I hang my head but keep a tight hold of my cock as I come down from my one-handed pleasure escapade, wishing it were my girl and not my own hand. I figure she’ll be home soon. She has to be. They often go late at the set, and I know they were wrapping today, but this is ridiculous.
Maybe they had to reshoot some scenes.
Taking hold of my bodywash—the last time I was here, my girl had stocked up on all of my preferred products—I pour some into my palm and quickly wash the grime of the day along with any remnants of my hand job from my body.
Tired as fuck, I dry myself off with one of her fluffy towels and drop it into the hamper on my way out of the bathroom. I walk naked through her home and find my phone in my jacket pocket. Uncaring about my nudity, knowing Skyler won’t give one flying fuck, I head back to her bed, pull the covers back, and roll onto my side. I go to my favorites, press her number, and let it ring. Instead of a tired “Hey, honey,” as I would expect, it goes to voice mail.
“You’ve reached Skyler. Leave a message after the beep, and I’ll give you a ring when I’m available.” Her chipper voice mail greeting finishes.
“Peaches, it’s me. Wanted to surprise you, but you’re not home. I’m naked in your bed, waiting for you. Come and get me.” I dip my voice seductively at the end and grin before hanging up. I set the phone ringer for high volume and toss it on the bed beside me in case she calls back.
I’m dead to the world in a second flat.
My standard alarm on my phone goes off at six a.m. on the dot, and I pat the bed, looking for my phone. Shit, I should have turned it off before falling asleep. I knife up, find it blaring in the empty space next to me. Skyler’s side of the bed is still empty. She didn’t come home. I rub the grit and sleep from my eyes and realize I’ve had less than four hours of sleep, but she should have been home.
I tap the display on my phone and note she hasn’t called me back. No text, no voice mail, nothing. Since I left a voice mail for her, I can’t tell whether or not she’s even had a chance to listen to it.
What the fucking fuck?
A knot of tension pounds against my tired brain, and I rub at my temples. I frown and punch her number. It rings several times before her voice mail picks up again.
“Call me ASAP. I’m at your house, and you’re not here. I’m worried.”
Then I bring up the text feature and text her.
To: Peaches
From: Parker Ellis
Left you messages. You didn’t come home last night. I’m at your house. Call me soon as you get this.
I sigh and flop back on the bed before I go to the display once more and pull up Nate Van Dyken.
To: Nate Van Dyken
From: Parker Ellis
Sky still on set? I’m at her house.
I get out of bed, pad out to my suitcase, and get a clean pair of underwear and slip it on. Next, I pull on a pair of jeans, grab a Red Sox T-shirt, and tug it on. My phone buzzes when I’m on my way into the kitchen to start the coffee. Only it’s not Skyler; it’s Nate.
“Ellis, it’s Nate.” He speaks gruffly into the phone. “We saw Skyler home last night at five p.m. She stated she would not be going anywhere and would not need our services.”
My heart starts pounding in my chest. “Five yesterday? I got here at two this morning, and she wasn’t here. Bed unmade, house quiet. She’s not been home.”
“Fuck! I’m tracking her cell phone now.” His voice is firm yet controlled.
Not capable of any normal brain function, worried out of my gourd about Skyler, I lean against the kitchen counter, gripping the bullnose edge and listening to Nate’s breathing as he does his thing.
“Says here she’s at St. Regis Hotel right here in New York.”
The pounding at my temples presses in, and I frown. “Why the fuck would she be at a hotel when she lives in the city?”
“I don’t know. I’ll head down there, see what I can find out. Scare a few people.”
“I’m coming with . . . ,” I grate through my teeth, heading to my suitcase to get my socks and shoes.
“No, you’re going to keep calling her and wait at home in case she shows up. Rach and I are on this. We’ll get your girl. Stay put.”
I grind my molars down so hard they might turn to sawdust in my mouth. “You have no idea what you’re asking me to do. I can’t just sit here,” I growl, making my intent perfectly clear.
“You’re not. Call her phone again in ten minutes. We’ll be at the hotel in twenty. If I think something nefarious is going down, I’ll have the cops on it and call you immediately.”
Swallowing down the sour taste in my mouth, I close my eyes tight. “Fine. Get there.” I hang up the phone and start to pace. When the clock reads seven minutes later, I say, “Fuck it,” and dial her number. It rings almost as many times as it would if the voice mail were going to pick up when a man’s deep voice answers.
“Hello?” he says sleepily.
“Who the fuck is this?” My voice is harsh and brooking no argument.
“Johan. Who the fuck is this?” he responds in kind.
My heart leaps into my throat at the man’s name. “Where’s Skyler?”
The man chuckles. Actually. Laughs. In. My. Ear. “Taking a quick shower. What’s it to you? You the boyfriend?”
“Yes,” I grind out, my heart pounding, sweat prickling at my hairline. “Put her on the phone.”
“Man, she’s washing off a rather fun-filled evening, and if I were going to bother her in the shower, I wouldn’t have answered the phone. Besides, girl needs a break from me, if you know what I mean.” Sexual innuendo drips from his words, and an overwhelming rage plows into my chest.
She cheated on me.
With her scumbag douche of an ex who’s blackmailing her.
She’s a liar and a cheat.
I love her, but she never loved me.
Horror and self-doubt shred my heart and mind, making it hard for me to focus on the here and now. Except, regardless of what she did, I can’t let her go without making sure she’s safe. It’s not in me to walk away from the woman I love when I know she’s still in danger.
“Look, Johan, I know what you did. How you let a girl die in that club. How loan sharks are all over you for hundreds of thousands. I even know about the two women you assaulted and your family paid off. Now I’m thinking the people from the club who tossed you to the side wouldn’t take too kindly to this information getting out to the public. I’m assuming neither would your modeling agency or your family for that matter.”
“You son of a bitch!” he roars into the phone. “You say a fucking word—”
“And what? What are you going to do? I’ve got nothing to lose, motherfucker!” You’ve already taken all I hold dear is what I want to say, the ice pick going straight through my heart, but I won’t ever give him the satisfaction of knowing what he’s doing, what she has done to me.
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.”
International Guy: Milan, San Francisco, Montreal (International Guy Volumes Book 2) Page 26