I can hear his labored breathing through the line and take the opportunity to continue my own threats, which are more like promises. “Here’s how this is going to go down. You’re going to leave Skyler alone—”
“Not thinking she’ll like that much, now that, you know, we’ve rekindled our connection.”
I clench my teeth so hard I could crack rocks with them. My heart is ready to explode, and I want to break everything in my line of sight, but I breathe through the pain and anger and speak as clearly and as directly as possible.
“Leave her alone. Let her walk out of that hotel room. Do not contact her ever again. You destroy those images, or I will make sure every media outlet from here to Timbuktu spreads the disgusting truth of how you let a woman die under your care in a filthy underground torture club. Also, I’ll let it be known you’re a drug addict, and I’ll take your parents down for paying your way out of jail on two separate sexual assault charges. You think your mommy and daddy dearest deserve to get thrown to the wolves after having your back? Hmm?”
“You say I’m scum, but you’re no better,” Johan sneers, his accent becoming thicker the angrier he gets.
“That may be. Regardless, you don’t have a choice. Let her go, and stay the fuck out of her life.” I grind out each word as if I’m stabbing him in the chest the same way the knowledge Skyler cheated on me is digging into my soul.
“Johan? What are you doing with my phone?” I hear her sweet but guarded voice in the background.
“You’ve got fifteen minutes to get her out of your room and into the lobby, where her security team will be waiting, or I press ‘Send’ on the email I’ve written to the New York Times. Among others.” I end the call and slam the phone down on the counter.
Picking it back up, I call Nate. “She’ll be in the lobby in fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll bring her back home to you, man,” he assures me.
“No need. I’ll be gone when she arrives. It’s over between us.” On that note, I end the call and chuck the phone at the tiled wall so hard it shatters into pieces, metal bits flying everywhere. Stomping over to my suitcase, I pull on my socks and shoes and close my case.
It’s over. Sky and me. Done. I can’t fathom that she’d rip my heart in half this way. She was supposed to be the one. My one in seven fuckin’ billion. Now what?
Acute rage slithers through my entire body, building like gas contained in a small space, expanding, needing to get out. I grab the first photo I see on the table near the couch. It’s the one of Skyler and me in the pool. She framed it. Put it on the table with all the people she cares about.
A lie.
It’s all a fuckin’ lie.
On a roar, I slam the frame to the ground and stomp it into pieces, the glass and wood splintering. It’s not enough. Without even thinking, I glance at the table of pictures.
All lies! She’s a liar. A liar and a two-bit cheat! On another animalistic cry, I slide my arms down the table, pictures falling to the floor, shattering on impact.
It’s not enough. It will never be enough. Nothing feels this bad. Kayla’s betrayal didn’t destroy me like this. I’ve got to get out of here. I look around and notice the mess. Fuck her! I don’t care. I need a car. I spy my destroyed phone. I didn’t think that through. Picking through the rubble I find the SIM card and tuck it in my pocket. It’s the last lucid thought I have before the black of everything that just happened fills my mind and soul.
Without looking back, I leave Skyler’s penthouse in the sky, planning never to return.
SKYLER
Twelve hours earlier . . .
I glance down at my phone for what feels like the millionth time and read Parker’s message again. He’ll call me tomorrow. Ugh. I’m tired of waiting to talk to him. He said he had some information to give me about Johan and his threats, but I’m still waiting. Tracey is on my case to approve the press releases she’s written regarding the pictures coming out, and I don’t want to do that until I’ve spoken with him. He seems so convinced that whatever Wendy’s found will take this problem off my hands, and the pictures will be safely destroyed with the public none the wiser about my stupidity.
Except Wendy and Parker don’t know Johan. He’d never do something like this without a reason. I may have been young and infatuated when we were together, but that’s not who I am now. I’m stronger. More capable of handling the problems I’m faced with. And I know Johan. Regardless of what Parker might think or suggest, Johan isn’t dangerous. Nevertheless, something major is happening in his life that’s making him strike out at me.
