by Cate Beauman
“Who can say no to extra cantaloupe?”
“Not you.”
They worked side-by-side, as they often did, Jerrod pulling bread from the plastic packaging and Abby prepping fruit. “How did things go with your friends?”
“Good. Better than I expected, actually.” She stopped slicing the bold red strawberries. “They’re pretty upset with the situation, but they’re still in for the show next weekend. All three have assured me this isn’t my fault.”
“It’s not.”
“I feel like it is.”
“Nope. You aren’t responsible for some bullshit article.” He spread a healthy glob of Dijon around the slice of soft multi-grain and layered several slices of meat on top, deciding that now was as good a time as any to move the conversation along. “So I had a chance to talk with Jackson and Ethan a while ago.”
“Oh?” She paused, glancing at him, then added grapes to the bowl.
“We’re going to have to make a few changes—mix things up a little.”
She stopped, her hand resting on the container of cut cantaloupe. “Like what?”
He hated the guarded look that came into her eyes, but he couldn’t blame her for preparing herself for the latest round of changes. Every time they had this conversation, Abby lost another piece of her independence. “Well, we won’t be able to go into the Lily Brand offices for awhile.”
She nodded, her shoulders visibly relaxing as she got back to work. “I figured as much.”
“And after today we’ll probably keep contact with Lily limited to phone conferences.”
Her brows furrowed. “What does that mean exactly?”
“She can’t come to the condo for a while—her or any of your friends.”
“Jerrod—”
“We can’t risk it, Abby. We can’t risk the press following one of them and getting a picture of you. We’re going to move all of the remaining fittings to Ethan Cooke Security. We’ll give you one of the conference rooms to use.”
She stared at him, frustration radiating in her eyes before she looked away and reached for the cling wrap in the drawer to her right.
He digested her stony, pissed off silence and clenched his jaw. Might as well finish it off and give her the rest. “And the upcoming fashion shows are out.”
Her eyes flew to his. “What?”
“They’re out, Abigail.”
“No.” She yanked plastic wrap from the roll and covered the small salad she’d prepared. “No,” she repeated, shoving the box back in the drawer and slamming it closed. “There has to be another—”
His phone rang, cutting her off. He glanced at the readout. “It’s Stone. I need to take this.” He pressed ‘talk,’ looking at Abby as she stared daggers at him. “Quinn.”
“Hey, it’s Stone. Lily popped up at the office. She wants to come over now.”
“Now?” His gaze followed Abby around the small kitchen as she shoved Tupperware containers back in the fridge and yanked a plate from the cupboard.
“I can be there in ten maybe twenty minutes, depending on who’s following me.”
“Yeah, come on over.” He rubbed at his jaw, cursing Lily’s crappy timing. There was no way he and Abby were going to sort this out in the next hour, let alone ten to twenty minutes. She was as mad as he’d ever seen her. “We’ll see you soon.” He hung up. “Lily’s on her way.”
“Fine,” she said coolly as she started toward the bedrooms.
He followed. “Where’re you going?”
She stopped and turned. “I have to change, but don’t think this conversation is over. Not by a long shot.”
“This is where we’re at, Abby.”
“No discussions, just this is the way it is.”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Pretty much.”
Her nostrils flared with her exhale, and she whirled, leaving him staring as she walked away.
~~~~
Abby sat across from Lily at the dining room table, picking at the Chinese food Lily had insisted they order. She caught another whiff of her boss’s garlicky chicken dish and shuddered, pressing a hand to her nauseas stomach. The idea of eating was more than she could handle after the long day of troubling events. First Toni Torrell’s article, then Jerrod’s lunchtime bomb. No visitors to the house. No fashion shows. More changes she couldn’t control.
