Bryce let me go abruptly, and I fell back onto the bed. He looked horrified. "I didn't dump you. You left me. You dumped me."
I shook my head. "I didn't. You found out what I did to that reporter with that underage girl and blew up at me. You told me to leave. I left, Bryce. You told me we couldn't be together if I was going to do stuff like that. Well, I'm sorry, but I went crazy. You weren't there for me. You were always playing soccer. Corrigan had been there, but he left. I had no one. I'm supposed to suddenly make friends that I trust? Are you kidding? Do you know me? And then all those people following us, all the women. I went crazy when that reporter taped us."
I was tired of being violated.
He blew out a deep breath. "I told you to leave the office. When I said to go home, I meant our apartment. And I was there for you as much as you would let me be. You never let me back in, Sheldon. The only one you let in was Corrigan. When he left, you shriveled up inside. You think that was easy for me to take? You're my girlfriend, but you were mourning Corrigan like he had died when he went back home."
He was wrong. I closed my eyes against his lies. He chose soccer. He chose something else. He would always choose something else, someone else.
He sat at the end of my bed and hung his head. His shoulders slumped forward. "I know there's a lot we need to talk about. I know I need to hear some things that I probably don't want to, but all I can think about is Corrigan." He lifted stricken eyes to me. "Did you sleep with him? Tell me that, at least. I won't judge you if you did, but I need to know."
He was lying through his teeth. I knew it. "You'll judge, and we both know it."
"Did you?"
I lifted my hand in the air, and he caught it. He held it against his chest. "Did you?"
"No." But I watched intently. I saw the relief flare in his eyes, but I knew he didn't believe me. He knew something had happened, but it wasn't what he thought.
"Okay." Bryce nodded and patted my hand. He stood from my bed and grabbed his sweatshirt. He studied me as he put it on. "Are you going to be okay? I'm going to head out for a little bit. I have practice."
I nodded. I gave up. Even now, I knew he lied to me. He had ignored his phone, but I saw the alert flashing through his pocket. And who else would've been calling or texting? His agent. Mathi-my-ass needed to spin my latest incident.
He kissed me on the forehead. "I love you. We'll figure everything out. I promise."
I drew in a ragged breath when he left. After I had composed myself, I grabbed my purse from the floor and nabbed my phone. I hit the speed dial for Corrigan.
"Yo…"
I heard the caution in his voice.
It didn't feel good. "Can you lean on Grace? I think she saw something at the party."
There was silence on his end, and I knew why. He wanted to ask about Bryce, but he didn't. "What do you mean?"
"She was acting weird when Officer Sheila questioned me. I think she saw who pushed me."
"If she did, why wouldn't she just say something?"
"That's what I want you to figure out." Oh so smart one. "Can't you schmooze her?"
"Sheldon." He got quiet. "It's weird with us. I think she's in love with me."
"Exactly." A day ago I would've cared. I would never have used her feelings against her, but I didn't care anymore. She knew something, and she wasn't saying. That pissed me off. I wanted to know what she was hiding.
"Okay." Corrigan surrendered. "How did things go when I left?"
A wall slammed over me. "Next time stick around and ask yourself."
I hung up on him. Maybe I shouldn't have, but how dare he? How dare both of them? Both of them wanted something from me, but neither of them wanted to deal with their dirty laundry. They wanted me to air it all out and clean up the mess.
"The bruises make you look hot." Denton Steele whistled from the doorway. He leaned a shoulder against it. He looked good: trim waist, broad shoulders, and lean build. His green eyes sparkled at me from above movie-making cheekbones. His hair was rumpled like he'd just made love. I snorted, he actually might've.
"Tell me how bad it really is?" I gestured to my face. "Am I a domestic abuse victim?"
The corner of those luscious lips curved up. His eyes twinkled as his dimples appeared next. "You've looked better, but you still look hot." He chuckled. "I was in the area. One of the physicians sent me a text. She knows I used to keep tabs on you from before."
As international heartthrobs went, Denton Steele was in the top tier. He'd become a successful movie actor when we were in high school, but not long ago he'd graduated to the top of global stardom. Growing up as his neighbor and a few years younger than him, I might've embellished a couple of our rendezvous on purpose. I liked to make some of the girls jealous and they had been. One even attacked me. However, things went sour with him when Bryce and I got more serious. Then there was the whole thing with his sister.
"How's Mena?"
The cockiness vanished. He straightened from the doorway. "She's better. She's in a group home now."
"Is she happy?"
Not long ago, I could've asked her that question until she was pushed away by Bryce and Corrigan. Our friendship had taken a downward spiral, but I still cared. I would always have a soft spot for her.
