Bedded Bliss (Found in Oblivion Book 1)

by Cari Quinn

  She raked her fingers through her hair and pulled out her ponytail to let the sea breeze shake out the ridiculous voice that craved trouble.

  Craved Michael.

  Nothing about him made sense. She shouldn’t feel safe in his arms. She shouldn’t want to lean on him. She could only rely on herself. Hadn’t today proven that over and over again?

  She tipped her head up to the sun and took one last deep breath of briny, sea-soaked air before she trudged back up the beach. She wiped off her feet before slipping her shoes back on. It was time to go home. It was Saturday, so she couldn’t call the temp agencies until Monday.

  Until then, she’d reactivate all her profiles on the job sites.

  Three busses later, she got off her usual stop and made the four block hike to her house. The reporters must have figured out her schedule—that or hadn’t gotten their latest scoop. Chloe Adams fired because she’s considered a nuisance, tramp, and gold digger—news at eleven!

  There was only one car across the street. The sun glinted off the telephoto lens sticking out of the driver’s side window. She hoped he or she got a nice shot of her sandy backside.

  Lori’s car was still gone. She could have used a hug from Axl right about now, but a little time to do research before she went back into mommy mode was probably best. She slowed as she got to the top of the driveway. A letter was taped to the door.

  She knew she was up to date on her utilities. There had been a time when those letters had scared the crap out of her. She’d gone to Nick because the city had threatened to turn her power off. Pride goeth before hot water for her son.

  Maybe it’s a letter from Lori.

  Lori used pink sticky notes with cute little unicorns in the corner.

  With shaking fingers, she pulled the letter off the door. It took her three tries to get her key into the lock and open her front door. No need for some lens to read the letter over her shoulder or something.

  She dropped her purse on the end table and ripped the envelope open. Three pages of words melted and jumped all over the place. She had to grab the edge of her couch and suck in a slow breath through her nose and out her mouth as the room tilted back into place.

  One word had been crystal clear. In capitals and a huge block font just to be sure she saw it.

  Eviction.

  She slumped onto the couch and put her head between her knees.

  No. No. No.

  It couldn’t be right.

  Was there a cosmic cloud over her head full of flaming meteorites set on destruction?

  Chloe slid off her couch to the floor. She wrapped her arms around her shins, then pressed her forehead to her knees. The urge to rage and scream was so close to the surface.

  Closer than it had ever been.

  Why? She was a good person. She paid her taxes, started a college fund for her son, donated what she could to animals.

  It wasn’t an astounding life, but she’d at least made her mark on the earth with a beautiful child. So, why did she keep stepping in steaming shit piles every time she turned around?

  She dug out her phone and texted Ivy. Again, her text went through, but didn’t show delivered. Jinx wasn’t exactly her first choice on the disaster front, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  The little bubbles that signified a return text came alive on her screen. Chloe blinked to make sure she wasn’t seeing things.

  JJ: What’s up chica? I’m boarding a plane for Jamaica. Dr. Nerdgasm is amazing.

  Chloe slumped against the couch. Hey, I’m evicted. Can you bail me out? Yeah, that wasn’t exactly the text she could shoot back to one of her best friends as she’s having the time of her life.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Fuckity-fuck-fuck.

  CA: Have the best time! I’m so jealous.

  JJ: I’m going to try. I miss you guys. I’ll be home in ten days, I promise. Maybe fourteen. ;)

  She could call her dad, but his little apartment was an efficiency at best. A bed, a television, and a shower the size of a closet. No place for a child to play. And obviously Lori was out since she was literally her neighbor in the duplex.

  She raked her hands through her hair, pulling at the roots until the pain cleared her stupid head.

  Michael.

  No. No way was she going to ask him.

  He’d help.

  It wasn’t his place to help, dammit. She had to help herself.

  What choice do you have?

