15
The rest of the night disappeared in a blur.
When we arrived at Emergency, the nurses and doctors wasted no time seeing me. I had no idea if it was because of who I was, or the severity of my injuries. For once I hoped it was because of my public persona.
The ankle turned out to be only a sprain—probably because I’d taken the brunt of the fall on my shoulder. Things weren’t quite so rosy for my collarbone. I’d broken it, as the paramedics had already told me, but the X-rays revealed it was a complicated break that was unlikely to heal on its own.
After that I’d been prepped for surgery.
Too sore, tired and groggy to be scared, I’d just wanted the pain to go away and had welcomed the oblivion of the anesthetic.
Now it appeared to be morning. I’d just been wheeled out of recovery and into my own room. Jay smiled as I was pushed past him, sympathy written in the lines of his face. The tenderness I saw there almost distracted me from the five other guys loitering nearby.
Five big, serious-looking dudes in matching black suits—I recognized them all from the gatehouse at home. Jay had employed them in recent months to help guard my property but they were usually on shifts, not all in one place like this.
It appeared Jay had significantly upped my security detail. I raised my eyebrows questioningly.
Jay just shrugged as I rolled by, which could only mean one thing.
Romero.
I closed my eyes as we entered the room, silently wishing I was still under anesthetic. It would be easier than lying helpless in a hospital room being guarded by my own personal Tough Guy Squad.
“Let’s get you comfortable, shall we?” The nurse who’d been wheeling me along stopped my bed in the center of the room.
She was nice enough. She looked about my age and I could tell she was slightly awed by who I was, despite my current state of health.
“Thanks,” I said, as she positioned my bed and angled the mattress so I was sitting up.
“If you need anything, just press this,” she said, setting a call button on the edge of the bed within reach of my good arm. “Anything we can do to make you feel more comfortable.”
I smiled as she left but it faded once she was gone.
I eyed the room around me with an intensifying sense of unease. It was like any other hospital room—apart from the group of men outside my door. God, I hated these places. I knew that wasn’t fair. Hospitals were full of nurses and doctors trying their best to help people. But how must Mom have felt spending hour after hour here with no idea if she’d ever get well?
I looked down at my arm, secured in a sling. I wasn’t dying, I reminded myself. I was healthy, or at least most of me was considering I’d jumped out the window. I had the sinking feeling the sling wasn’t coming off anytime soon.
“Shit,” I said out loud.
“That bad?”
Marc strode into the room, pushing his cell phone into his back jeans pocket as he did so. His entrance changed the feel of the room completely. Instead of the sterile chemical smell, I detected fresh soap, mint and a hint of spice.
Obviously sometime between the fire and now he’d showered and changed. His blackened jeans had been replaced with new ones, and the leather jacket he wore highlighted his broad shoulders and narrow waist. How could he look so fresh, damn it? Knowing him, he’d barely slept.
“It must be bad if you don’t have a smart reply for me.” He pulled a chair next to my bedside and sat down and studied me.
His dark gaze unnerved me.
“I’m fine,” I told him.
“You’ve looked better.”
His honesty made me laugh. “Ow. Thanks for that.”
“How’s the pain?”
“Bearable,” I lied.
“You’re going to want to take the drugs they give you.”
“We’ll see.”
“Wait until the drugs from surgery wear off, then decide.”
God, he was cocky. I also hated that he was probably right, but then he hadn’t lived through what I had with my mother. I could also be incredibly stubborn when I wanted to.
As if reading my mind, he nodded toward my injured shoulder. “You’ll heal quicker if you take them. And something tells me the studio will try to double the dose if they think it would get you back on-set quicker.”
“Oh,” I moaned. I hadn’t had time to think about the consequences of my broken collarbone yet. “I need to talk to Diana and Trudy.” Diana was my agent and Trudy was my publicist.
“They’ve already been on the phone. I told them they’re not to bother you for at least another twenty-four hours or I’ll speak to the media on their behalf.”
“You didn’t!”
He appeared satisfied with my horrified response. “Sure I did. That includes you too. Don’t try to call them. You need to rest, not worry about production schedules.”