"She is." Remorse flashed over the heartthrob's face. If anyone ever questioned Denton's love for his little sister, they'd look like a fool. He always went above and beyond for Mena, even threatening me to stay away because my life was too dangerous for her. He'd been right, but I hadn't understood why until I learned she wasn't mentally stable. "She's seeing someone. We're making plans for her to move into her own apartment. She's going to stay in the New York area. She likes the artsy atmosphere there."
I nodded, relieved for her. A part of me felt guilty, like I had caused her to relapse. I knew I'd been part of the reason but not all of it.
"And you?" He moved into the room and closed the door. As he sat in the chair Grace had abandoned, he cupped my face. His thumb brushed over some of the bruises. "You look like you got run over by a car."
"Not quite. Shoved into a glass table." I caught his hand and placed it in his lap. He couldn't touch me, not anymore.
His grin widened, but he leaned back in the chair. "So you and the soccer stud still going strong."
"I love him. I always have."
Surprise flared in his eyes. "And you say it so easily. My, my—a more mature Sheldon. What happened to the other girl?"
I winced at the pain and readjusted the bedding so it wasn't wrapped so tight around me. "If you'd gotten me a few hours earlier, I might've jumped your bones…well, no. I still wouldn't have, but trust me the new and improved 'feelings' Sheldon is temporary. It's the drugs kicking in. I feel braver now."
"No, there's a different look to you. I know you, Sheldon. I've been inside of you. You're different." One of his eyebrows lifted. "Maybe more mature?"
I rolled my eyes at the tease. "How is it that you're here again?"
Denton laughed as he stood up. "I know what that tone is telling me. It's telling me to get the hell out, so I'm going, Sheldon." When he got to the door, he paused and looked back. "You do look good. The bruises will fade. I'm not talking about that. You look strong."
When wasn't I strong? I could tear anybody up. Yeah, right. "Can you tell Mena that I asked about her? I know Grace would like to know too."
"Grace should already know. She's gone to visit Mena three times this year," Denton informed me before waving. "See you around, Sheldon. I doubt this will be our last run-in. It's good to see you're okay."
Grace had never said anything about visiting Mena. Three times? Why would she lie about that?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The next morning, I was cleared to return home. As I packed the change of clothes that Grace dropped off earlier, I felt someone in my doorway. Officer Sheila gave me a small wave and grin.
It didn't look like she had good news. I sat and waited.
"I went to your house. It was trashed."
Oh. That wasn't what I had expected. "That's from the party."
"I've seen parties and I've seen parties gone bad, Sheldon. This wasn't either of those. All of your glasses were in pieces of the floor. Plates looked like they'd been thrown across the room. Your liquor was dumped and the bottles were in pieces too. Your bedding was ripped, as if someone had taken a knife to them. Your clothes were on the floor. A knife was taken to them too. The car tires were slashed. Someone used a poker on your couches. We couldn't find a place to sit down in that house, and you have a very large house." She folded her hands in front of her and heaved a deep breath. Her flat eyes seemed even flatter that morning. "Someone wants to hurt you."
That hadn't even happened from my first stalker. Holy… "I don't know what to say…"
"Do you have insurance?"
"I…yeah, but…" Someone hated me that much.
"I thought Bryce would go back to your place. He's not staying with you?"
"Um…he is, but he stayed here with me last night." Why did I lie for him? "After that, I don't know. He might've gone to find Corrigan."
"What about Corrigan? Where does he live now?"
"At a fraternity house."
Officer Sheila snorted. "Corrigan's in a fraternity? Why does that not surprise me?" She sighed and sat beside me. "Look. I'm just going to give it to you straight. I know you'd want nothing less. You have a stalker, and it's a female. Some bitch really hates you, and she's going to keep making your life hell. She's going to do small petty shit like this. I've seen other female stalkers and they're all the same. She's probably obsessed with Bryce, and you took him away from her. That's what she's thinking. Could that be true? You got beef with anyone else over Bryce?"
A dry laugh escaped me. "Before he became a jock star or after?"
"Has someone been sending him creepy letters? Or did he…did he cheat on you with anyone?" She held off whatever else she wanted to ask. The silence seemed so heavy.
With a sigh, I lifted my head. "I don't know. Maybe." He'd had six months. He could've done anything with anyone and I wouldn't know. "He hasn't said anything about creepy letters, but I'm sure he gets them. I know you want me to give you names, but honestly—I have a lot of enemies. It could be anyone."
"You're not the father!"
Officer Sheila glanced up at the television when the talk show erupted in screams. She grunted, "I was watching one of those gossip shows before." At my look, she held up her hands. "It was only because I was forced to. There was a story on you and Bryce in there. They're saying some model from Spain is here, Guadalajera or…"
"Guadalupe." I was starting to hate that bitch.
