Fame & Obsession (Lords Of Lyre Book 1)

by Cora Kenborn

  All the breath left my lungs from the impact. Time was a commodity I couldn’t afford, so I gave him something he wasn’t expecting. Honesty. “I love her too, man,” I wheezed.

  His jaw clenched. “Your life is out there for everyone to pick apart, Julian. Nothing you do is private. Is that what you want for her—constant public scrutiny?”

  Arguing was getting me nowhere and neighbors were poking their heads out of their apartment doors as our voices rose. Running my hands over my face, I asked the question without looking up. “Just tell me what happened to her. Please.”

  He started to protest then stopped and looked over his shoulder toward her bedroom. Sighing, he lowered his voice. “I don’t know. She took her meds like usual. She seemed fine until she came out of her room acting crazy…” He trailed off, his face grimacing at the memory.

  I’ll kill that bitch.

  I should’ve had security guarding her apartment too. I’d never forgive myself for letting it get to this point. The images created by Harlow and the police—I’d live with them in my head forever.

  “Is she going to be all right?” I asked, fearing his answer.

  His stubborn resolve returned. “I’ve said enough. If she decides to tell you, that’s her choice.”

  What the hell did that mean?

  “God, what’s wrong with you, man? Are you jealous?” I was close to losing control.

  “I’m not jealous of you, Bale,” he countered solemnly. “I pity you when you find out what you’ve missed.”

  “Missed?” I probed. “Is she with someone else? Is she with Nate Jacobs?”

  “Jesus.” He pressed his lips together and shut his eyes. When they opened, a cold calm resided within them. “Just let them live their life in peace.”

  “Them?”

  “Forget it.” He slammed the door, and I heard the distinct sound of the lock engaged.

  Furious, I reached out to bang again when I remembered Phoebe’s bedroom faced the street and the fire escape passed right outside her window.

  This was far from over.

  Chapter Thirty

  Phoebe

  Curling my knees into my chest, I wrapped my arms around my stomach. The tank top and skimpy boy shorts I wore made me imagine what would be there in a few months. I wouldn’t be able to hide behind big shirts and elastic waistbands forever.

  God help me if I ever ran into Julian once I wore maternity clothes.

  When I’d decided to tell him about the baby at the book party, I allowed his anger and resentment to push me away. I knew he didn’t care about me, but I at least owed him the truth. Mostly to let him know I didn’t expect anything from him, nor did I want it. He was free to live out his rock star dreams.

  Seeing him with Vivian drove that resolve home. He’d said he was with her to protect me, but, at that point, did it really matter? Julian Bale didn’t want diapers, bottles, and car seats. He wanted groupies, parties, and the limelight. If I stood in his way, he’d only end up resenting both of us.

  There was a faint register of commotion in the hallway, but I just pulled my pillow over my head and shut out the world. Everything set me off these days. Because of the pregnancy, I had to go off all my medication, leaving my nerves raw and exposed.

  The shouting I’d been listening to escalated outside my door. I almost got up to make sure Gage and Parker were all right when a door slammed and everything calmed. I’d almost dozed into a light sleep when I heard the door rustling to my left. Sighing, I turned my face inward and called out from under the pillow.

  “Gage, I don’t want to talk, please go away.”

  “That’s not going to happen, Phoebe.”

  Every part of me came alive. Apparently, my brain couldn’t force my body to stop reacting to him any more than my heart could. Still, I was scared to turn over and face him. “Julian, what are you doing here? Did you break in my window?”

  He crawled onto the mattress behind me. From the corner of my eyes, I saw him reach a hand out to touch my hip and pull back at the last second. The loss felt insurmountable.

  “I had to see you. Are you all right?” The bed shook, as if his arms had trouble supporting his own weight.

  This is my time to tell him.

  “I have to talk to you, Julian. God, I have so much to tell you that”—my voice broke—“I should’ve told you a month ago.” I’d tell him, but not lying next to him like some big happy family. I needed space. Shifting off the bed, I grabbed the window pane and slammed it shut. I could’ve sworn I’d locked it.

