Ruined

by Shiloh Walker

  The rumor mill would spin nonetheless and by the time she got home, the tabloids would be spouting off shit like maybe a Martian had impregnated her.

  “Maybe they’ll be decent and at least make it Matt Damon,” she grumbled as she trailed along next to Sebastien.

  “What?”

  She could have kicked herself. The problem with being an only child is that sometimes you just talk to yourself. It was a habit she’d developed in childhood and when she was tired or stressed, she lapsed back into it. Tonight, she was tired and stressed and now she was irritated to boot.

  Feeling his eyes on her, she managed a shrug. “The way things are going, people are going to figure out what’s going on and when the news hits the tabloids, I’ll be lucky if they don’t have a Martian pegged as the father.”

  “Ah . . . and you’re hoping they go with Matt Damon.” He crooked a grin at her. “Well, he’s better than the Looney Toons version. Although, you and Marvin would have made an interesting couple.”

  It startled a laugh out of her. As they stopped by his car, she glanced over at him.

  He was staring at her.

  Her heart skipped a few beats and she hurriedly looked away. He had the door open for her and she ducked inside but instead of closing the door, he knelt down, staring in at her. “Are you feeling okay now?”

  His voice was soft and the darkness wrapped around them, creating the illusion of intimacy where there was none.

  She managed to hide the shiver, but if she kept looking at him, she was going to lean toward him. Touch him. Kiss him. Her body was humming now that he was near again. Acting out scenes when she was wearing little more than a pair of underwear was never what she could call intimate, even with Sebastien.

  At least before.

  Now, though . . .

  Today had been an exercise in erotic torture and patience. She’d had to think about things like nursing bras and whether she’d like a girl or a boy and whether she’d keep working once the baby was born—while still keeping her brain on the task at hand. Enough to keep tuned in, yet not enough to let her body get too into it. It was a fine line to walk but she’d managed to keep all the need trapped down inside her body.

  Now that he was here . . .

  Averting her gaze, she focused on the darkness spreading out in front of the window. “I’m fine, Sebastien. I’m just tired. It’s hard to sleep sometimes and it’s catching up to me, that’s all.”

  His hand brushed hers.

  “You ever going to look at me in the eye again, Marin? Ever going to talk to me?”

  The emotion throbbing in his voice had a knot swelling in her throat.

  Talk to him . . . look at him . . .

  She needed to talk to him. She had to tell him.

  She opened her mouth to do just that when he continued. “I mean, I get that it’s not going to happen. I know you don’t . . . Hell, we’re not going to happen. You’re with Dash, you’re carrying his baby, but we used to be friends. You’re probably the best friend I’ve got. Did I totally destroy that?”

  “Sebastien . . .” Closing her eyes, she floundered for how to tell him what she needed to say.

  He took the silence the wrong way.

  “Fine. Okay. I get it. I . . . yeah. I’m sorry I was such a bastard, Marin. Really.” He shut the door with a little more force than needed and she groaned, covering her face with her hand. She went to say something when he climbed in, but again, he was already talking. “At least send Dash a message. Let him know so he doesn’t hear about it from somebody else.”

  Irritated all over again, she snapped, “I don’t have to check in with Dash or anybody else. I’m fine.”

  A taut silence hung between them, shattered only when Sebastien started the car. The powerful engine roared to life before settling into a purr as he threw it into reverse.

  The entire drive was made in silence and Marin kept her face turned from his.

  Mentally, she walked through what she needed to do.

  This had gone on too long and she had to put an end to it.

  Her heart ached every time she saw him and if she didn’t so something soon, it was only going to make it worse.

  He thought he had put some giant wedge between them, but in reality, she was creating one, just by not finding a way to tell him. The longer she waited the harder it would get, too.

  As the lights of the hotel came into view, she looked over at him. “Sebastien, would you—”

  The music blaring from his phone interrupted her. Sebastien picked the phone up from the console, eyed it before dropping it. She thought for a moment, he wasn’t going to answer and she breathed out a sigh of relief.

