline to know it was an interview he’d done for the latest issue of Hot Press magazine because slash marks—as if made with a knife—defaced the contents. Contents where he’d admitted to being in a relationship for the first time in his life.
Someone wasn’t happy about the news.
Fan mail wasn’t uncommon—even crazy fan mail was expected. It was the place of delivery that was worrisome. The studio was a secured facility. And though thousands of people traveled the sets, they were all authorized. As the envelope had no postmark, it was clear it had been hand delivered.
Sliding the document back into the envelope, he stuffed it in the drawer with the previous bit of fan mail. He was probably overthinking it. People sent crazy, creepy, and sometimes downright disturbing things to him all the time. The only difference was, he usually didn’t have to deal with it. He had a team that handled all his correspondence both mailed and online, only bringing to his attention things he deemed important—children, charities, families in need. The list didn’t include stalker fans.
He pushed it to the back of his mind, refusing to think and dwell on it while he showered. He also refused to think about it while he got dressed, throwing on black jeans and a gray t-shirt covered by a black blazer.
So, he found it strange why—fifteen minutes later when he was leaving to collect Victoria—his eyes strayed to the drawer holding the envelope. And stranger still was the tingle he got in the back of his neck when he thought about what lay nestled inside.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The nightclub was packed—a sea of bodies from one end of the room to the other. Lights flickered from every direction, creating a kaleidoscope of color. Music blared so loudly, Victoria could feel the bass thumping through her body. The people. The lights. The music. All of it was sensory overload, and she hated it until they were led up a flight of stairs to the VIP section that overlooked everything. There she could breathe.
Their group created quite a stir. She saw people pointing, getting excited as familiar faces were recognized. Nate wasn’t the only famous person in their party, but he was the most well-known. Unless someone lived under a rock, everyone in the crowd gathered below would know him on sight.
A waiter came by, holding a tray of champagne. Nate grabbed two flutes, handing her one, and so not to be conspicuous, she smiled before pretending to take a sip.
“To us,” Rick Massey said, holding up his glass of champagne. “May at least one of us make it to the Oscars.”
“Hear, hear,” the group chorused before clicking glasses.
Victoria followed suit, tapping her glass to Nate’s and the woman’s beside her. While everyone was busy chugging, she set her glass down on the table behind her.
Ever observant, Nate eyed her full glass before asking, “You don’t like it? Do you want something else?”
Latching on to his arm, she leaned in close. “Alcohol makes me sleepy.” She smiled slyly. “I’m not in the mood to be sleepy.”
Nate raised a brow. “Shall I guess what you are in the mood for?”
“You can try, but I can’t guarantee you’ll guess correctly.”
It was almost impossible to be overheard with the blaring music and the raised voices around them, but she was still grateful when he leaned in close to whisper in her ear, “Does it have anything to do with your pussy, my cock, and the many orgasms I can give you?”
It might have something to do with that, but she’d never admit it. “Your arrogance knows no bounds.”
“It’s only arrogant if it’s not true.” He followed his statement with a flick of his tongue, sucking her lobe into his mouth while humming in her ear.
Victoria discovered weak in the knees was a very real thing, and Nate was a master at executing it. She clutched his arm a little tighter, shamelessly pressing herself against his side.
He reached around her, setting his own glass beside hers on the table. “You’re in a mood. That means no more alcohol for me, either.” Placing his now free hand on her hip, he said, “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight? That dress looks amazing on you.”
She noticed where his eyes were directed and looked down at the bodice of the black, off-the-shoulder cocktail dress she wore. The way she was pressed against him did amazing things for her cleavage. Looking back up, she batted her eyes. “This old thing.” She smirked, letting him know he didn’t fool her.
They were so lost in their own little world, she didn’t notice Chuck Carter—who played Nate’s brother in the film—until he sidled up to them. “Who do we have to kill to get a real drink around here, eh?” he asked, obviously noticing their barely touched drinks.
“Maybe try the bar, Chuck,” Nate said, stressing the ‘K’ in Chuck’s name.
