by Duffy, Aimée
Again, he could see the nerves in her expression, in her rigid stance and in the slight trembling of her hand holding the mic. She wasn’t looking at him though; she kept her eyes focused on a spot just above their heads. He’d bet good money that she was trying to block out the audience too.
Annabelle’s voice wavered. She began off key and he could see the panic shining from her eyes. After a second, she closed her eyes and her voice gradually got back on track, then became spectacular.
Miles, yet again, was blown away. By the end of her performance the audience and judges were all on their feet, clapping like seals with OCD, himself included. Dread twisted hard knots around his stomach. He knew, without a doubt, the public would put her through.
If only they knew how hard this would be on her, how hard it already was on her by the way she clammed up at the start of the song. If only the audience knew how she would end up. Would they still put someone as beautiful and precious through all that pressure if they knew she’d be destroyed in the end? Because it was becoming clearer Annabelle was not suffering from mere stage fright.
Mhairi half-jogged back onto the stage when the music stopped and hugged Annabelle around the shoulders. Annabelle’s frame was rigid and her eyes strained. His heart swelled in his chest, and he had the sudden urge to swing her up in his arms and take her away somewhere safe. Somewhere the industry and the media wouldn’t destroy her.
“Wow, Annabelle, what a finale that was! Congratulations, girl.” Mhairi beamed at Annabelle who returned the smile although it was clearly taking an effort to put it there. She looked like a startled colt about to bolt away from a hungry predator.
“Safri, you must be the happiest judge on the panel after that performance.” Mhairi directed her killer, trademark smile toward the judges then.
“Of course I am. That topped every performance we’ve seen tonight. I know Anna will go far in this competition.” The camera focused on Safri and she struck her usual pose—a mix of delight and awe playing across her features.
Miles fisted his hands beneath the table while fear knotted his stomach tighter than before. Annabelle was going through tonight, no doubt about it.
“I have to agree,” Sander muttered reluctantly. “Even though you were shaky at the start, I’d still bet my last cent you make the finals.”
Mhairi and Annabelle turned to Miles then, Mhairi’s expression prompting, Annabelle’s filled with barely concealed terror.
Miles inhaled deeply. “You were amazing once you got past the beginning. I really can’t say any more than that.”
Her face fell and she struggled to regain composure, but he couldn’t regret not elaborating. Encouraging her would only make this harder for her when he tried to persuade her to leave.
* * * *
After a quick conversation and round of congratulations with his lads, Miles went off to do what he did best lately…stalk Annabelle.
He pushed open the door to her dressing room and froze for a moment at the sight before him. She was hunched over her dresser, tremors raking through her body and heart-breaking sobs escaping from her throat.
“Annabelle?” He closed the door and almost tripped in his haste to reach her side. Immediately, she turned her head away from him and swiped at her face with shaky hands. “Annabelle, look at me. Are you okay?”
“Leave me alone, Miles,” she sobbed.
Without thinking, he put an arm around her waist, pulled her off the chair, and pressed her tear-stained face against his chest. Her hair smelled like wild berries with a faint trace of smoke. Her warm body melted into him and her sobs grew louder.
“Shhh, it’s okay. Whatever it is, we can work it out.” His heart bled as he made reassuring sounds and stroked her hair. He’d promise her the world if only to see her smile again.
“I’m…fine…just…” she said between sobs. “I’ll be…fine…in…a minute.”
He hugged her closer and ran his hands up and down her spine. The tremors slowed after a moment, as did her sobbing. Now that he knew she was okay, his mind started to work overtime.
He pulled her back enough to study her red, swollen eyes. Cassie’s had always been almost black when she’d been using drugs, but he couldn’t tell with Annabelle. Her eyes had been closed when she was crying. His forehead creased with frustration. He had no idea whether she was using or not.
“What are you doing?” she asked indignantly, trying to pull away from his hold.
“Have you been taking drugs?” he demanded, unable to stop himself.
Rage burned in her azure eyes, and she pulled away from his tight grip. “How dare you. I would never,” she spat at him and turned to flee from the dressing room.
Relief washed over him as he heard the sincerity in her voice. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” But he was glad he did, otherwise he’d have worried about it all night.
* * * *
Anna spun back to glare at him with all the anger she felt. Where the hell had that come from? They were backstage waiting for the show to come back on to announce the results and she told Safri she needed time alone. The realization of how much she needed this for her family was getting to her; especially since her nerves crippled her at the start of her performance. What kind of pop star could only sing when she closed her eyes and imagined herself somewhere else?
Having to wait an hour to find out whether or not she’d get a second chance was almost unbearable. As was the thought that she’d probably never be able to sing to an audience.
With the bank threatening to repossess their home and what seemed like a million other debtors hounding her family on a daily basis, winning the competition was the only chance she had to save her family.
She’d specifically chosen the small dressing room she’d been allocated because she could feel the breakdown coming. The other judges offered her a glowing commendation on her performance, but not Miles.