Sighing, she glanced at Jerrod as he sat on the couch, watching football, chowing down on eggrolls. He looked over his shoulder, and their eyes met before she stared down at the shrimp and sautéed veggies on her plate. This entire situation wasn’t his fault. Somewhere deep down she understood that, yet she couldn’t banish her anger. Every time Jerrod, Jackson, and Ethan ‘changed things up,’ she lost more freedom. Luckily, Lily was amazing and willing to go along with the latest round of precautions Jerrod had laid out while they waited for their food to arrive, but she herself wasn’t. At the rate these new measures kept falling into place, she would be confined to her bedroom by the end of January, which would ultimately make her as much a prisoner here as she had been in the stash house.
“…that’s taken care of. I’ve talked to them as well, so we’ll move forward as planned.”
Abby set down her fork, shaking her head as she realized Lily was talking. “I’m sorry, what?”
Lily smoothed back her sleek cap of silver hair as she huffed out an impatient breath. “Abby, you’re all over the place this afternoon.”
She winced. “I know. I apologize.”
“I said we should plan to move forward since the girls are all set. This is actually a great opportunity for them to make a statement.”
Abby nodded. “I agree. Toni’s article is crap. She doesn’t get to make them feel like they’re worthless.”
“Certainly not. And she won’t, especially by the time I’m finished with this.” Lily stabbed a peapod and popped it in her mouth with a smirking smile.
“I hate that I can’t be there. I hate that I have to sit back while the four of you take the heat alone.”
Lily snagged her hand and squeezed. “I’ve dealt with bigger problems than this. Your safety is more important than giving that bitch the finger.”
“I want to give her the finger.” Abby squeezed back, returning the gesture of support. How could she put into words the desperate need to do something? She stood, no longer able to sit. “I want to strut down the runway with my friends and tell Toni to go to hell. I’m so sick of living in this bubble.” She gestured to her surroundings. “I hate that I’m always a step removed.”
“Which is a huge fucking improvement, Abigail.” Lily gave her a firm nod. “Not all that long ago you were more than happy to hide out in the background.”
“No.” Abby shook her head. “Not happy too, just afraid to do otherwise.”
“As you had every right to be.”
“But I’m not so afraid anymore.”
“Damn right you’re not.”
Abby returned Lily’s smile. Her fifty-something boss, with all her Botox and collagen injections, trademark stylish black-framed glasses, and top-notch wardrobe, was one of the strongest women she knew. She couldn’t help but feel more powerful in Lily’s commanding presence.
“This whole thing will be over soon, and you’ll have your spotlight back, my dear. I have plans for you—very big plans. In fact, I want you at my party tomorrow night in San Francisco.”
Abby’s eyes grew wide with the idea. How long had it been since she’d been to a real function? Parties had been limited to gatherings at Ethan and Sarah’s. “Yes—”
“Uh, Lily.” The TV switched off as Jerrod got to his feet and walked to the table. “That’s not going to work.”
“Sure it will. It’s a very low-key deal—just a few of my good friends at the penthouse for dinner.”
“I’m guessing there will be some big names among those good friends.”
“Well, yes of course, but this isn’t a media event. I would never invite Abby if I didn’t think she
would be perfectly safe. You can use the private jet, and I’ll have a car pick you up at the airport.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets as he gave Lily a shake of his head. “That sounds good, but we’re going to have to pass. There’s a little more involved with a security detail than that.”
Abby glanced from Lily to Jerrod, then stared at the floor, balling her hands into fists as she listened to him make more decisions regarding her life without asking or considering what she wanted or needed. “I’m going.”
The room fell silent.
“I’m going,” she repeated as she looked up, locking eyes with Jerrod’s.
“I need to use the restroom.” Lily scooted her chair back. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“Sure,” Jerrod said, never taking his calm, steady eyes from hers.
Abby waited for Lily to close the door to the half bath. “What are you doing?”
“My job.”
“What about mine? I have a job to do too.” On a frustrated huff, she skirted the bar and walked into the kitchen, grabbing several Tupperware pieces from the cupboard, needing something to do as she grew angrier.