  But then she mentally started to swear up and down as he tapped a button on the steering wheel.

  The soft, throaty voice that rolled out made Marin see red.

  Evie Taylor wasn’t exactly a woman Marin didn’t like.

  Generally, Marin was an easy-going woman so while. Evie might be considered a prima donna, the two women got along well. But Evie was also a determined predator in Prada and everybody knew she’d set her sights on Sebastien. She was playing the sister in the movie and she had a lot of scenes with Marin. Every so often, Evie would ask about him . . . or one of the other brothers.

  Marin had gotten tired of the questions about the brothers. She was as protective of them—and their wives—as if she were part of the family. She’d told Evie she was wasting her time on Sebastien’s brothers. They were stupid in love with their wives and when she’d mentioned Travis, Marin had just laughed. You won’t ever see him.

  So that had just made her that much more focused on Sebastien.

  “I was wondering if you might be interested in grabbing a bite to eat.”

  Say no. Marin stared at the console, thinking so loud it was a miracle Sebastien didn’t hear her.

  Or maybe he did. Maybe he laughed and chuckled and chatted with Evie just to piss Marin off.

  She had no idea.

  But by the time the call ended, Sebastien had made plans for Evie to meet him out in front of the hotel.

  So much for you taking me up to my room, staying with me. She was tempted to sulk and point out that he was supposed to be taking care of her, hello!

  But she was feeling fine and she’d sound like a whiny brat if she went and did a one-eighty after telling him she was okay.

  “You sure you’re feeling okay?” he asked, checking his mirror before pulling into the valet area in front of the hotel. It was crowded but he managed to work his way straight up to the front. And what a surprise . . . Evie was already out there.

  Oversized glasses hiding her face and dark red hair pulled back into a loose braid. Evie started walking toward the car with a smile on her lips. Even seeing Marin didn’t make her pause, although Marin saw her brow arch up.

  “I’m fine,” Marin said, gritting her teeth. Emotions raged inside her, everything from hurt to jealousy. She didn’t know if she wanted to cry or just turn to him and smack him. “You two have a nice . . . time.”

  She almost said something pithy, but managed to keep it behind her teeth.

  Sebastien was already out of the car by the time she had gotten her purse from the floor, but he didn’t go straight to Evie. Nope, Sebastien’s parents had raised a gentleman and he was right there, opening the door before she had a chance and offering a hand.

  She ignored it, pettiness creeping in to snuggle right up to hurt and jealousy. “You go on over to Evie, Seb.” Offering a chilly smile, she said, “I’m hungry and tired. Don’t mind me.”

  “You never did text Dash.”

  Fuck Dash.

  He must have seen something in her eyes because he went to say something but before he got it out, Evie appeared at their side. “Are you ready, Sebastien?”

  A moment pulse
d between them and Marin had a weak hope that he might tell Evie he’d changed his mind.

  But he didn’t.

  He just nodded.

  “Text him,” he said again.

  Kiss my ass, she thought as she cut around him.

  She headed straight for the doors, ignoring the staff who whisked them open for her. If she hadn’t been pregnant, her first stop would have been the bar.

  As it was, she stopped by the desk and put in a request for a meal. Since she couldn’t drink, she was going to eat. Fortunately for her temper, morning sickness had finally picked a time of day—the morning. So she was going to pig out on something terrible to eat and top it off with ice cream.

  Maybe it would help burn off this temper.

  She doubted it, but she was still going to try.

  ***

  Sebastien had accepted Evie’s offer for one reason and one only. So he wouldn’t be tempted to go up to the hotel room with Marin. She’d been feeling better, anybody could see that.

  If he’d gone up with her . . .