  She bounced her head against the cushion of the couch. None. No choice at all without emptying out her savings. First month, last month, security, on no notice? Yeah—thousands of dollars even in the crappiest parts of town. Not to mention moving.

  She forced herself to read the letter. The legal jargon was hard to wade through, but the gist was that she’d become a nuisance. Gee, there was that lovely word again. That the neighbors around her—she’d bet ten dollars it was Mr. Zulinski—had complained enough that her landlord had no choice but to evict her.

  She didn’t want to be a nuisance. She would love to tell the reporters to take a hike, but the more she spoke to them, the more they wanted. The only recourse had been to ignore them. Why wouldn’t it blow up in her face?

  Shocker.

  Well, one thing was for sure. She hadn’t had this problem until Michael. Sure there had been a three-ring circus after Snake died, but it had died down as quickly as it had bubbled up. Michael was a rising star, with a famous family added into the mix. And it had taken two of them to make this mistake.

  She hauled herself up off the floor and up the stairs before she could think about it. She’d talk to him. Maybe she and Axl could crash at his place until she found work. Then she could get a place. Michael kept asking her take advantage of the perks of being married.

  Perks that didn’t include her being naked.

  Though, honestly, that was a damn good one. She pushed that aside for practical matters. She had forty-eight hours to get her life on track. She took a minute to call Lori and update her on the mess. She agreed to take Axl for the night so she could feel out Michael.

  Yeah, you’ll feel him out all right.

  She dragged her old hardback suitcase out of the closet, and ignored that damn voice. Okay so maybe she listened a little when she pulled out matching underwear to toss into the mix of clothes. She only took a few days worth. The rest would have to be packed up. She’d have to use Axl’s savings, but she’d be sure to put the money back as soon as possible.

  She called for a cab. She’d have to use some of her precious last paycheck, but getting a bus to Malibu would take her all night in transfers. She filled her duffel bag with paperwork she thought she might need and hoped that she wasn’t making a colossal mistake.

  By the time the cab arrived, four more cars and a van were out front again.

  An older gentlemen leaned out the window. “You some sort of famous person, lady?”

  Chloe opened the door and shoved her bags in before dropping into the backseat. “No, just someone in the wrong place at the wrong time.” She huffed out a laugh. “About three times now.”

  “Now there’s a story.”

  “A long and rather boring one.” She looked over her shoulder as two cars started following them. She gave the driver Michael’s address as she glanced at his tag. “Carl, there’s an extra twenty in it if you lose them.”

  “Now that’s what I like to hear.”

  There was a small part of her that felt bad for her neighbors, but the rest of her was relieved to leave them in the rearview tonight. She was tired of being selfless today. There was only so many times she could get kicked in the face before she started slapping back.

  It wasn’t a short ride to her husband’s house. God, just the word sounded foreign on her tongue. But if she was going to ask for help, then it was time say the word out loud. Even if she didn’t know exactly what she was going to say when she got to his door.

  They got off the highway and Laguna P
oint’s craggy coastline came into view. The waves crashed and foamed just below them on the winding coastal road. Buildings got ritzier and more glamorous with every turn. By the time Carl pulled up to the address Michael had given her, all the spit had dried in her mouth.

  “Are you sure this is it?”

  “Yep.” He craned his neck up at the apartment complex. “You sure are movin’ on up there, lady.”

  She opened the door, wincing as she read the fare. It took almost half the money in her pocket, but she didn’t short him on the tip. Including the extra twenty she’d promised him. “Thanks.”

  “Pleasure.” He gave her a wink and took the money from the small window. She slung her purse and duffel bag over her shoulder, then dragged her suitcase onto the huge, circular sidewalk. Her driver pulled away right after she shut the door, and she had to stifle the urge to call him back.

  This so couldn’t be right. She could smell the ocean from where she stood, though she couldn’t see it thanks to the monolith of a building in front of her. A huge stone garden with a steel and glass sign told her she was indeed in the right place.