He followed. “I’m sorry, Abby, but the party’s out.”
His calm apologies stoked her irritation higher. “No,” she mumbled on her way back to the table.
He stopped at her side, leaning his head closer to hers. “What?”
She set the plastic down with a weighty snap. “I said no.”
“I wasn’t giving you an option. As head of your security I’m telling you you’re not going.”
Her hands shook with the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins—part fury, part fear—as she dumped the contents of the take-out box into the container. This was her first confrontation with a man since her early days in the stash house. Even so, she continued on, trying to remember that Jerrod would never hurt her. “And I’m telling you I am.”
“Abigail—”
“Don’t ‘Abigail’ me in that school teacher tone of yours.” She smashed the lid on top. “Two hours ago you told me I can’t have my boss and friends over for the foreseeable future. If I want to finish my alterations for Fashion Week, I have to cart my stuff over to Ethan Cooke Security and inconvenience the models. Now you’re telling me I can’t attend a simple dinner party? What else, Jerrod? What else are you going to ask of me?”
“Whatever I have to,” he said with a hint of apology.
She dismissed the tone of regret. “I’ve gone along with everything you’ve asked. Everything since day one.”
“I know.”
“Don’t you get it? Don’t you understand that every time we take a step back he wins? Renzo never gets to win again.”
“I don’t—”
“I didn’t ask for what I got.” She walked to the fridge and shoved the leftovers away. “I didn’t ask to be thrown into the back of a van and have everything change. I’m trying to pick up the pieces of my life.”
“They’re trying to end your life, Abigail. Their goal is to see you dead.”
She swallowed, knowing he was right. “If I spend the rest of my life hiding, I might as well be dead. I’ll meet the models at the office. I’ll even miss Saturday’s show, but I’m going to Lily’s party tomorrow night and to the mentoring event Wednesday afternoon. If I have to attend on my own I will.” She shoved passed him and walked to the windows across the room, staring out at the sun starting its decent, trying to find the reins on the temper she hadn’t set free in so long. Spewing her frustrations had been somewhat liberating, but even more, it had been wrong. “I’m sorry,” she said, turning, but Jerrod was gone.
Lily’s heels echoed on the flooring as she joined Abby. “Feel better now?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“You look a little lighter without all of that on your chest.”
“I don’t like being unkind. I know he’s doing this for me…” She closed her eyes, again on the verge of tears.
“He’s a big, strong man. He can take a little heat from time to time.”
“But he doesn’t deserve it.” She crossed her arms at her chest, attempting to rub away the chills she felt despite her navy blue sweater. “I’m so done with this. All of it. I’m a survivor, yet everyone still sees me as the poor, fragile woman who was abducted into the sex trade.”
“Bullshit. Since when do you let other people define you? You and me, we define the world. You remember that.” Lily kissed her cheek. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow night if Jerrod thinks it’s safe enough after all.”
“Yeah. Okay.” She nodded as Jerrod stepped into the room, shoving his phone back in its holder.
“Ready, Lily?” He looked at Abby as he spoke.
“I am.” Lily put on her coat and Jerrod walked her to the door.
Abby slipped away to her room, too raw to do anything more than lie on her bed and close her eyes against her throbbing headache.
Chapter Six
Abby sat among fashion’s biggest names in Lily’s luxurious dining room, certain she was having some sort of over-the-top, awesome dream. For surely that’s what tonight was—a step onto the pages of one of Livy’s enchanted storybooks.
Dashing princes and princesses laughed and chatted while feasting on the land’s top fares. White roses in simple crystal vases and dozens of creamy tapers decorated the long table, adding to the magic of the fairytale-like atmosphere. And here she was among the gentry, feeling like the queen in the golden hewed halter dress Lily surprised her with earlier in the afternoon.
