9
By the time Marc and the police arrived I was cradling a glass of water in my bathroom. I’d perched myself on top of the counter next to the sink, one side of my body resting against the cool glass of the mirror.
“She’s in there,” I heard one of the police officers say to Marc when he demanded to know where I was.
He strode into the bathroom and his polished black shoes squeaked on the marble tiles as he came to a stop in front of me. I studied the liquid in my glass for impurities.
“For fuck’s sake, Lena. Look at me.”
I took another sip and wished like hell it was something alcoholic, like whiskey.
“Lena!” His sharp reprimand had no effect and I closed my eyes because my head pounded. Ever since I’d stepped into my bedroom, it was if my heart had escaped my rib cage and now it beat a steady rhythm against my skull.
“Tell me you didn’t go out there?” he growled.
“Where else was I supposed to go?”
Marc swore and I opened my eyes when I felt his breath on my face. I swallowed at the fierce look directed at me from only inches away. “You should have stayed in here and called me.”
I set the glass down and swung my bare legs around to hang off the front of the counter. He was forced to straighten and step back. “And what? Cower in here like a cornered animal?”
A muscle worked in his jaw and he leaned in, placing a hand either side of my legs on the counter. “And let me do my job, that’s what. Did you consider that for even a moment?” His voice was deathly quiet.
I tipped my chin up at him, ignoring the soft caress of his breath on my face. “I’m not a victim, Romero.”
He stepped back and threw his hands up in the air, running one of them through his neatly cropped hair. “I never said you were, but I’ll tell you what you are: stupid.”
I jumped off the counter and crossed my arms in front of myself. “No. Stupid would be expecting someone else to protect me.”
“Don’t confuse luck with good sense. If he’d still been out there, I’d really like to know how you planned to protect yourself.” He inclined his head. “Especially looking like that.”
I glanced down at my bare legs poking out from beneath the oversized T-shirt. “What difference does this make?”
In one swift movement he reached over and caught me, twisting me around so my back was pressed against his body, his arm resting across my chest. The maneuver had been smooth rather than rough, and executed the way a dancer might twirl their partner. “Tell me,” he whispered in my ear. “How exactly did you expect to defend yourself against a man who is stronger than you are, screwed in the head, and intends to assault you?”
“Marc, are you in there?”
He pushed me away and I caught his look of disgust in the mirror as he stormed out.
I crossed the room slowly to the counter and picked up my drink, my hand shaking. My chest felt tight from where he’d held me, but I wasn’t hurt. Only short of breath.
“Oh my God, Lena!”
A tiny whirlwind of wavy black hair raced into the bathroom and threw herself at me.
“Ally,” I sighed, holding her tight and resting my chin on her head. It was the first time since the incident I’d felt close to tears.
She squeezed me and didn’t let go. “I came as soon as I could. Please tell me you’re alright?” She pushed away from our embrace and looked up at me. “Of course you’re not alright! I’m so sorry.” She looked like she was about to cry, too.
I managed a thin smile. “I’m not hurt. I’m OK.”
“Physically.”
My lip trembled and I looked away. “I’m fine.”
Ally reached over and held my hand. “Liar. But I get it. It’s OK.”
It wasn’t OK. It was so far from OK, but unless I pretended like I was fine there was no way I was going to get through this.
“Can you come downstairs?” she asked. “I can cook pancakes.”
A bubble of laughter escaped my lips.
She squeezed my hands. “I figure they’ll be up here for a while and then they’ll need to ask lots of questions, and you could do with some sugar.”
I nodded and let her lead me from the bathroom. In the dressing room, I dropped her hand and slipped on a pair of jeans, then threw a loose-fitting jumper over my head to hide the fact I wasn’t wearing a bra.
“Ready?” Ally’s dark brown eyes held concern as well as assurance. For a split second, it took me back to our teenage years and the tightness in my chest became crushing. “Hey.” She stepped in and rubbed her palm on my back. “You can do this. I know you can.”
I swallowed and nodded again. Eyes down, we slipped out of the dressing room and I let her pull me past the swarm of police officers surrounding my bed. For once, I was glad my bedroom was so large.
When we reached the doorway, I heard my name.
“Lena.” Marc’s voice was soft.
I stopped but deliberately didn’t look at him. It was out of character for me, but I knew Marc would know why. “Yes?”
“We’ll need to ask you more questions.”
“I know.”
“I’m cooking her pancakes,” Ally said.
The conversation in the room fell silent and I saw Ally give them all a bright smile out of the corner of my eye. “If you promise to be nice, I’ll make some for everyone.” Even if the uniformed officials weren’t nice, Ally always made enough to feed a football team.
“Good idea,” Marc said, while I continued to look at my toes. The conversation started up again, like he’d given the cue for everyone to get back to work.
I felt Ally tug gently on my arm. At the last second I made the stupid mistake of looking up as if Marc’s presence had some sort of magnetic pull on me.
Our eyes met. To my surprise there was no simmering anger, but something much gentler. Regret mixed with resignation? I’d been too busy being petulant in the bathroom earlier to notice Marc still wore the suit from the movie premiere, the tie loosened around his neck. I wanted to tell him I was sorry. That I’d been in shock and I shouldn’t have reacted like that.
He glanced toward the bed and before I could stop myself I followed the direction of his gaze.