She’d been dreading some sarcastic remark, perhaps an insult, but what she got was more like a slap in the face. He didn’t want to add anything more to their critique, couldn’t be bothered to even tell her whether she’d screwed up by botching the beginning.
And now he was accusing her of taking drugs? Sorry or not, she wasn’t taking that from anyone, let alone this stuck-up, controlling man. Her anger piqued.
“Go to hell, Miles.” She stomped out of the room.
She headed straight to the shared toilets down the hall and shut the door behind her. A different kind of pain pierced through her once the rage subsided. Being held in his arms while she cried was the single most amazing feeling she’d ever experienced.
No one other than her family had ever shown her that kind of tenderness. Trying to swallow back the lump in her throat, she slumped against the gray cubicle door and stared at her tear-stained face in the mirror opposite. The dust coating the mirror barely concealed the mascara stains spiking down from her eyes.
What stung the most was that for a moment when she’d been in his arms, he’d made her feel truly cared for, almost cherished, and she enjoyed every second of it. His spicy scent still lingered on her skin. Anna closed her eyes and inhaled.
She liked him. Really liked him—whether he was a control freak or not—and now her confusion all week about the kiss they’d shared turned into a heart-wrenching pain. If Miles Oliver liked her too, he’d have stuck around instead of running off with that dead look in his eyes.
* * * *
An hour later, the judges took their place behind the glitzy podium with large letters spelling Do You Have What It Takes? on the front in jazzy silver font. The audience waited almost silently in the darkness beyond, but Anna couldn’t see them because of the blinding spotlight aimed right at her.
Her heart raced and blood pounded through her veins. She had to reapply all of her makeup after the earlier crying spree, but now, as sweat beaded her forehead, she knew it was all going to be off again soon.
It felt like hours before the cam
eramen were signaled to go live and Mhairi stepped forward to speak into camera two. Anna couldn’t keep her eyes on anyone for any length of time. She went for her fail-safe and stared down a spot on the floor.
“And now for the results you’ve all been waiting for. Who will be going through to next week’s show?” Mhairi’s voice was almost drowned out by the erratic thumping of Anna’s heart. She concentrated on breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth.
Silence fell, and for what seemed like an eternity, Mhairi paused for effect. The suspense was almost painful.
Several names were called, the boys, some girls, and two of the groups. Her nerves were at the breaking point and she needed support. There was no way she’d get through this alone. She sought out Miles reflexively and he was staring at her, his expression strained between hope and fear. Neither she could understand, but she couldn’t look away.
As it turned out, he was the perfect distraction. Her nerves settled as she looked him over properly for the first time that evening. It was the live shows; the whole of Britain was watching tonight, and he was wearing a pair of oversized jeans and a dark shirt which was slightly rumpled and no doubt very expensive. A slight beige smear was spread across his chest and her cheeks heated. His messy brown locks were even more askew than usual, but it only added to his charm.
She didn’t know how, but it made him hotter.
“Annabelle MacIntosh,” Mhairi called her name, and shock froze her wide-eyed for a second. “Congratulations, doll. We’ll see you next week.”
It was all too much. Her emotions were all over the place, and the tension and pressure of the last week bubbled to the forefront of her mind. All that stress, all that worry, and now she’d have to do it all over again.
Tears burned in the back of her eyes. Anna tried to fight them back, but one fat drop rolled down her cheek. Well, her makeup was going to be ruined again. She turned to walk from the stage after Mhairi shook her hand and caught sight of Miles’s expression.
His shoulders were rigid and his jaw tense, but what worried her most of all was the pain she saw shining from his eyes. It looked like he was grieving—for her. What on earth would make him feel that way? As she disappeared backstage, what little joy she felt about getting through drained away and she was left feeling empty and confused.
Chapter 5
Disappointment
“Annabelle, what on earth are you doing on the phone with me? You should be at your party, celebrating with everyone else!” Anna’s mum chirped down the phone.
She walked further into the garden so she could hear her mum over the music pounding out of the house. “Because I miss you, Mum. Gran and Jess too. I wish you were all here.”
And she truly did. Anna still had not managed to befriend any of the other contestants. They either disregarded her because she was chubby and plain-looking, or Jess had a theory that they were jealous of her talent. No, definitely because she was plain and chubby.
“Honey, you told me this was your dream. I thought it would make you happy.” The hurt in her mum’s voice pulled her up short and she felt guilty immediately.
Guilty for not only lying to her family, but for making them think she was having an awful time—regardless of whether it was the truth. If her mum knew she was here to get them all into the black with the bank, she would only fret over it.
“This is my dream, Mum. Remember when I was a little girl and told you and Dad I wanted to be a singer?” Such a long time ago—back when they were happy—right before her dad had nipped that idea in the bud, telling her she’d be better off learning how to be a good wife. Anna believed him. He lied about so much before leaving them all with huge debts and running off to Thailand with his young bride. Anna knew now was the time to take her life into her own hands.
“I know, sweetie. You just sound upset. I wish I could afford to come down for a while.”