He wants $50 million.
I’ve known Johan for a long time, and he was never that cruel. He may have been aloof, cheated on me repeatedly, and used me for my money, but cruel wasn’t his gig. And when my parents died, he was there for me. Held me close every day through the months when I cried myself into oblivion. Went to the funeral with me and sat with me while I clutched his hand, a tether to the real world when everything felt so surreal. He helped me during my lowest point. Without him in my life, I might have done something worse than drown my sorrows in booze and pills. When I couldn’t function and saw nothing but darkness, Johan lifted me up. Made me better. Helped me to see the light at the end of the tunnel, which, at the time, was my career.
It’s hard to believe he’d blackmail me like this. The sensation I’ve been dreading tugs at my mind, and I purse my lips. I need to talk to him. Face-to-face. Find out why he’s hurting me like this. I walked away from him eighteen months ago and never looked back. He didn’t care. Practically urged me to go. Of course, all of that was after he’d cleaned out our shared house account of every dime it had in it. Thankfully I’d transferred only monthly payments into our combined account and not the money I made from working or I fear he’d have cleaned me out too.
Which is kind of what he’s doing now. He doesn’t know I’m worth several hundred million, more money than I’d ever know what to do with. All I’ve ever wanted was to act in great films, tell beautiful stories with my craft, find a man to love who would love me, and build a life. Have a couple of kids one day and give them all my parents gave me and more.
I sigh at the vision of Parker with a toddler on his shoulders as he touches my pregnant belly with happiness. One day. But I’m afraid the day will never come if I don’t get this situation with Johan settled and him out of my life.
I was so close to telling Parker I’m in love with him. And I know he feels the same about me. I believe it in every breath I hear through the phone, each one of his whispered “Peaches” in my ear, and the way he worships me and my body when we’re making love. He’s everything I want in this world, and I’m not going to let a pissant like Johan and his attempt at extortion ruin that. I don’t want Parker’s lovely mother and happy-go-lucky father to see those tawdry pictures of me and think ill of me. Those pics shouldn’t have been taken. Johan talked me into doing those kinky things because he’s into it, and at the time, I wanted to please him. I don’t have any problems with the kink lifestyle, but after a few forays into it, I know it’s not for me. What Parker and I have when our bodies come together with one another is. It’s everything I need and more. I can’t let anything get in the way of what we have. I’ll pay any dollar amount.
Decision made, I pick up the phone and dial Johan’s cell, feeling confident I can handle this myself. Shockingly he hasn’t changed the number and answers it on the third ring.
“Hello, Skyler. I was expecting you’d call at some point. How are you?” His tone is that of a long-lost friend, not someone who is blackmailing me for more money than most people will ever see in their lifetimes.
I grit my teeth and take a huge breath. “I want to meet you. Now. No lawyers.”
“You going to bring the money? If so, I’ll bring the pictures,” he says nonchalantly, as if he blackmails women every day.
“I want to talk, Johan. Where can I meet you?”
“The St. Regis Hotel.
Room two four two.” He hangs up the phone, apparently without a care in the world.
Instead of turning around and calling the Van Dykens to get me there, I call down to the front desk and have a taxi booked.
Johan holds his hotel room door open wearing a pair of jeans and a blue dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar. His eyes have dark circles around them, and his normally thick dark hair is a lackluster mess atop his head. Even his cheeks are sunken in, making him seem gaunt, skinny even.
“You look like shit,” I observe, storming into the room and tossing my purse and jacket on the couch.
“You, however, do not. Always beautiful, all golden sunshine with great tits, ass, and legs. I’m sure your new beau is enjoying your attributes very much. I know I always did.”
“Really?” I huff. “If you enjoyed them so much, you wouldn’t have been banging half of the models you worked with.”
He tuts. “Water under the bridge. Besides, you’re not here to fluff my ego, and I’m not here to sample your extraordinary wares. Nevertheless, I could very easily be persuaded, as you well know.”
