My eyes widened. I’d never heard Viktor talk about Mama in anything less than glowing terms. And I wasn’t looking forward to the stream of messages that Mama would leave for me when I didn’t pick up her inevitable calls.
“So what do you say? Can I have the job?”
“Here.” Gabe arrived on the porch with three cups of coffee.
I took one gratefully and watched as Viktor accepted one from Gabe.
“Viktor would like to be my bodyguard,” I told Gabe.
“What do you think?” he asked. He flicked a wary gaze at Viktor, but his voice was gentle, like he genuinely wanted to know what I thought.
I felt myself soften a little. It meant so much to me that Gabe trusted my judgment when so few people in my life took the opportunity to ask my opinion.
“I think he’s qualified,” I told Gabe.
“True.”
It was a bit nasty of me to be talking about Viktor while he was standing right there, but I was still smarting from his previous treatment of me.
Viktor cleared his throat. “I’d be here to protect you, not comment on your social life.” He nodded at Gabe. It wasn’t so much an apology for his earlier behavior, but a grudging acceptance of Gabe’s presence in my life. “I trust you, Chloe. You’re a damn lot smarter than your mother ever was.”
Hiding a grin, I set the coffee on the ground then stood up. That was enough for me. I was certain Viktor would see what a decent guy Gabe was with a bit of time. “It’s settled then. You’re hired!”
“HAVE YOU ALWAYS LIVED by yourself?” I asked the next evening as I took in Faith’s open-plan kitchen area.
I was still getting my head around her house—or lack of house. The four-bedroom home was tiny compared to my mother’s ostentatious estate. It was cozy and comfortable, decorated in a Hamptons style. It was the exact opposite to the house I’d expected Faith to live in. I’d thought she’d go for something modern, all clean lines and hard edges.
“I lived with a few girls after my mother died, but figured out pretty quickly thatI’m not good at sharing.”
I kept forgetting that Faith hadn’t had the upbringing I had. Although we were both child stars, Faith had come from a poorer background, and when she became famous she supported her mother. She never mentioned her father. I wasn’t even sure if she knew who he was and the media didn’t know either.
Faith’s mom had died of a drug overdose when Faith was seventeen and left her with nothing. All the money Faith had earned had been spent on clothes, jewelry, parties and drugs. Her mother hadn’t even thought to buy them a house and they’d been renting.
“It’s not what you were expecting, is it?” Faith asked.
“It’s lovely,” I told her honestly. “I’m going to like it here.”
“But you don’t think it suits me.”
“I didn’t say that.” Alright, I’d thought it.
Faith shrugged and went to stand in front of the French doors, which overlooked a cottage-style garden. “I like it.”
“Then that’s all that matters.”
Faith didn’t say anything else so I took the chance to look around the living area adjoining the kitchen. It felt like the living room of a real home. And how much of a precious Hollywood princess was I to think that?
It was small in comparison to anything I’d grown up with. Two light-blue double-seater sofas sat arranged in an L-shape around a coffee table painted a distressed white. On the wall opposite was a pair of matching bookshelves. I walked over to the shelves. There was an absence of photos in Faith’s house but the books were interesting. I scanned her collection. There was a curious mix of fiction, self-help and non-fiction.
“Woodwork for beginners. In all your spare time,” I joked.
Faith nodded outside. “I built the deck.”
“You what?” I joined her at the window. The deck she was referring to was about ten foot by thirteen foot and had a pretty white table setting on it. “Wow. I’m impressed. I don’t think I’ve ever even picked up a hammer.”
“I enjoy it. It’s good stress relief and when you build a deck you mainly use a nail gun.”
I grinned. “Now that sounds more like it.” I could imagine Faith with a nail gun. “My folks aren’t exactly practical, so I never would have learned how to do any of that growing up.”
Faith’s eyes darkened. “I didn’t either. I taught myself.” She turned and walked to the kitchen.
I watched Faith switch the kettle on, aware I’d put my foot in my mouth without meaning to.