  Since he didn’t want to cross the lines he’d drawn for himself, he’d accepted Evie’s offer. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of the look he’d seen in Marin’s eyes when he opened her car door, but he’d long ago figured out that while he thought he knew Marin Lassiter fairly well, he would never understand her.

  Evie settled back in the seat while tension hummed in the air. Before she could say anything to break the silence—and he could hear it coming—he reached out and punched a button on the dashboard. When the automated voice came up, he gave Evie a quick smile. Gimme a minute, okay?

  She smiled back, shifting to face him.

  “Call Dash,” he told the voice.

  The voice operated system was quiet a moment and then it asked, “Call Zach?”

  “No.” Rolling his eyes, he said, “Call Dash. Dash Harlow.”

  After another pause, the voice offered, “Say one after the tone, if you’d like to call Zach. Say two if you’d like me to call Mom at home. Say three—”

  “You stupid piece of shit.” Irritated, he picked up his phone and held it out to Evie who was laughing at this point. “Can you find his number in my contacts?”

  A minute later, Dash’s voice was coming through the speakers, although Sebastien could barely hear him. What was he doing?

  “Hey, Seb . . . what are you up to, man?”

  “I could say the same to you.” Irritated but determined not to show it, he asked, “Have you talked to Marin?”

  “What . . . oh, yeah. She sent a . . .” There was another voice, followed by Dash’s again. “Hold on a minute, okay?”

  Sebastien clenched his teeth, the grip he had on his anger becoming more strained by the minute. When Dash finally came back on the line, it was notably quieter and Dash sounded a little less distracted. “You there?” the other man asked.

  “Yeah. I never went anywhere. You able to talk without . . . distraction now?”

  “Oh, yeah. There weren’t any distractions anyway. Save for the noise.”

  Sebastien might have believed him if it hadn’t been for the voice. A low, male voice. And that wouldn’t have stood out, except for the fact that Dash was bi. The voice cut off abruptly and Dash was level and calm when he said, “You asked about Marin—yeah, I talked to her. She said she had a spell, but you got her to the hotel and she’s fine. Was there anything else?”

  “No. I just . . . well, I figured you’d want to know.” Because he didn’t want Dash saying something that would end up all over the set, he added, “Anyway, Evie is in the car with me. We’re heading out to get some food, but you know how Marin gets. Stubborn and all.”

  A taut few seconds passed and then Dash said, “She’s fine, Sebastien. We spoke not that long ago, okay?”

  So why aren’t you there with her instead of out at some club?

  Because that’s where Dash was, he knew it.

  “Okay.” He didn’t punch the console like he wanted. Wouldn’t have done anything except hurt his hand. “Talk to you tomorrow.”

  He cut off the call before Dash’s response came through and looked over at Evie.

  She stroked a hand up his arm. “So . . . now that you’ve done the nice guy thing, how about we go do something not so . . . nice?”

  He came to a stop at a red light and Evie undid her seat belt, leaning over to murmur in his ear. Any red-blooded man worth his salt would have been all over that idea.

  “So . . . what do you think?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The sound of a fist pounding hard and heavy against the door brought Marin out of a deep, dreamless sleep.

  Dazed, she looked around, her eyes landing on the clock on the nightstand, staring at it in confusion.

  “What the hell?”

  Another knock.

  Confused, she stared at the numbers glowing in front of her. It was two in the fricking morning. Why would somebody wake her up at two a.m.?

  But the fist pounded on her door again.

  So either the building was on fire or somebody wanted to die. That was all she could figure out. Pushing upright, she knuckled at her eyes and when somebody knocked again, she shouted, “If the building ain’t on fire, then you just stop that right now!”

  Some might have been appalled at the twang that came out. She didn’t mind the southern drawl that sometimes crept out in her voice when she was worn out. Of course that wasn’t a drawl. That was just pure Tennessee bitch right there and she was so tired, she didn’t care if anybody heard the echoes of her upbringing just then.