I roll my eyes and gag. “Why are you doing this to me? Blackmailing me?”
He ignores the question. “Blackmail is such an ugly word, don’t you think?”
“I believe it accurately describes what you’re doing to me. Threatening to show inappropriate pictures of me, ones I didn’t know you were taking, in a moment where I was very vulnerable. I trusted you, Johan.” My voice cracks, and he has to know what this is doing to me. If he cared for me at all, he must know.
“And I took care of you, many times if my memory serves. You were always such a hair trigger in the bedroom. Easy to please,” he muses, as if this is a game, ignoring the hurt he’s causing.
Furious, I hold my fists at my sides and let him have it. “Because I loved you!” I holler, wanting to stomp my foot and throw a full-on tantrum the likes of which the world has never seen. However, for my own pride, I barely rein it in.
He frowns. “That is unfortunate, because I’m not capable of love. You figured that out.”
“The hard way. Yes. Yes, I did. Even so, I never thought you were cruel. I know you cared for me. Took care of me through my parents’ deaths . . .”
“I still care for you. It does not, however, change the predicament I’m in. I need money. A lot of it, or my life is in danger. I’ve made some very bad decisions in the past and with some horrible people who plan to hurt me. Take my life if I don’t pay. I have no choice,” he grits out through clenched teeth, and I’m finally putting two and two together. The worry in his eyes, the fear in every word he utters even as he’s trying to hide it. He’s scared. Afraid for his life.
“Johan . . .” I clutch at my chest. “Everyone has a choice,” I gasp, allowing the hurt he’s causing me to filter through my words.
“Not if I want to live. You’re my last resort.” He swallows and clears his throat.
Making a rash decision, I do what my mother would have done. She’d never let someone she cared for live in fear. Even if they hurt her. When she loved someone, she loved them unconditionally. I do as well. With her in my thoughts, I offer something I know I shouldn’t. “Then I’ll help you, because you were there for me when my world went dark. Because at one point I loved you more than anything on this earth. And because I could never live with myself if I walked away and your life was in danger.”
His gaze flies to mine and softens, his shoulders falling in what I imagine is relief. “Skyler . . .” His voice shakes, and he rushes to me and pulls me into a full-body hug. Memories of the time he held me when I was numb to the world after my parents’ deaths come rushing to the surface. His cold nose dips to my shoulder, and beyond my comprehension—for I’ve never, not ever, experienced this type of emotion from Johan—I feel his tears wet my skin.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I hurt you. Thank you. Thank you, Skyler.”
As much as I loathe what he did to me when we were in a relationship and what he’s threatened to do to me now, I feel his agony. He’s lost and scared and going about it the wrong way. It’s up to me to show him real kindness. The same he showed me. “We’ll figure this out. I’ll help you. Let’s start with you telling me who you owe and how much.”
By the time we called for room service last night, we’d already gone through the extraordinarily long list of individuals he owed and who he referred to as very bad guys. It was well after one in the morning, and I was exhausted when we were done. With the press hounding the entrance of the hotel, Johan encouraged me to spend the night in his room, saying he’d take the couch. After compiling the list and working with my broker to pay off each debt—to the tune of $20 million, not $50 million—he handed me the flash drive of pictures, which I pocketed, planning to use a hammer on it when I got home.
He still didn’t tell me what the extra $30 million he’d originally demanded was supposed to be for, but I had a feeling it was to put him in a cushy position because he’d lost his status completely in the modeling and acting industries. When all was said and done, he admitted to me he had a serious drug problem, and I once again agreed to help him by paying for him to be in a drug rehab facility that catered to the rich and famous and kept things anonymous and quiet, so the clients could get clean in peace without worrying about losing their status in the industry. Eventually he agreed to this and thanked me profusely. He also apologized repeatedly for what he had been planning to do.
