Indiscreet (The Discreet Duet Book 2)

by Nicole French

  She snorted. “Sweetheart, this is a major industry party, and unlike my son, I actually care about my career.” She looked me over. “You do need to go to the bathroom, correct?”

  “Ah—um, yeah,” I ventured. Her response was jarring, considering I’d just threatened to pop her one.

  “Upstairs, fourth door on the right,” she said with an oddly sweet smile. “I’ll try to make nice with our boy while you’re gone. Studio’s orders.”

  I looked around nervously. What was going on?

  “You’re not the first person to threaten me and you won’t be the last,” Tricia said, nodding again toward the stairs. “Just go.”

  I peered up to the unlit second floor. Corbyn probably wouldn’t care. After all, he and Will were about as tight as a director and actor could get. And…the line was really, really long.

  “Okay, thanks,” I said.

  But Tricia was already gone.

  I found the bathroom nested in the giant master bedroom. When I was finished, I lingered a moment on the balcony, looking down on the party below. I spotted Will, with his burnished blond hair, nestled between Benny and Corbyn. He had a drink in his hand, and while that wouldn’t ever not make me uncomfortable, he looked reasonably relaxed, actually smiling and chuckling from time to time as Benny told some story. He’s not your mother, I reminded myself. It was possible for most people, after all, to have a drink or two without flying off the deep end. I was glad to see him relaxed.

  I was also glad to see that Amelia and Tricia were both leaving him alone. They were, however, together, chatting amiably on the other size of the yard while sipping the drinks that Tricia had brought out. Absently, I wondered who had gotten the third. A peal of Amelia’s high-pitched laughter filtered through the party, and I didn’t miss the way she darted another gaze across the yard to Will. He, however, didn’t seem to notice.

  “Well, hello there, Flower.”

  As it always did, the voice, with its insidious hum that once upon a time I found attractive, sent a ripple of fear down my spine. My skin immediately prickled all over. Theo. Here.

  Why?

  I turned around, still praying I’d been hearing things. But no, there was Theo, looking as rakish, handsome, and terrifying as ever. His eyes were glassy and dilated––clearly he was on something, which was made more evident by the way he swaggered unevenly around the room. Ice clinked together in his mostly empty glass, which smelled like whiskey.

  “Theo…w-what are you doing here?” I skittered to the side of the balcony, but Theo moved faster, blocking the door back into the bedroom.

  “I came to say hello,” he murmured. “I saw you standing there, surveying the party like Juliet looking for her Romeo. And I thought to myself, ‘well, here I am.’ What’s the line? ‘It is the east, and Juliet is the sun’? That sounds about right, doesn’t it?”

  I swallowed. “I—I d-don’t think so, Theo.”

  “You know, that’s the thing about Romeo and Juliet.” He staggered forward again, placing one palm on the wall to balance himself. “Everyone said they couldn’t be together. So in the end, they decided it was either love or death.” He cocked his head. “Sounds reasonable to me.”

  Should I scream? Would that help? The music below was pounding. I doubted I would even be heard over the noise. I glanced over my shoulder to the party below, praying that this red dress would shine like a beacon. That Will, with his second sense of what I was feeling, would see me. Would come.

  “I wouldn’t bother with him,” Theo replied. “In another few minutes, your golden boy won’t even know his own name.”

  I blinked. “What-what are you talking about?”

  Theo clicked his tongue. “Poor, naive Flower. You were always too trusting. As producer, it’s my job to make sure my talent gets what they want. And what your boy wants is pills. Lots and lots of pills.”

  My hands gripped the iron railing so tightly my knuckles turned white.

  “So you see,” Theo said as he took a few steps closer, “there’s nothing to worry about. There’s no one here who’s going to save you.”

  He trailed a finger down my face.

  “T-take your hands off me,” I ordered, cursing myself for the stutter.

  “You were always such a frigid little bitch,” he muttered as he cornered me against the guard. Then, like a snake darting out for its prey, his hand shot out and claimed me by the throat. Theo laughed. “That stutter is still cute, though.” The hand squeezed tighter. “Annoying as fuck. But cute.”