  Sighing, she got out of bed and grabbed the robe from the foot of it, shuffling toward the dim glow coming from the lavish living room area. She had one of the elegant suites and the place was more like a small apartment than a hotel room, but that meant it was a walk to the door. When the knock came again, she set her jaw.

  “If you knock on that door one more time—”

  She opened it mid-sentence and stopped when she saw Dash standing there.

  And he wasn’t alone.

  A tall man stood behind him, one who was almost insanely hot, in a nerve-wracking sort of way. She might have been scared if she wasn’t so tired. Ignoring tall, dark and scary, she focused on Dash. Jabbing him in the chest, she said, “Knock on the door one more time, buddy, and I’ll set you on your ass. The one night I actually managed to get to sleep and I haven’t had heartburn or anything else and you decide you’re going to wake me up at two in the morning?”

  She hadn’t had any more “spells” as Sebastien had called them since the last one nearly three weeks before. They were almost halfway done with filming. Marin was just over three months pregnant and according to her OB, she was almost past the rough spots that hit during the first trimester.

  True, she wasn’t getting sick at all hours of the day, or even in the mornings all that much. But she was exhausted and nausea still came and went. And the heartburn . . . man.

  The exhaustion was the worse, though, and it didn’t help that she was stressed out like never before.

  She was still trying to talk to Sebastien, but lately, he was hanging around Evie and she knew for a fact the man was trying to avoid her. Maybe he hadn’t told her outright, but she could read the writing on the wall.

  It might as well read:

  I’m not talking to you, Marin.

  The last time she’d tried to talk to him, it was like he had sensed her presence—or maybe it was just Evie being Evie—the two of them had leaned closer together and when the woman had gone to kiss him, Marin felt like she’d been punched in the throat.

  That had been four days earlier and each day of shooting scenes with him had been horrible. Sojo was even getting on her now.

  Which might account for her being so pissed off now, although she doubted it. Marin
never liked being woken up, even at a decent hour.

  Two a.m.? Not decent. Completely not decent.

  But Dash didn’t seem perturbed. The guy behind him looked around a little nervously, though. Marin might have been amused by the sight of a guy who stood close to seven feet tall glancing around like he thought somebody might jump out from behind a corner and attack him.

  Dash braced his hands on the door jam and leaned in, his eyes half wild. “Know who called me about thirty minutes ago, darling? Again?”

  Oh, hell.

  Marin shoved a hand through her hair. “I already told you, ignore him!”

  “It’s getting kind of hard to do that when I’m this close to getting laid and the phone starts ringing every ten minutes!” he snapped. “This is the third weekend in a row! What happened, did you stub a toe in your last shoot of the day? Why in the hell is he bugging me about a body pillow?”

  That startled a laugh out of her, which didn’t impress Dash much. He swore, his eyes widening until she could see the whites all around the loveliness of his irises. “Don’t you dare laugh about this!” he said, pointing a finger toward her nose. “I’m getting blue balls over this mess. Bad enough that he’s got it in his head that . . .”

  He stopped, hissing out a breath.

  “Hey, Dash . . .” The big guy from behind him shifted from one foot to another. “Look, you ain’t gotta go talking like that.”

  “Henry, it’s fine,” he bit off.

  Henry didn’t seem to think so. He drew himself up to his full height and Marin blinked, a little impressed. Wow. He really was huge. “Look, I just don’t think you need to go talking to Ms. Lassiter like that. It ain’t her fault that guy kept calling you. I . . . Man, I didn’t know we were coming to see her.” He smiled at her bashfully and added, almost nervously, “I loved you in your last movie—the one with Sebastien Barnes? I hope you do another one with him.”

  The sincerity in his voice kept her from laughing, although the outright insanity of this whole debacle was about ready to do her in. “Thank you . . . Henry, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He glanced around and then leaned, almost conspiratorially. “Ignore Dash. He’s just pissed because we were . . . well . . . having fun and he had to go an’ answer the phone. I told him not to, but . . .”