Ethan brought by a Lily Brand box containing the stunning, barely there dress with its short silky skirt, cinched waist, and ornately beaded top that plunged deep in the front and left her back bare. She’d matched it with three-inch heels and dangling earrings, and had curled her hair, twisting the shoulder-length black up in a loose updo. The end result was jaw-dropping.
Abby glanced to her right, still struggling to believe she was seated next to Tyler Maxfield, one of her biggest idols. She wasn’t a stranger to fashion’s elite. She’d posed for pictures and had shaken hands on her trips to New York City, Paris, and Milan during her college days, but it had never been like this. She’d been too busy surviving in the stash house, then hiding in her condo to enjoy the fruits of Lily’s thirty years in the industry.
Jerrod chuckled, and she looked to her left, smiling, relieved that he was having a good time while he finished his thick cut of prime rib and spoke with Lina Brovera, Spain’s fashion darling. He was gorgeous in his tux, his tough build accentuated by the tailored fit of his jacket. And he meshed well with Lily’s A-list guests. The evening couldn’t be any more perfect.
“Are you finished, madam?” the waiter asked as he stopped at her side.
“Yes, thank you.”
He reached down and took her plate of barely touched salmon.
“Thank you,” she said again as he moved to take Jerrod’s dish and walked away.
Jerrod leaned in close, his arm brushing hers. “You hardly ate anything.”
The heat of his breath feathered her ear, sending a rush of goose bumps along her skin. She turned her head in defense, her face mere inches from his as they held each other’s gaze. “I know.” She bit her lip and smiled. “I’m too excited. I’ve actually been talking to Tyler Maxfield. I used to imitate his designs, now I’m having in-depth conversations as if we’re on the same playing field.”
“Aren’t you?”
She chuckled at the idea. “I wish.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. You definitely held your own.”
“Aw, thanks, big guy.” She smoothed his lapel, relieved that they seemed to be okay after yesterday’s disagreement, even though she had yet to apologize. She’d tried more than once, but he’d been on the phone late into last night and all day today, setting up the details for their evening in San Francisco.
“Excuse me, sir, madam. Your desserts—a chocolate tower with vanilla buttercream drizzle.” The w
aiter set two tall slices of cake in front of them.
“Holy cow, this looks amazing.” Abby eyed the mousse-like frosting stacked between four layers of dark chocolate. “Excuse me, is that ganache?”
“Yes, a truffle ganache, madam.” He stepped away to present two more desserts.
“Is this heaven?”
Jerrod grinned. “We should probably dig in.” He picked up his fork and took a bite. “Wow,” he said with his mouth full.
“That good?”
“Definitely.”
“Is it so delicious you’re glad we came even though getting here was kind of a pain?”
He flashed her another smile. “Pretty close.” He cut another bite, surprising her when he held the fork to her lips. “Try it.”
She sampled his offering, closing her eyes as creamy chocolate melted on her tongue. “Oh my god. This has to be illegal.”
“It’s a possibility.”
She laughed as she picked up her own silverware and enjoyed another taste of pure heaven.
“Excuse me.” Lily stood at the head of the table, pretty in her fitted off-the-shoulder black dress, tapping her knife against her glass. “May I have everyone’s attention please?”
The crowd of thirty quieted.
“Thank you.” She picked up her wine glass and sipped. “I thought I should take a moment to thank you all for coming. It’s rare that so many of us are in the same place at the same time, so I love that we’ve had this chance to get together and catch up.”
Everyone clapped.
Lily smiled, giving a small nod, commanding the room to settle again. “At times like this, having close friends at my side is a comfort. As you know, Lily Brand has faced a couple of rough days in the media.”
Troubled murmurs carried through the dining room as Abby glanced around, struggling not to squirm with the rush of guilt swamping her.
“The Times and Toni Torrell have quite brazenly spewed very serious accusations at the expense of three talented models.”
Abby picked up her water, swallowing a long, cool sip, certain everyone somehow knew that she was at the root of Lily’s problems.