  As I turned back around, we spoke simultaneously.

  “Vivian’s dead.” he said.

  “I’m pregnant,” I confessed.

  “What?” we both shouted at each other.

  “What the hell did you just say?” Julian whispered as the color drained from his cheeks.

  “What do you mean she’s dead? I just saw you two together. How can she be dead, Julian?” I knew what I wanted to ask him, I just couldn’t get the words out. My breathing became erratic, and I knew I was headed toward a panic attack.

  Julian interrupted with a commanding tone. “Phoebe, stop! Breathe, damn it. Talk to me.”

  He was confused, and I couldn’t blame him. If he felt a fraction as lost as I did when I’d heard those words, then the ceiling was crashing down on him.

  “I’m pregnant, Julian,” I repeated softly as his green eyes pulled me in, drowning me.

  He looked as though the wind had been knocked out of him. Cursing, he rubbed a hand across his mouth. “You’re pregnant?” Julian grabbed the sides of his head as he waited for the answer he already knew. No sound could be heard in the small room except for his heavy breathing.

  Finally, deciding it was now or never, I took a few steps toward him. If he was going to tell me to go to hell, he had to say it to my face. “That’s what I was trying to tell you at the book party. I should’ve told you a long time ago. But I swear to you, Julian, I had a good reason for keeping it from you.” Wrapping my arms around my chest, I tried to warm the inherent chill inside of me. Here he was, just like I’d dreamed so many nights. But the fantasy was absolutely better than the reality.

  The confirmation seemed to sink in and he stared at me blankly. “I don’t know what to fucking say. How did this happen?” he asked, raising his voice.

  I flinched at the harshness of his tone. “Yes, I’m fine, thanks for asking.” He had the decency to look apologetic, so I continued. “I don’t know, Julian. Birth control pills are only reliable ninety-nine percent of the time. Surprise, guess who fell into that one percent range?”

  His eyes looked exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept peacefully in days. The dark circles under his eyes told the same story. “Okay, let’s try this again. You said you had a good reason for not telling me. Let’s hear it.”

  I took a deep breath and trained my eyes on him. “All right, but you have to listen to everything before interrupting. Promise?” He nodded, and I paced. “Do you remember when I left Helena’s office? After you kicked me out?”

  I proceeded to tell him everything—the anxiety attack, the pills, the hospital, the baby, and why I chose not to tell him. I attempted to explain in detail my vow to protect him and our baby from another attack by giving his stalker what she wanted—me out of the way. I’d hated to give in to her psychosis but more important things were at stake. I also told him how I’d tried to tell him at the book party but he’d been with Vivian and walked out on me. I made sure to emphasize the last part for my own benefit. When I’d finished my confessional, I paused mid-pace and waited for a response.

  “How…how do you feel?” he stammered. “I mean, are you okay?”

  “I’m okay,” I assured him with a faint smile. “I won’t lie and say it hasn’t taken me a while to get here. I fell apart when they told me in the hospital. I never had any intention of becoming a mother at twenty-two.”

  Julian swallowed the lump in his throat, and remained motionless. �
��Phoebe, is it…”

  Ice shot through my veins. The fact he would ask such a question infuriated me. “I shouldn’t dignify that with a response. But I’ll humor you.” I walked away from him, my arms crossing protectively over my belly. “There hasn’t been anyone else since the day I met you. It’s only been you, Julian.”

  He pressed his palms to his face. “You didn’t let me finish. I meant, is it okay? Is the baby all right?”

  My voice cracked as a tear escaped. “Yeah, it’s fine. I’m nine weeks.”

  The breath left his body. “A baby.”

  “Your baby.”

  “My baby.”

  “Our baby.”

  I paused to let him absorb the bomb I’d dropped. Still unsure of myself and craving his touch, I leaned down to the bed and closed my hand around his. The lines on his face softened and his head slumped into his hands.

  “Fuck, this is all my fault. If I hadn’t pushed you away that night, she wouldn’t have gotten to you.” He punched my pillow with such force, I expected to see cotton flying everywhere. “I could’ve stopped all this!”