Faith got two cups out of the cupboard. “Up to you which room you have. They’re all set up with beds and bathrooms.”
“Thanks. I’ll try not to bother you. And thanks for agreeing to let Viktor hang around.” As cozy as the Beverly Hills house was, it was situated on generous grounds and equipped with an impressive security system and a gatehouse from where Faith’s security team worked. That was where Viktor was now.
“It’s no problem. Have you got any clothes yet?”
I grimaced. “Only what my stylist has dropped off. I’ll probably make do until a day or so before we leave for Paris.” That way when I went home to pack and inevitably ran into my mother, I’d be leaving the country not long after. It wouldn’t matter if she begged me to stay, I wouldn’t be here.
I still hadn’t spoken to Damon. I’d messaged him several times to say I was sorry and asked if we could talk but he hadn’t replied. I’d texted him one more time to say I wouldn’t be home until after Europe, but again, no reply.
I was so lost in my thoughts I barely noticed when Faith pushed a steaming mug in front of me.
“Drink,” she said, demonstrating her Faith Martin version of hospitality.
“Thanks.”
She looked at me over the rim of her cup. “What sort of house are you going to look for?”
“Honestly? I’ve never really thought about it.”
“Seriously? You’ve got plenty of money, you could have whatever you wanted.”
“It’s never really felt like my money,” I admitted.
“What? Because of your mother?” The dark look returned. “That needs to change.”
“Oh, I know,” I agreed. “From now on a lot’s going to be different. I’ve already fired Mama’s publicist and I’m talking to a couple of new ones. I’m investigating financial advisors, too.”
Faith sat her mug down. “That’s more like it. When have you found the time for that?”
I blushed. Between filming and Gabe, I’d been busy. “In my trailer between takes.”
“Good. I’m proud of you, Chloe.”
I blinked.
“What?” Faith shot me a wry smile. “Can’t I be motherly, or doesn’t that suit me either?”
“No, it suits you.” More than she knew. “I want to find a new agent as well.”
Faith whistled. “You’re putting your big-girl panties on. Any reason?”
“I want different roles. Maybe even an action movie like you did a few years back. Or something on Broadway.”
“That’s kind of a broad brief.”
I shrugged. “I’ve done Broadway before and I’d like to do it again. An action movie would round out my experience and maybe open up other roles long-term.”
“You’ve thought a lot about this.” Once again Faith sounded impressed.
I let out a short laugh. “Yeah, in the last twenty-four hours or so.”
Faith gave me a questioning look.
“It was a conversation I had with Gabe. He asked me what I wanted.” I shrugged again, but I felt self-conscious this time. “He’s the first one to ever really ask me that and it got me thinking.”
“Damn, Chloe. I’m sorry.”
I waved a hand at her. “Don’t be. I’ve hardly had a horrible upbringing. It’s just been a bit sheltered, that’s all.”
“Well, it doesn’t need to be anymore, you got that? I know Drumsticks has your back, but so do I.”
“I
know.” My cell buzzed where I’d left it on the counter.
Faith winked. “That will be him now.”
I’d messaged Gabe earlier to let him know I’d arrived safely at Faith’s. I didn’t bother to hide my smile and reached for it. My smile froze and my thumb hovered over the button to unlock it, but I didn’t. I couldn’t.
The message was from an unknown number.
Chapter 33
Faith was at my side in an instant. “Is it another one?”
“I think so.” I still hadn’t unlocked the phone.
I wanted to cry or scream with frustration. Why? Why wouldn’t this person leave me alone?
Faith waited quietly while I stared at my cell. Big-girl panties indeed. I unlocked it.
It was the same as all the others: 1 attachment.
I hesitated and recalled how Gabe and I had made love in his bedroom. There weren’t any blinds on the window even if I’d wanted more privacy. No. Surely whoever this was hadn’t gotten that close to me?
I swallowed a wave of nausea and forced myself to open the attachment.