"Does she seem crazy and obsessive?"
I closed my eyes, grateful she hadn't asked the obvious. "I don't know. We exchanged words a few times in Spain before I left, but that was it. She was at the club yesterday trying something with Bryce. It looked like he was holding her off."
"Okay." Officer Sheila stood up and ran her hands down her jeans. She scratched the back of her neck and looked out the window. "I'll, uh…I'll find out where she's staying and go have a chat with her. I'll keep you posted. Tell me anything about anyone if you think of it."
I nodded. I still couldn't understand why this was happening again.
"Middle of the night, you can call me. I mean it. I'll be awake." She chuckled to herself. "That's how sad my life is. Take care of yourself, Sheldon. You got someone coming to pick you up?"
"Yeah, sure."
When she left, I grimaced as I grabbed the small bag and headed out. No one was coming to pick me up. No one knew that I was cleared to go home, but now I couldn't go home. So I called the one person I never thought I would call in my life.
Bryce's agent answered with a suspicious hello.
"Mathias, I need a favor."
"What kind of a favor? Thanks for not scratching Guadalupe's face, by the way. I know her agent. She would've ripped me a new one."
"What hotel is she staying at?"
"What? No way. No way, Jose. You stay away from her, Sheldon."
"Relax."
"You relax. I'll tell Bryce. I'm hanging up right now to call him."
"Stop!" I rolled my eyes. He was such a pansy. "I know you don't want any trouble from me, but I want to apologize to her. I won't even see her. I'll leave a note at the front desk, but I need to know which hotel so that I can do that."
When he started to argue some more, I groaned. "Come on, Mathias. I don't trust anyone else to do this. You know how things end up in the media's hands. Just give me the name. That's it."
There was a long silence, but he asked, "Are you sure? That's all you're going to do."
"I promise." Why did people always ask that of me? Did they not really know me? Of course I was lying.
"What do you think? Do you think that's a good idea? I thought Bryce would know that I'm not too jealous of her then."
"Well…okay. She's staying at the Wilshire, room 618. Don't—just…don't mess things up with Bryce. He's close to Guadalupe. I know you don't want to hear that, but they're close. They're friends, Sheldon. I know Bryce would be upset if she were upset."
Bryce would be upset? This guy really was stupid. I was barely able to stop myself from snorting in disbelief. "I'm going to make things right. Just watch."
"Okay." I heard his relief over the phone. "Good. This means a lot to me, Sheldon. It's nice to see that you're making an effort." He started to say something else, but I ended the call abruptly.
I couldn't stomach anymore of his stupidity.
Wilshire, huh? I grabbed my bag and went to check out. After I signed my last sheet of paper and had taken care of all that business, I hailed a cab. I didn't want to go back to the mansion, not yet. Officer Sheila made it sound like I didn't have any clothes left, so I stopped at a store for some new ones. I bought a couple of basic hooded sweatshirts and jeans. Then I got a big pair of sunglasses and went back to the cab. Once we were at the Wilshire, with my hood up and sunglasses over my face, I asked for room 617.
After I got to my room, I sank down on the bed. It was a beautiful room with white blankets, white tiling on the floor, and a patio that overlooked their pool. I didn't care. That's when reality started to hit me. What was I doing? No matter how bad everything was, I had always had Bryce and Corrigan to back me up. Then Grace came along too, but now I couldn't turn to any of them. It was just me and me alone.
Hell. I studied the liquor cabinet, grabbed a bottle of vodka, and guzzled. Halfway through the bottle, I heard the door open across the hallway and stumbled over to look out my peephole. Guadalupe emerged with two other people. One guy wore a tuxedo and he held her hand as another girl patted down her hair.
When they started down the hallway, I grabbed my purse and followed down the stairs. I waited near the door as they stepped off the elevator.
"And where are you off to, Miss Guadalupe?" The clerk handed them a packet and smiled graciously.
The tuxedo dude spoke for her. "Miss Bennett has a very important meeting. Thank you, Concierge." Then they headed out. The tuxedo guy held his hand on her back. I watched through the glass doors when they ducked inside a limo.
Should I follow them? Should I become the stalker this time? My gut sank as I remained there. I had become pathetic. When had that happened?
"Are you a fan of hers?" The concierge asked me. He was over six feet tall with classic handsome features. There was a hint of Latin heritage. He seemed friendly, but I saw eagerness in his eyes. I didn't like that he was eager.
"Not really."
"She's beautiful, isn't she? I have a friend of a friend to her make-up girl. They're going to have dinner with Bryce Scout right now. Have you heard of him? He's a big soccer star. They both just moved here. She came for a movie, and he followed her here. She could do so much better."