  With his violent grip, Theo wrenched me away from the balcony and swept inside, then slammed backward against the bedroom wall, hard enough that the wind was knocked out of me.

  “Theo,” I wheezed, my heart thumping. “P-please. Just let me go.”

  My eyes darted toward the bedroom entrance, praying for someone to wander upstairs and find us.

  “Do you know I have a record now?” Theo asked conversationally, holding me tightly with one hand while he examined the nails of the other. “Two months in jail were doable. Shitty, but doable. It was basically like living in a country club with bad outfits. I made some decent contacts. But now…” He dropped his hand, and the one around my neck pulled me forward, then slammed me lightly against the wall again. “But now, New York State has me registered as a fucking sex offender, Flower. Because of you. Do you know what that means?”

  I didn’t answer. I was too terrified.

  “It’s only level one,” he said, like he was talking about a bad drink he got at the bar. “That’s ‘low risk,’ or so says my shit-for-brains lawyer. But the goddamn judge couldn’t be bought, you see, and she decided to designate me as a violent”—he tapped me on the nose—“sexual”—my chin—“predator”—my chest.

  I gulped. His eyes blazed.

  “It means,” Theo said. “That I’m on a list. That anyone, anywhere, can look up dangerous people in their neighborhood and see my name on it.” His eyes flared. “I’m sure you can understand why that’s a bit of an inconvenience.”

  Then, as if it were just occurring to him that I had more than a face to stare at, his gaze slowly raked over my body, taking in the gold chain over my collarbone, down past the short, flared hem of my dress, the long expanse of my legs, and the unusual amount of cleavage. When I’d put the dress on, and especially when I’d seen Will’s reaction to it, I’d felt beautiful. Now I wanted to cover up.

  “Damn,” Theo whispered in a voice that once made me shiver with both desire and fear. Now there was only fear. And revulsion. “Why didn’t you wear things like this when we were together, huh?”

  He slid a finger down the strap of my dress, past my collarbone, and hovered over the swell of my breast.

  “Don’t t-touch me,” I hissed, but the grip around my neck remained strong enough that I could barely get the words out.

  The hand continued to travel down, around my breast, lingering over my waist, playing with the hem of my skirt.

  “Theo,” I whispered. “P-please. Let me g-go.”

  His dark eyes flickered up. “Or what, Flower? Do you really think anyone would care if I fucked a nobody at a party where everyone else is high or drunk?”

  “I’ll scream.” My voice was tiny, but I knew that in a second, it would blow wide open. Someone would hear me over the music. Wouldn’t they?

  Theo smirked and held me tighter as his other hand traveled up my thigh. He leaned close, his hot breath hovering over my ear.

  “Try it,” he said. His fingertips brushed the edge of my underwear. “I’ll like it better if you do.”

  Then his fingers, so deceptively smooth and limber dipped under the elastic edge. I opened my mouth, but before the scream erupted, another voice shattered the nasty spell.

  “What the fuck is going on here?”

  “Get off me!” I shrieked.

  Theo jumped, and immediately, I took the opportunity to bring my knee up as hard as I could, hitting pay dirt between his legs and sending
him to the floor, clutching his groin.

  “Fuck!” His voice broke with pain. “You fucking bitch!”

  “That’s nothing compared to what I’m going to do to you.” In one clean movement, Will lifted Theo by the collar and landed a punch to his nose with a crack.

  “Will!” I shouted.

  “What the fuck!” Theo’s voice was squashed, muted. “You bwoke my dose!”

  “I’m about to break a lot more than that, you piece of shit!” Will jumped forward, but was jerked back by the sudden presence of a security guard who grabbed him handily by the arms.

  “Theo, what the hell are you doing here?” Corbyn appeared behind the security, looking frantic. “You’re supposed to be in New York! Does Max know?”

  “Pretty sure my company is paying for this little shindig,” Theo retorted nastily, even with blood streaming down his face. “It’s my right to be here. And besides, it’s not my fault if the pretty boy’s girl misses the real thing.”