“Oh, far out. They’re not going to be happy. The delay to the filming schedule is going to kill them.”
“They can afford it for their star performer. Besides, what’s the saying? All publicity is good publicity?”
I squinted at him because my head felt heavy, and then his words finally sunk in. “You mean the media has got a hold of this?”
He shrugged. “You’ve got a big house. It burned for hours. It was kind of hard to miss.”
I looked up at the ceiling in despair. “I don’t suppose there’s anything left?”
“They managed to save downstairs, but the upstairs was damaged badly.”
I met his eyes and all the humor was gone from them.
“I’m sorry, Lena.”
I wanted to shrug, but knew better. I didn’t even want to move my good shoulder in case it upset the healing process. “It’s not important. It’s just a house.”
Marc didn’t say anything. It was like he knew I needed the time for everything to sink in.
“Does Ally know?” I asked.
“She’s on her way.”
Relief flooded through me. She was the closest thing to family I had and seeing her would make all of this seem bearable. “I’ll have to stay with her for a night or two,” I told Marc.
The last thing I wanted to do was check into a hotel. The irony of the situation was that despite my big ass house and millions of dollars, it was my only house. Why couldn’t I have been like other celebrities who owned a scattering of indulgent properties in a variety of exotic locations? A villa in France was looking pretty good about now. But for some reason, I always liked the idea of only having one house. I’d never been frivolous with my money, but it was more than that. As much as I’d felt I hadn’t suited my house in the Hollywood Hills, I’d tried to make it a home.
Marc cut through my thoughts. “I don’t think so.”
“What do you mean, you don’t think so?”
“You’re not staying with Ally.”
“Who made you my keeper?”
“You did, if you recall,” he replied easily. “I’ve made alternative arrangements while you recuperate.”
I stared open-mouthed at him for a long moment, then managed to catch myself. “You can’t be serious? You had no right to do that. Where’s Jay? I need to—”
“Jay’s across it. It’s for your safety, Lena.”
I almost growled at him, but caught myself. If Marc did anything else for my safety, I was liable to fire him on the spot. Instead, I asked politely, “Where is it?”
“You don’t need to worry about that.”
I swallowed, trying to remain calm. My mouth felt awful after the surgery. Dry and sore, but it was possibly an after-effect of the smoke inhalation too.
Marc handed me a glass of water, which only annoyed me further. I was a good actress. How was it he could read me? I took a sip anyway because I badly needed it, then cast him a steely look. “Tell me where it is, Marc.”
He held my gaze. “It’s somewhere safe.”
I put the water down slowly on the tray table he’d pushed in front of me, my anger subsiding as the gravity of my situation sunk in. “My God, the fire wasn’t an accident, was it?”
“It doesn’t look that way.”
I was so stupid. Of course, the fire wasn’t an accident, but everything had happened so quickly I hadn’t really allowed myself to think about it. Correction. I hadn’t wanted to think about it. “OK,” I said flatly.
“OK?” he echoed, obviously surprised.
“Yes, OK. I do trust you. Mostly.”
“Good enough.”
He rose and some of that manly shower-fresh scent wafted my way again. At least it was good to know the fire hadn’t ruined my sense of smell.
He regarded me thoughtfully. “You’ll like it.”
“What?”
“Where I’m taking you.”
My stomach twisted. It had to be from the drugs, because the idea of Marc taking me anywhere wasn’t remotely appealing. “How long for?”
“We’ll play it by ear. You’ll need the sling for six weeks—”
“Six weeks!”
He smirked and my stomach twisted some more. Damn medication.
“Unless you’re a quick healer.”
“I’m a quick healer,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Good. Rest up because we leave tomorrow.”
I didn’t say anything, although part of me—a big part—was secretly grateful I wouldn’t have to stay in hospital very long. I watched Marc walk purposefully from the room, then quickly averted my eyes when I realized my gaze had lowered to his jean-clad ass.
When he was gone, I closed my eyes and swallowed a sickening feeling of helplessness.
*
“It can’t be that bad,” Ally said to me during her visit the following afternoon.
“Oh, yes it can,” I told her. “I’m spending days, potentially weeks, in an undisclosed location with him.”