  “Julian, who is she? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “My stalker,” he said, enraged. “The text before we got to Helena’s was a threat against you, Phoebe. That noise was a gunshot meant for you. The bitch defiled my car with a warning for you. I didn’t say anything because I thought I was protecting you.”

  “You can’t take the blame for this!” I argued.

  But he kept on. “All that shit with Vinyl happened and I wanted to call you, I swear to God, I did,” he said, pulling me onto the bed. He placed a hand on either side of my face. “But I was too stubborn. Then Vivian acted all fucking psycho, and I swore it was her.”

  “Vivian’s your stalker? Wait, did you say she’s dead?” The impact of his words finally hit me. “Julian, what’s going on? God, I’m so confused.”

  “I thought so. She’d been making cryptic threats toward you, so I took her to the MetroGroup party so I could watch her. She couldn’t hurt you if she was with me.” He squeezed my face with determined force. “I’ve been fucking miserable without you, and Ty convinced me to tell you. But I didn’t want to tell you things were going to change, I wanted to show you.”

  I started to move, sobered and terrified by the new information. “Then let’s go. I’m sure I’m going to be questioned soon, and if she killed Vivian, we both know who’s next. Let’s stop this bitch once and for all, Julian. I’m not sitting around waiting for her to make the next move.”

  He grabbed my hand, exhaling a heavy breath. “We will, but can I please hold you? I need to feel for myself that you’re okay.” He leaned back against the headboard and closed his eyes. “Vivian may have had some not-so-great qualities, but I can’t stop thinking about her dying alone like that. She didn’t deserve it, Phoebe. No matter what she did.”

  My soul shattered. He looked broken, and I didn’t know how to fix him. I nodded and crawled up his chest, laying my head against his heart. As I listened to the lull of its cadence, he told me how a detective had come to his house, informing him that Vivian was found murdered in my neighborhood. The news carved an invisible set of gashes in my stomach as his words rolled around in my psyche.

  “What now?” I whispered, looking up at him. “I don’t want to die.” I rubbed my stomach. “Jesus, not like that.”

  He kissed my forehead. “No one is going to touch you, princess. I promise. I’ve finally filed a stalking report.”

  “Julian,” I uncontrollably sobbed. He called me princess again. I hadn’t heard it in so long, and for the first time, that word evoked hope instead of hate.

  Rolling us over, he dropped his lips to my bare stomach, his eyes damp with emotion. A dark mix of fear and heat took my breath away. He slid off of the bed and brought both of us to our feet, suffocating me with a molten stare.

  Inches between us closed in a breath, and he claimed my lips with such force that I stumbled into the wall. He followed and deepened his kiss. Sliding his hands down my neck, his fingers traced the indentations that still resided above my hips. Unable to resist him, I grasped the back of his head and fisted his hair. He released a low, subtle groan as he slightly lifted me. Somehow I managed to croak out his name when a rare pause in his kisses had his lips trailing my neck.

  “Julian, is this appropriate? I mean, with Vivian and everything?”

  Barely moving his mouth away, he mumbled in a raspy voice, “Probably not. But when I think about it, I hurt. I don’t want to hurt anymore, Phoebe. I need you to make the pain stop. I need you.”

  I nodded as his lips connected to my neck again, running a path of fire against my skin. His fingers singed me, burning imprints into my body wherever they landed. He slowly brought his lips to my ear and whispered so low I strained to hear him.

  “Clothes off…now.” His hand encircled my waist and drew me against his hard chest.

  I fell right back into our old banter. “Or what?”

  He drew a husky breath and picked me up. Our bodies molded together, and his arousal pressed into my stomach. His lips lowered against my shoulder, lightly kissing and trailing along my collar bone. I groaned as he walked me backward until my spine hit the wall. Slowly lowering my legs, he worked my elastic shorts down my thighs then stood up as heated skin ignited.

  “Come back to me, Phoebe,” he whispered through the scruff brushing my temple. “You make me whole.”