  “Son of a bitch!” Will lunged and was again snapped back by the massive arms of Corbyn’s security.

  “Listen, man, I don’t want to have to hurt you,” said the guard. “But this motherfucker needs to get tossed out. You wanna go too? Because I can’t take care of him if I gotta hold your crazy ass back.”

  “It’s your father’s company, not yours, you entitled little shit,” Corbyn snapped at Theo. “And this is my house, so you can get the hell out.” He looked around, locating another one of the security guards who had bounded in. “One of you, get this brat off my property. He is persona non grata around here.”

  “Hey, man, easy on the Prada!” Theo’s eyes found me as he was yanked out. “You think this is the end? Just wait, Flower! You’ll get what’s coming to you, and don’t you fuckin’ forget it! OW!” He was smacked in the face by the door as the guard forced him out of the room.

  “Okay?” asked the one holding Will once Theo was gone.

  Will expelled a long breath, and as his eyes returned to normal, he nodded. “Okay.”

  The guard released him and followed the others out of the room.

  Corbyn darted a gaze between Will and me. “Maggie, you all right?” he asked.

  I shuddered, trying to tug my torn dress. I couldn’t seem to cover up enough. “I—yeah. I’m ok-kay.”

  “Should I call the police?” The dread in Corbyn’s voice was palpable. This was a Hollywood party. I didn’t even want to think about how many illicit activities were probably going on.

  Will looked to me. I shook my head a tiny bit. I didn’t want to deal with the police any more than they did. After all, what could they do now?

  “No,” he said tightly. “But we, ah, we need a minute.”

  Corbyn nodded. “Take your time.” And with that, he left, shutting us in the bedroom. Alone.

  Will stared, and I tried to maintain eye contact. Tried not to burst into tears, because really, that was the last thing he needed at a party that was no doubt already buzzing with the excitement of the studio head’s son getting hauled out.

  “How—how did you find me?” I asked finally.

  “You’d been gone a long time,” he said quietly. “And I—I knew something was off. One of the grips said they saw you go upstairs, so I came to find you.”

  I swallowed. I thought he would wrap me in his strong arms, shut out the rest of the world in that uncanny way of his. But still he didn’t move.

  “I’m glad you did,” I whispered. A tear finally fell, but before he noticed, I swiped it away.

  Will shoved both of his hands through his hair, yearning, it seemed, for its previous length. “I’m so goddamn tired of this,” he muttered. “So fucking tired of ripping men’s hands off my girlfriend. So tired of chasing people away from what’s mine.”

  And before I could answer, he turned, grabbed the drink that Corbyn had left on the top of the dresser, and tipped the contents down his throat before striding toward the balcony. “Will!” I called as I followed him. “Will!”

  He whirled around, a tornado of fury. “What?” A cloud of vodka floated off him.

  I recoiled. “How—how much have you had to drink?”

  He rolled his eyes. “A few. But can you really blame me, Lil? Sometimes that’s what I need to deal with all of this bullshit. Dealing with every goddamn stranger in the room wanting a piece of me while my girlfriend is getting off with her ex upstairs.”

  Several people below us went quiet, though the music obscured most of our conversation.

  “You can’t actually think he was telling the truth,” I said.

  “Oh, I definitely think he’s a lying sack of shit,” Will said. Relief coursed through me, but only until he continued. “But I think you do stupid things when he’s around. To the point where I wonder sometimes if you don’t want it. Just a little.”

  My hand slapped over my mouth. “How can you say that? Especially after—”

  Will’s eyes shone. “After what?”

  “After you made out with your ex-fiancée yesterday and shanghaied me in front of her tonight!” My mouth clapped shut. I didn’t even know I’d felt that way until the words were out, and now there was no taking them back.

  “You could have left immediately when we had that dinner with him and Max. But you didn’t, and it cost you the restraining order. He still has your number. I got you a new phone—why haven’t you changed it? And now I find myself wondering what the hell you were doing with him on the lot to begin with. Did you really ‘happen’ to run into him? As for right now…”

  “D-don’t,” I whispered. “Don’t you even—”

  “You come up, alone in a party full of drunks, dressed like that—”

  I glanced down at my dress, the one he had complimented so vociferously before the party. “You think my dress caused Theo to try to r-rape me for the second fucking time?!” The quaver in my voice was turning violent.