I sucked in a sharp breath.
“Lena,” Ally said softly.
But I couldn’t look away. It was exactly as I’d found it. The cover pulled back to reveal pristine white bed sheets that were no longer pristine. They were stained with the evidence of the man who had stood over my bed and left his mark—like some sort of sick tribute. He’d been thoughtful enough to scatter rose petals nearby, and I knew it was that same thoughtfulness that had driven him to pull back the covers so that the fluid soaked into the mattress.
Marc stepped into my line of vision. “Go downstairs.”
Bile rose in my throat and I let Ally lead me away. I didn’t need to be asked again.
*
Despite Ally’s delicious cooking I couldn’t do much more than pick at the pancakes. On a normal day she would have taken me to task about it, but tonight she sat silently beside me pushing her own around the plate.
“I should have locked myself in the bathroom. There’s a lock,” I told her.
She looked up briefly then back down at the plate. “You can’t predict how you’ll react in a stressful situation.”
“Marc’s angry with me.”
“He’s always angry.”
A faint smile touched my lips. “True.”
Ally met my eyes. “I’m a little angry at you, too.”
I put my fork down and gave her my full attention. “You just said—”
She held up a hand. “I know. But I’m angry you were in danger like that and next time you should let Marc protect you and—”
“He wasn’t even there! What was I supposed to do?”
Ally stiffened at my raised tone of voice. I rarely yelled.
“You could have locked yourself in the bathroom like you said and called him. Called the gatehouse.”
“I wasn’t even sure anyone was there,” I said, careful to speak at a more normal level.
“But what would have happened if he’d still been in the room, Lena? What then?” Her voice held an appeal and I knew it was out of concern for me.
I pushed a strand of hair away from my face. “I don’t know. I didn’t march straight out there, you know.” Far from it. I’d fought the fear for a good thirty seconds before peeking out of the dressing room. When I hadn’t seen anyone, I’d stepped out into the room to investigate further. “For all I knew, the message was simply to scare me. I didn’t really think anyone would have been able to get into the house with all the security.”
“But you had no way of knowing that.”
“I know, but I didn’t plan to fight him. If it came to it, I thought I could race past him, escape somehow.”
“Just like in the movies.”
I shot her an unimpressed look.
She shrugged. “It’s OK, I get it. The fight or flight response kicked in.”
“And I chose flight.”
“It’s better than fight.”
“Yes.”
“Can I ask you something though?” Ally said.
“Yes.”
“Can you let Marc do his job from now on?”
“I have been.”
“You’ve been letting him investigate the case and putting up with having him around, but you don’t trust him.”
“Would you?”
“Yes.”
Her answer surprised me. “Why?”
She shrugged. “Because he’s good at what he does. And he cares for you.”
“What makes you say that?” As good an actress as I was, I couldn’t disguise the curiosity in my voice. “He hates me.”
“No, he doesn’t. You frustrate him because you think you have to take on the world by yourself and you don’t let him in.”
“I don’t want to let him in,” I replied. The thought of letting someone like Marc ‘in’ was laughable. When he wasn’t brooding or taunting me, the man had the empathy of a rock.
“Because you don’t want to face the fact that you’re a world-famous actress who attracts the attention of psychos. He sees it for what it is. You don’t.”
“So, what? You think I’m an out-of-touch actress living in a make-believe world?”
“Of course not. I didn’t say that. And you’re doing it right now. You’re trying to protect yourself in the only way you know how: by pushing everyone away.”
The kitchen stool scraped on the tiles as I stood up. I picked up our plates and took them to the sink.
“I’m sorry if I’ve upset you,” Ally apologized, “but I’m just really worried.”
The plates clattered as I put them in the sink. “I know. And I’m sorry my default reaction is to push you away.”
“Not just me. Everyone.”
“You’ve been spending time with Faith,” I accused.
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
I gave up on the dishes and leaned against the counter. “You were the only one who could get through to me last time, too.”
‘Last time’ was when my mother was dying of cancer when I was a teenager. When Ally discovered my father had all but left me to be carer for my mom, she’d stepped in despite my initial protests. While my mom was undergoing treatment she’d ensured our fridge was packed with food. She’d rarely left my side at school, and then when my mother’s condition worsened and she’d had to stay in hospital, Ally moved me in with her family.
“Am I getting through to you now?” she asked, cutting through my memories.
I nodded. “Yes. You are. Unfortunately.” I sighed. “Alright. I’ll do my best to let Marc do his job.”
“And to let him protect you.”
“I’ve got Jay for that.” My security guard had been as furious as Marc when he’d discovered the security breach.
“Lena.”
“Fine. He can protect me, too.”
But he can never kiss me again, I thought.
One minute Marc was aloof, the next he was provoking or taunting me. Not to mention his protective streak. The way he’d manhandled me in the bathroom had surprised me, although I hadn’t felt scared at any point. He’d been too gentle for that. But beneath his cool veneer, he was one of those physical, demonstrative types—definitely not something I found a turn-on. And one sweet, sexy kiss wasn’t going to make up for the frustrating and confusing enigma that was Marc Romero.
There was no way I was telling Ally about it. At least not yet. It would be all over the media, but it was currently the least of my worries. Just like this whole stalking mess, the sooner our kiss was forgotten and Marc was out of my life, the better.