“No, Mum.” Anna sat down on the grass at the end of the garden and looked up. The sky was free of clouds and she could see a dim scattering of stars, twinkling through the darkness, but the lights in London shone too brightly to see them as clearly as she could back home. “You don’t have to do that. I’m great, really. It’s just been a long week. I’m tired, that’s all.” Again with the lies, but she didn’t want her mum to worry more. There was no way she could afford to take time off work, not when the bank was threatening to repossess the house.
“Well, get back to the party and enjoy yourself for a night. You’ll feel better in the morning. You should be flying, getting through to the next round.”
“I don’t need to party, Mum. I’m really great. Don’t worry about me. Tell Gran I love her, and I love you too.” She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Miles standing several feet away.
“I love you too, honey. Goodnight.”
Anna got to her feet and wiped her hands over her backside in case she’d gotten covered in grass.
“Eavesdropping?” she asked with a hard edge to her voice. Couldn’t he just leave her alone? It was strange because although she felt a real connection with him earlier in the dressing room—before he’d asked her if she was on drugs at least—his words the first day asking her to walk away still played around the edges of her subconscious.
“Why aren’t you enjoying the party?” He sat down in front of her on the grass, clearly oblivious to her foul mood. “Everyone is celebrating, yet you’re out here on the phone to your mother. Sounds like she wants you to enjoy yourself.” Miles stretched back and leaned on his elbows.
Anna returned to her spot on the grass, facing away from him toward the tall stone wall covered in ivy, enclosing the garden. Flowers were planted at the foot of the wall. In the daylight she could see them better, all the colors of a rainbow. She spent most afternoons out here, rehearsing and admiring the pretty landscape.
She sighed, having no idea how to answer Miles’s question. Why wasn’t she happy? By all rights she should be giddy and hyper and want to party her pants off. Instead, she was wondering why he didn’t want her to get through.
And that really bugged her.
He was the problem, she realized with a start. He was not only killing her buzz, he was also making it very hard to concentrate on anything else. Did he have to be so overbearing? She picked at blades of grass with more vigor than necessary.
“Annabelle, can I ask you a question?” He obviously got the hint that she wouldn’t answer his previous one. After a nod from her, he went on. “Why is this competition so important to you?”
Startled, she turned to face him and almost gasped at the look on his face. The moonlight highlighted his pale skin and the fine worry lines on his forehead. His eyes, shadowed in the dim light, narrowed anxiously. Again, she was utterly baffled as to why he would look at her this way. Was he really worried about her? Why?
Regardless, his apparent concern put a great big chink in her armor and she spoke without thinking. “I want a better life for myself and my family. I want to do that by making something of myself.”
“By singing?” he asked.
“Yes. I’m hardly going to be able to support my mum and gran on a wage from a grocery shop. I know this is going to be hard—and I’m under no illusions that I’ll win—but I’m willing to work at it. I want to get better. I want to succeed.” She spoke fiercely and with a passion he couldn’t possibly understand, but she had to make him see.
There was no way she would fall at the first hurdle. She may not be strong now, but she’d learn to be. She’d learn to be anything if it would mean her mum and gran could live happily and not worry about losing their home.
“Why do you need to support them?” His voice was softer now, and he shifted closer to her on the grass. She could feel the heat reverberating from him and a hint of his spicy scent mixed in with soap sent a shiver of longing through her.
“My dad left us with a ton of debt. Mum and I have tried to work as much as we can. I don’t want her working twenty
-four seven, I’d rather she had time to herself so she could move on and meet someone else.” She tilted her chin to stare back up at the twinkling stars scattered across the night sky. “Singing is the only thing I don’t screw up all that often.”
* * * *
Shit. This was going to be harder than he’d thought. Annabelle was here on a mission and she was determined not to fail. Not only did he have to keep her in the competition under Dave’s orders, but he now understood why she needed to stay in. But surely a person had more than one dream, a back-up plan at least?
“Was singing the only thing you wanted to do?” he asked.
“No.” She turned to him then, her eyes showing her sorrow for what might have been. “I had that dream when I was a little girl. As I grew older, I wanted to teach. Primary school especially, but…” She trailed off and his curiosity piqued.
“So why don’t you go to university? Why not live out your dream?” Any dream other than this, he wanted to say, any dream that wouldn’t put her six feet under before her time.
Her eyes flashed and he saw a spark of angry fire burn in their blue depths. “I can’t. It takes years and I don’t have that kind of time. We’ll have lost our home by then.” She gasped and turned away from him abruptly. “Forget what I said. University is not an option for me. End of story.”
She’d lose her home? An uneasy feeling settled in his stomach. It was clear she cared about her family, but enough to stay here and make herself miserable to help them keep a roof over their heads?
If debt was the only reason she was here, he could help with that. Hell, he doubted he’d ever be able to spend the money in his account in this lifetime, let alone what he had in investments. She’d be able to go to university and live out her dream. Well, one of them at least.
As he looked at Annabelle, her back ramrod straight and her chin held high as she studiously ignored his presence, he knew she wouldn’t willingly accept his money. Not only was she caring and determined, she was also proud. If only there was some way to help without her knowing…