  Laguna Estates.

  The other side of the world from Carson.

  She’d never cared about the way she looked until right then. For God’s sake, she hadn’t even taken time to change out of her work clothes. She tucked her hair behind her ear, wishing for one of her hair ties. She should have taken a shower or made herself a little more presentable—something.

  Gilded glass gleamed out of the shadows, drawing her closer. She crossed the sidewalk to the rocky alcove that shrouded the front door. A woman Chloe’s age strolled through the huge doors, barely glancing at the doorman who held the door open for her. He gave the woman a deferential smile, his posture positively perfect.

  Had Chloe dropped into an alternate reality? She was used to seeing some of this behavior thanks to working on The Strip, but this was crazy.

  The woman wore white from head-to-toe with gold flashing at her ears, fingers, and even her ankles.

  Realization clicked like a flashbulb. Holy shit, that was Victoria Sheer.

  Chloe swung around as the actress passed her by without a hello, a smile, or even a spare look. Shock and awe faded as her suitcase twisted onto its side thanks to her oh so graceful manuever.

  “Can I help you, miss?”

  Chloe stumbled and made a little yelp as the doorman saved her suitcase from scraping over the flagstaff. “Um, hi. Sorry.”

  “That’s quite all right. Are you here for a resident?”

  She shoved her purse back on her shoulder and smiled at him. “Yes.”

  He glanced at her suitcase, but he didn’t betray a single thought about the status of her battered to hell suitcase from her first year at college. He probably thought she should be asking for the service entrance. “His or her name?”

  She blinked. “Right, sorry.” She cleared her throat. “Michael Shawcross.”

  A flash of surprise betrayed his features before they smoothed again.

  “He’s my…friend.”

  Was her wedding ring actually burning a hole against her leg? Hmm.

  He opened the door. “Shall I announce you?”

  “Announce me?”

  “Unless you have a code?”

  “Oh.” Maybe she should have texted Michael before she’d come over. What if someone was up there with him? What if he wasn’t home? Cripes, she hadn’t really thought this through.

  “Your name, miss?”

  “Chloe.”

  “Your last name?”

  Just how pretentious were the people in this building? “Adams.”

  He pressed a button. “Mr. Shawcross? I have a Miss Adams here to see you.”

  “Chloe?”

  “Yes, it’s me.” She leaned closer to the panel inside the door.

  “Send her up.”

  The inside door clicked open. Chloe struggled with her suitcase over the track for the door. The wheels had been tortured with multiple bus rides over the years. They barely rolled.

  “Eighteenth floor, miss.”

  “Thanks.” Chloe spun back around. “What’s your name?”

  “Barney, miss.”

  Her grin widened. “Like Pretty Woman.”

  “As you like.” He winked and turned back to his station.

  Chloe gave a little laugh as she headed across the lobby to the bank of elevators. There were signs for various perks in the building. Dry cleaning, a gym, a pool, and even a café. Fresh coffee at their fingertips each morning?

  Man, talk about living the dream.

  The doors slid open silently, and Chloe stepped across the threshold. It felt like an eternity, but she was blessedly alone in the car. She didn’t have to unleash her babbling on another person for at least a few minutes. The light flashed and a light chime prompted her to get moving as the doors opened. Her suitcase clattered over the track before rolling silently onto the carpeting.

  Michael stood in the hallway. He wore battered jeans, an old T-shirt, and a worried look on his handsome face.

  Nerves jumped around under her skin. What the hell was she doing here? She should totally turn around. This was a mistake. An impulsive, horrifying mistake.

  He came farther down the hall. Her gaze dropped to his unreasonably sexy bare feet. That really wasn’t fair. She’d always had a thing about old denim and bare feet.

  Okay, grab a clue and calm down.

  “Chloe? Is everything okay?”