  His words rocked me as he turned my back to his front, and plunged his hands under the fabric of my tank top, coaxing another moan out of me. I struggled to find my voice.

  “Show me,” I finally mumbled. Leaving one hand against my breast, he dropped the other below my stomach and pulled me hard against him. Our bodies molded together perfectly, his hardness to my softness.

  Against my bare skin, his cock begged for attention, and I pressed harder against him. He lowered the straps of my tank and impatiently pushed it off of my shoulders. Still facing away from him, my hands wove back against his neck, pulling his face close to mine. Soft groans accompanied each wicked inhale of his chest as both hands skimmed down my hips and disappeared.

  Expertly, he created a line of fire that brought desperate whimpers tumbling incoherently from my mouth. When he raked his finger over an already lit fuse, I cried out and went limp against him. Without mercy, he continued his torture until my throaty scream echoed in the room.

  “Fuck, no more waiting.” The rustle of fabric registered in my ears as his pants hit the floor. Impulsively, he pushed me against the wall. My palms braced for impact as he lifted me with expert precision. “Hold on to me,” he commanded with a growl.

  I readily obeyed him, securing one arm around the back of his head as he gave a heated thrust. I grabbed a fistful of his hair, the force of his possession rendering me speechless.

  “Did that show you enough, princess?”

  Before I could respond, his thrusts escalated. The room spun as I tumbled from the height of desire. The unique way he drove me to complete exhaustion wove together with need in a tapestry of screams. “Julian…god!”

  He tensed, his rapid breathing blowing across my hair. Giving a final plunge, he laced his fingers through my hair, and rushed a kiss past my waiting lips. With a ravaged groan, the pressure inside him released, and he stilled to a reverent calm.

  We were both panting hard, and our skin glistened with perspiration as he mumbled against my hair. “Are you all right? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  I lifted a hand behind me and ran it down his cheek. “No. That was…”

  “Fucking intense.”

  “That works,” I agreed.

  Julian nuzzled my neck. Breaking away from his hold, I gingerly turned around, catching an emotionally depleted look in his eyes. I sighed, and placed soft kisses across his chest. “What’re we gonna do? She’s not giving up. You know that, right? She stabbed Vivian seven times.” The words made me wince. “That’s a m
essage to me.”

  “I have a few ideas,” he said thoughtfully. “We’re not alone. We’ve got the New York and Jersey Police on this now. Tonight, I just want to think about you, okay?” Without another word, he cradled me against him, gently laying me on the bed. He followed, pulling me into his arms.

  Julian?” I asked again, nerves hitting me.

  “Yeah?”

  “I don’t expect anything from you. I’m okay with raising this baby by myself.” My head rested on his chest as I watched his other hand cup my stomach and swirl a gentle circular motion.

  “I love you, you know.” His hand stilled and he held his breath. The ease of the words falling from his lips faltered me for a moment.

  I didn’t hesitate, wanting to preserve the raw honesty of the moment for once in our relationship. “I love you too,” I whispered as he pressed a small kiss below the third scar.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Julian

  “I just don’t see why we have to do this now, Julian.”

  I glanced back as we got out of the taxi the next morning and headed up the steps to the main building. “Because Helena is still spinning bullshit about you slandering me—or don’t you want to stay in Ellison Young’s good graces?”

  “That doesn’t mean she won’t fire me,” Phoebe warned, powerwalking through the lobby.

  “If she fires you, then I’ll pay back the advance, and MetroGroup can shove the book up their asses,” I said, weaving my fingers through hers. Stares and gasps swirled around us as we moved through the throngs of people.

  “It’s not that simple, Julian.”

  We headed toward the elevators when a flash of light caught my eye. Leaning back, I caught a streak of jeans and black shirt as a lone paparazzi moved around the column, snapping at least ten photos of Phoebe. Harlow’s words about making her live a life of public scrutiny ran through my head.

  Releasing her hand, I cursed under my breath and made my way toward him. No one would objectify her around me—especially now that I knew what was at stake. The last thing we needed was my stalker with access to fresh pictures.