Although handsome and outgoing, something about Chuck rubbed her the wrong way. Victoria had never met him before they’d started filming. She hadn’t liked him then, and over the course of the past six months, his personality hadn’t grown on her. She could tell by Nate’s tone, he didn’t like him much, either.
Chuck turned his nose up at Nate’s suggestion then looked down it, his eyes locking on her chest. “I must say, you’re looking very nice tonight, Victoria.”
Before Victoria could respond, Nate did. “You can say it, but if you don’t direct your eyes somewhere else, and fast, you’ll need to play a blind man for your next role. And it won’t require acting.”
Chuck’s eyes shot up to meet Nate’s, and he backed away a step at what he saw. Even still, he unwisely tried to save face. “Nothing wrong with admiring a woman’s assets, especially when she has them so prominently displayed.”
“For your sake, I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that and give you the chance to walk away. Not because I give two shits about you but because I don’t want to ruin this night for Victoria. And me ending up in jail for assault, would definitely ruin her night. But know this, the next time you put your eyes on what’s mine, I might not be so generous. So back the fuck away.”
Chuck shrugged and tossed back the last of his champagne before saying, “This is a piss poor party, anyway.” He turned on his heel and left.
“And that’s our cue to leave,” Victoria said, watching Chuck’s retreating back.
“This being social is for the birds.”
“Agreed. We do much better one on one.”
The scowl lingering on Nate’s lips transformed into a smirk. “One on one, huh, why does that sound so dirty.”
Victoria couldn’t hold back her laugh. “Because you have a dirty mind.”
Nate hugged her closer, dipping his head so their noses almost touched. “Only when it comes to you.”
“Come on, stud. Let’s get out of here and pick this conversation up at home. I want to be in the right place to take full advantage of your dirty mind.”
Their departure took longer than she would have liked, stopping to say goodbye to the people they passed, but soon they had a clear shot, making a speedy trip down the stairs, Victoria holding tightly to Nate’s hand and the railing.
All hell broke loose as they hit the last step. A girl appeared out of nowhere, shouting, “Oh, my God, you’re Nathan Reed.”
A blur of commotion soon followed. Victoria’s head was yanked back as someone gripped her hair, and her arm was then tugg
ed. Her hand was ripped from Nate’s, and she lost sight of him as he was converged upon.
She heard Nate yell her name, but she was pushed back and to the side as the crowd around Nate grew, and she was too busy trying to keep her footing to even attempt to respond.
It was complete pandemonium. How things had gotten so out of hand so fast, she’d never know, but Victoria did know she had to get out of the way before she was trampled to death.
She took an elbow to the corner of her eye and one to the ribs before two strong arms wrapped around her from behind and broke her free of the crowd. People became a blur as she was scooped up and carried quickly from the club.
≈≈≈
Nate was seething as he stormed to the front entrance of the club, Victoria cradled in his arms. He knew his hold on her was too tight, but for the life of him, he couldn’t get his muscles to ease up. People parted as he approached, no doubt reading his expression and not wanting to fuck with him.
He’d never felt such a surge of panic as when he’d felt Victoria’s hand ripped from his. His need to get to and protect her had him muscling through the crowd not giving a shit who he hurt in the process. The minute it had taken him to reach her had felt the longest of his life. Searching through the sea of faces, looking for the one that meant the world to him, he’d pushed and shoved through the masses.
He’d found her in a crowd of people, looking unharmed and the feeling of relief that had rushed through him as he’d wrapped her in his arms almost had him collapsing. Until a jolt in the back had reminded him he had to get Victoria out of there. Scooping her off her feet, he’d used his shoulder, nudging people aside, to break free from the worst of the crowd.
A bodyguard at the door rushed to open it when he saw Nate approach, and he hit the pavement without a misstep, making a direct path to the valet station.
“I don’t have my ticket. Mine are the keys on thirteen.” Nate gestured to the pegboard with a nod.
“Right away Mr. Reed.” The valet scooped up the keys and jogged into the parking lot.