“Marc’s not that bad,” she repeated. “At least he’s nice to look at.”
“You sound like Chloe,” I accused.
“I’m trying to look on the bright side. You used to be pretty good at that,” my oldest friend reminded me.
I sighed and offered her an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I guess I am having a bit of a pity party, which is not like me.”
“No, it’s not like you, but I understand why.” Ally’s gaze dropped to my sling and she reached across for my good hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s just a plot twist, right?”
My smile turned genuine. I’d used those words when things hadn’t been going so well for her earlier in the year. “I think this one’s a thriller movie. There’s more than one plot twist.”
Ally’s brown eyes held concern. “Does Marc think the same person is responsible for the fire?”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “I haven’t asked him yet. I’ve been too busy feeling sorry for myself. But hey, I have plenty of time to grill him about it now, don’t I?”
Ally shook her head at me. “You’re so funny. It’s like you don’t want to like him or something.”
“It doesn’t matter if I like him or not. So long as he does his job, I’m happy.”
Her lips curled into a coy smile. “Oh, so that passionate kiss on the red carpet was all an act then?”
I felt my eyes widen but managed to rearrange my face into cool indifference. “The reporters gave me no choice.”
“I bet.”
Damn it. Her dark eyes held a challenge and I knew she was annoyed I hadn’t told her.
“It was nothing,” I said. “Really. It was purely for the cameras.”
“Yeah, I don’t believe you.”
I couldn’t help it, her casual dismissal made me smile. She really did know me far too well, but I still wasn’t about to admit the kiss had shaken me.
“See, here’s the thing,” she continued, also knowing me well enough to know I wouldn’t talk easily. “If it had been nothing, you’d already have mentioned it. The fact that I had to find out about it by seeing it in the media tells me it was something.”
“It was one kiss, Ally. That’s all.”
“So does Mr. Hot Lips taste as good as he looks?”
I couldn’t help myself and smiled again. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Actually, no I’m good, thanks. Jake’s all the man I need, but you certainly looked to be enjoying it.”
“All an act,” I repeated.
“Sure. Maybe that’s why you hate him so much—because you like him.”
I resisted the urge to shake my head at her. “What are we? Fifteen? And I told you, I don’t like him.”
Ally grinned and I realized she was happy she’d brightened my mood.
“For all your banter, I can tell you respect Marc,” she said.
My smile faded. “Well, sure. He’s good at what he does. Even if he is annoying.”
“He’s only annoying because he challenges you.”
“No, he—”
“Yes, he does,” Ally corrected. “Me and Faith are about the only people you allow to challenge you. Me, because I’m your oldest friend, and Faith because, well, that’s just Faith. Marc does it without being asked though, and it pisses you off.”
“Wouldn’t it piss you off?”
“I’m not used to living in an ivory tower.”
Ouch.
Ally winced. “Sorry. Was that a bit much?”
I sighed and toyed with the edge of the sheet. “Do you really think so?” I asked after a beat of silence.
She nodded. “I’m afraid so. I know you haven’t tried to set it up that way, but over the last five years you’ve become surrounded by people—most of them in the industry—who have an interest in telling you what you want to hear.”
I rested my head against the pillow propped behind me. My shoulder was aching. The nurse would be in soon to give me some more painkillers and I wasn’t going to argue. It really did hurt. Ally’s words hurt more because they were true, but that’s what best friends were for. I really did love her, even when what she said sucked.
“It’s why I’m going through with the divorce with Duncan,” I said quietly.
Ally squeezed my hand again. “I know. Remember how you told me a while back that he hadn’t fallen in love with the real you? While you take the time to heal, try to think of this time away as a chance to be yourself and take a break from Hollywood. It’s not like you care what Marc thinks.”
I laughed then sucked in a sharp breath. God, that hurt. “That’s so true. And the stupid thing is, apart from you, he’s the one who probably knows the most about me.”
“Sort of. He knows the facts, not what’s in your heart.”
I looked sadly at my friend. “You know something? Sometimes I’m not even sure I know what’s in my heart anymore.”
Ally smiled at me. “Well, maybe this is the break you need to find out.”