“I’ll be damned.” That was Faith.
Relief that I was not in the picture was quickly swamped with helplessness.
“That’s your brother, right?”
“Yes.” I could barely speak.
“Who’s he getting friendly with?”
Friendly was being polite. My brother had his tongue down the guy’s throat. My eyes widened in horror. “Oh my God. That’s Emilio.”
“Holy shit.”
I closed my eyes. Not because I was sickened by the image, but because I was sickened by what the image would mean for Damon.
“There’s a message too.”
I forced my eyes to open and scrolled down.
You’re not the only one I’ve been watching. Leave him or I’ll sell this to the media.
MARC STUDIED THE IMAGE and message on my phone. “There’s no doubt this stalker harbors personal feelings for one of you.”
“Stalker?” I said weakly.
Faith had called Marc straight away and he’d arrived an hour later. Whatever bad feelings I had about dragging him out of bed and away from Lena was replaced by relief upon seeing him.
“Highly likely.” At my distressed expression, he continued, “Keep in mind it’s a term that covers a wide range of situations. This person has still made no move to get to you personally.”
I knew Marc was trying to be reassuring, but this time I found I couldn’t quite believe him. Yes, this person, whoever it was, hadn’t threatened me physically, but he was threatening those I loved. Anger flared but was snuffed out a moment later. Exhaustion settled on my shoulders, and with it a sense of defeat.
“I assume he’s referring to Gabe,” I said.
“Yes, I don’t think there’s any other way to interpret it. Does he know?”
“No.” I sighed deeply. “But he will. Soon,” I promised.
“Good. It’s good you’ve got Viktor here, too. Make sure him or someone else is watching you around the clock.”
Viktor stood in the corner of the room listening and he nodded. “We’ll sort it out.”
Only a few days ago I’d been annoyed by his presence. Now I was grateful for it.
“Good,” Marc said again. “There’s not a lot else I can do right now, so try to get some sleep and I’ll be in contact tomorrow.”
I nodded. “What about the message?”
“What about it?”
“If I don’t leave Gabe, they’ll release the picture.”
“Do you want to leave Gabe?”
“No!”
“Then don’t leave Gabe.”
“But the picture!”
“Start planning a PR strategy now,” Marc advised.
“That’s it?”
“If this person is a male, unfortunately he doesn’t want to share you. Even if you do leave Gabe, the next time you do something he doesn’t like, or show interest in someone he doesn’t like, he might release it.”
I nodded. It made sense in a sick, twisted way. “But if this person is a female and I split up with Gabe, then maybe she’ll leave us alone?” I asked hopefully—too hopefully.
Marc put a hand on my shoulder. “But you said yourself, you don’t want to leave Gabe. Talk to your brother and this Emilio guy. Prepare them. Leave the rest of it to me and I’ll be in touch.”
I thanked him and watched him go. Talk to my brother? Easier said than done.
BUT FIRST I HAD TO talk to Gabe.
I asked Viktor to drive me to Gabe’s place the following evening after we were done filming. Never mind it was after eleven by the time we arrived. I didn’t want to wait any longer. I already felt like I’d let things get out of hand as it was.
I told Gabe I wanted to see him but I couldn’t stay, and he seemed fine with that. Like me, he was probably replaying in his mind what we had done a couple of nights ago. Oh, how I wished that was what my visit was about.
“Hey.” Gabe was waiting on the front steps for me when we drove up.
“Hey.” I walked into his arms and let him hold me. It felt good. Reassuring. I didn’t let myself enjoy it for too long though and eased back. “We need to talk.”
Gabe frowned. “Sure. Sounds ominous. What’s up?” He held the door open for me and we went inside while Viktor remained in the car.
We didn’t speak while I followed him to the open-plan kitchen area. I stood next to his wooden dining table like it was a deserted island and I was lost at sea.
“Hey,” he said again, and took me in his arms. He rested his chin on my head while I breathed him in. “Is it your mother?”