  “Well, maybe he wouldn’t have done that if you hadn’t let Robin dress you up like a two-bit hooker!”

  “W-what?”

  Will squeezed his eyes shut, like the sound of my stutter physically caused him pain. I didn’t give a shit. His words were ripping my heart out.

  “Honestly, Lil, I don’t know what to think right now,” Will said. He opened his eyes again, all emotion drained. “I told you before, don’t leave me alone.”

  My mouth dropped. “Are you serious right now? I went to the bathroom!”

  “I told you not to leave me alone!”

  Will’s eyes widened, and it was then I saw the glaze, the telltale sheen, the slight pinking of the tip of his nose that didn’t have anything to do with how upset he was. He hadn’t had only a drink or two. The guy was completely sloshed. And, if his slightly dilated pupils were any indication, something more than that too.

  “You’re drunk,” I said, stepping backward.

  Will snorted. “Sweetheart, I’m a lot more than that right now.”

  He stepped toward me, fully imprisoning me against the balcony’s edge—exactly where I’d been before. I began to shake.

  “It’s your fault,” he whispered as his hand slipped around my waist. “I don’t know how I ended up taking it, but I’m glad I did. It’s the only way I know how to bear it without you around.”

  “You don’t mean that,” I whispered, trying and failing to blink away my tears. I was a damn mess.

  “Maggie?” Calliope’s voice sounded like it was filtering through a haze. “Maggie, are you up here?”

  Will gulped, his eyes shining as he staggered backward. “I told you that you’d be the death of me. I was right.”

  Below us, a silence spread across the entire yard. The music had stopped, and hundreds of people, all quiet, all had their mouths open. All looking up. All staring at me.

  “Fuck. You,” I whispered.

  I darted around him, right into Calliope’s arms as she stepped onto the balcony. I gripped her forearms, a lifeline in this mess. “Help.”

&n
bsp; “Come on,” Calliope said, looking between Will and me. “Let’s get you out of here.”

  “It’s going to be okay,” Calliope said for the fourth time as the Uber driver pulled up to the curb. Thankfully, the driver hadn’t seemed to recognize me, but you never could tell. We waited a few minutes for him to drive down the street before walking a few blocks up and walking down the driveway to the hidden villa.

  “Is it?” I wondered as I hugged my arms around my waist. “I’m not really sure.”

  “He loves you,” Calliope said.

  “He was drunk and high,” I bit back. “Regardless of love, I’m not sure what to do about that. And the things he said to me…”

  Calliope sighed. “It’s going to be okay,” she repeated. “I don’t know how, but it really is.”

  My phone chirped in my clutch. I pulled it out—a Google alert about Will.

  Old Habits Die Hard—Fitz Baker, Party Boy, is Back!

  Underneath the headline was a picture. If the headline shouted, the picture screamed. In it Will sat in the center of one of the outdoor couches around Corbyn’s pool, his arms spread across the back while two women sandwiched him. He smirked at the camera with an out-of-focus expression, but it wasn’t him that made me feel like someone was shoving a knife into my chest. And it wasn’t the girl on the right, one of the makeup girls who was making a peace-sign and holding up her drink to cheer the photographer. It was the other one, the one planting a kiss on his cheek while slipping her hand up the hem of his shirt. It was the sight of her silky blond hair and over-inflated lips that twisted the knife even deeper.

  Amelia. Fucking. Craig.

  “N-no,” I stuttered as I handed the phone to Callie. “It’s not.”

  27

  It took ten minutes of sitting on the couch before I decided I needed to leave the house. Then I darted around, grabbing as many of my things as I could find and stuffing them in my bag. That took thirty.

  “I don’t know,” Calliope said as I took one last look around the villa I had called “home” with Will for the summer. “I still think we should stay.”