This morning, my entire body feels as if it’s coated in grime. I didn’t have a chance to shower after a full day at the set before I rushed over here. Knowing Johan won’t mind, I double-check the lock is still in place on the bedroom door, slip into the bathroom, and take a long shower, letting the entire week flow out of my fingertips as the water heats up and eases my tight muscles. When I’m done, I dry off and put my grubby clothes back on, not about to walk out of here in another man’s attire. As it is, the press is going to go crazy when they see me leave a hotel in the same clothes I wore last night.
Grabbing my shoes, I head to the bedroom door and hear Johan on the phone. I eavesdrop, not believing for a second that he’ll be perfectly honest with me about his dealings, but knowing I have the pictures ultimately puts me in the clear—for now. I also know I will have helped someone I once cared very much for. My mother would be proud. Hell, I’m proud of myself. Besides, he was there for me when I needed him, and I feel as though this has returned the favor hundredfold. Now I can go about my life with Parker, knowing I did right by Johan, and in the end, I hope to be able to say he did right by our friendship.
“You son of a bitch!” I hear him yell into the phone. “You say a fucking word—”
I cringe, thinking he’s likely talking to yet another one of his dangerous “very bad guys,” trying to work out the debts with the money I’ve given him.
“Not thinking she’ll like that much, now that, you know, we’ve rekindled our connection,” he says in a tone I recognize as his sexy voice. It does absolutely nothing for me now, but it’s an odd thing to say to a man you owe money to. So much so that I open the door and pad into the area where he’s standing, phone pressed to his ear.
“You say I’m scum, but you’re no better,” he sneers into the phone, and turns around. That’s when I realize he’s holding my phone, not his own.
“Johan? What are you doing with my phone?”
He ignores me, listens intently, and then presses it off, tossing it back onto my purse.
“Who were you talking to?” I demand, knowing instinctually, my heart starting to pound a foreboding beat in my chest.
“Your so-called boyfriend, but I don’t think he’s your man anymore. You’re welcome.” He shivers and makes a gagging sound. “Skyler, you sure know how to pick ’em. First me, then that guy? You’re downgrading, not upgrading. You deserve better.”
I rush over to him and push at his chest with both of my hands, knocking him off his feet to the couch behind him. He fal
ls in a pile of limbs.
“What the fuck have you done?” I screech so loud I hurt my own ears.
“Skyler, the guy is a dick. Threatened me with some shit in my past that would end up getting me killed if it got out.”
My entire body begins to shake uncontrollably. “Oh my God . . . ohmygod! He thinks . . . Jesus!” I grab my phone and notice the texts and the voice mails. Before dialing Parker back, I listen to his messages and slump to the couch, tears in my eyes. Each message strikes a blow to my heart so deep I don’t know how I’m ever going to heal from it.
“He thinks . . . oh no.” My world is crumbling all around me, piece by piece, as my stomach clenches and bile works its way up my throat. I’m barely capable of breathing through it.
“Skyler, what I did was a favor. A thank-you for helping me out. The guy isn’t good enough for you. But you have to go, because he said your security team is down in the lobby waiting.”
I choke out a sob and stand up, grabbing my things. “Johan, never, ever contact me again. I wish you the best, but you’ve ruined my life for the last time. Please, please consider the money I’ve given you as the gift it is and get your life back together.”
“Skyler, no, let’s be friends. We helped each other out, like old times . . .” He follows me to the door of his suite.
I shake my head and spin around, tears falling down my cheeks faster than I can wipe them away. “No. Move on with your life. I already have, although I don’t know how I’m going to clean up this mess with Parker.”
“Fuck him. He’s not worthy,” he states snidely.
“You’re wrong.” My voice is shredded as though I’ve swallowed razor blades. “I’m the one who’s not worthy of him. I love him, and now he thinks I’ve done the worst possible thing a person could do. Cheat.” I gulp down the pain that single word brings to my heart.
I spin around and thank my lucky stars the elevator doors open right away when I press the button.
I’ve hurt the man I love, and I don’t know how to repair it.
San Francisco (International Guy Book 5) Page 14