God, I wish. I’d almost forgotten about that entire mess in the last twenty-four hours.
“No,” I said miserably. “I think I have a stalker.”
Gabe stiffened. “A stalker?”
“Yes. He’s been sending me messages.”
“What sort of messages?” Gabe stepped back, his hands gripping my hips.
I looked at my feet. I was wearing Nikes because I always wore my Nikes to and from the studio.
“Chloe?”
I bit my lip and met his concerned gaze. “He’s sending me images. Of me. Of us.”
Gabe’s fingers dug into my sides. “When?” he demanded. His voice was soft but there was no mistaking the tone. He was pissed.
“The first one was of us on your yacht, then another one at the restaurant.”
Gabe swore and let go, shoving a hand roughly through his hair. “Why are you only telling me this now?”
“Because . . . because I hoped it was just a one-off and that it would go away,” I said quietly. I was close to tears. Damon had been right. I should have told Gabe about it straight away rather than keeping it to myself.
Gabe started pacing the kitchen. “So someone has been spying on us and taking pictures?”
“Yes. There are messages too.”
Gabe stopped pacing and turned to me, his hands clenching in the hair on the back of his head. “What do they say?”
“That whoever it is has been watching me.”
Gabe dropped his hands. “Us, Chloe. They’ve been watching us.”
“My brother and Emilio as well.”
Gabe frowned.
“That was the latest message. Last night. Let me show you.” I reached for my cell in the handbag I’d set down on the table, my hand shaking. When I found the message, I handed the phone to him.
Gabe’s eyes widened in shock then narrowed. “Son of a bitch. Show me the others.”
I took the phone from him and found the others. The unknown number had been different each time. Gabe studied them, his eyes still narrowed. When he was done, he set the phone down on the table, gripping it so hard I could see the taut muscles in his arm.
“Dammit, Chloe.” His voice was soft, but it was the disappointment it held that hurt the most. “Why did you keep this to yourself?”
“I was going to tell you,
the day Damon and I were here. That’s why I wanted to come, but then . . .”
Gabe sighed. “Your mother.”
“Yes. I know it’s no excuse, but like I said, I was hoping it would just go away.”
Gabe sighed again, then snarled and gave the table leg a swift kick.
I jumped and took a step back, and Gabe blew out a long breath, the anger gone as quickly as it had come.
He held up a hand. “I’m sorry, OK? It’s just fucked up. Please tell me you’ve at least told someone else about this.”
“Yes. Viktor and Faith know, and Lena’s partner Marc, who is a security specialist, is looking into it. My brother too, but he doesn’t know about this latest message.”
Gabe nodded, a muscle twitching in his jaw.
I cleared my throat. “Marc recommends you should get a bodyguard and some security. Just in case.”
Gabe strode to the window overlooking the rear of his property and rested his arms and forehead on the glass. “I hate this.” I almost didn’t hear him his voice was so soft.
I nodded although he couldn’t see me. “I know you like to keep a low profile and I’m sorry. This is probably the last thing you want.” I wasn’t sure if I could feel any worse right now. Because of me, Gabe would have to change his life in ways that invaded his privacy.
“No, not that.” Gabe pushed away from the window and came to stand in front of me. “You.” He cradled my face in his hands. “I can’t bear the thought of something happening to you.”
“I’m fine,” I reassured him. Mostly. “I know I told you I was used to the attention, but not this. This is . . . ”
“Fucked.”
“Yeah. And I’m so sorry you have to change things because of me. I’d understand if it was too much, if you wanted to take a step back and—”
“Hang on a minute.” Gabe tilted my chin up so I was looking at him. “Is that what you think of me, Chloe Kemp?”
“I . . . ” I sighed. “No, of course not. But if this isn’t for you, I’d totally get it.”
His mouth quirked. “Not for me? You say that like you’re an ice cream flavor. Here let me check.”
He planted his lips on mine and it wasn’t long before I thought that maybe I was an ice cream flavor the way he was kissing me.
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