  “Yes.” No, of course everything wasn’t all right. Her entire life was spiraling into a shitstorm tornado. Just ask him. Spit it out. You can do it. “If it wouldn’t be an imposition.” She swallowed down the huge lump in her throat. “It’s okay to say no or whatever, but do you think I could stay here?”

  Chapter 22

  Either Michael was still dreaming or the universe had flipped over while he was watching a marathon of Roadies. No other way this could be happening.

  When Chloe froze, he met her partway down the hall. She had a duffel bag over one arm and a small dull brown hard shell suitcase by her feet. Even her luggage was plain, modest and without frills, because that was how she lived her life.

  “You want to what?” he asked, needing her to say it again. Only way he could begin to believe she’d decided voluntarily she wanted to live with him.

  “I want to stay over.”

  Ah, the picture was getting clearer. He propped his arm against the wall. “Stay over like what, a sleepover? Maybe we’ll watch movies and do each other’s hair? I know, we can make brownies and talk about boys.”

  She gazed down at her feet, chin trembling, and for one panicked second, he was sure she was going to cry. Then she lifted her head and nailed him with the power of those direct dark eyes.

  “That sounds really fun. I can’t wait to hear about your experiences with boys too. Do you spit or swallow?”

  His eyebrows nearly rose right off his head before he started to laugh. Hard. Damn, this woman. She never gave him an inch.

  And thank God for that. He’d had way too many people act like he was important or impressive just because his dad made tons of money and his mom got married a lot. The rockstar trip was much the same, although that was a mixture of adulation and feeling overlooked, depending on the day or his marital status.

  “Come on in and we’ll talk.” He bent to grab her suitcase and went back up the hall to his door, holding it open so she could pass him.

  “Thanks.” She smoothed back her hair and strode forward, stopping on the threshold to gasp. Almost immediately, she started to back up. “I can’t stay here.”

  He looped his arm around her shoulders to keep her from backing into the hall. She was practically shaking. “Too late. You already asked and you know I can never say no to you. Besides, don’t you want to know if I swallow?” Before she could move, he bent to whisper against her ear, “If it’s you I’m drinking down, the answer is hell fucking yes.”

  Sh
e shut her eyes and just sagged against him. “You didn’t tell me you had a place like this. I mean, I could tell from the doorman, and the ritzy building, and I know you’re in a band and doing well for yourself, but all this?”

  “Take a breath before you pass out, all right?” He nudged her farther inside and closed the door behind her. “You forgot a couple of things. My dad is insanely wealthy and lined my diapers with gold thread, and my mom has married a number of rich men, if you’re making a list.”

  Chloe covered her face with her hand. “Oh God. I shouldn’t have come.”

  “Never say those words. Not in reference to arriving or in reference to, you know, not coming.”

  She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “You’re nuts.”

  “Maybe a little. I’m also really glad you’re here.” He eased her duffel off her shoulder and placed both beside the long, low black leather sofa. “Want a drink?”

  “Is that your solution to everything?”

  “It used to be,” he answered honestly. “But I’ve been dry since after we got married. I meant liquid, non-alcoholic. You know, in case you’re thirsty.”

  “Sorry.” She grasped her throat and didn’t move. “I’m extra touchy today.”

  “Well, that sounds fun.”

  The slightest hint of a smile curved her mouth. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “About the whole marriage thing. It occurs to me I never showed you this.” He withdrew his wallet and flipped it open. “I was waiting for a good time, and then I forgot. But you haven’t seen it, and you should.” He pulled out the folded white piece of paper that had knocked his world on its ear a week ago. “Make copies if you’d like. Have them verified by Johnnie Cochran or some such.”

  “I think he’s dead.”

  “Oh. Too bad.”

  She took the paper and read it silently, chewing on her lower lip. “So that’s how you found my address.”

  “Yeah. Phone number wasn’t much help though.”

  Seeing her smile made all his annoyance at the fake number seem like it was insignificant. Now it was. In only a week’s time, they’d come a long way.