She searches my features. “You’re too fucking good for him, you know that?”
I half-smile. Everyone should have girlfriends who’re in your corner, no matter what. “I’m tempted to say you’re biased, but I think I’ll take the compliment.”
“You bet your ass, you should.”
I walk into the kitchen, then glance around the space. Why does this no longer feel like home? Why do I feel like I left behind the one place I could have called home? Why does he feel more like home? Especially when he’s been such a mean, horrible person to me all along. Guess I am a masochist. There’s no other explanation.
There, finally. I head toward the bottle of red wine hidden behind the spices. I balance the phone on the counter, then slide the bottle out and dust it off. Yeah, that’s how long it’s been there. Or rather, how long I haven’t been in this apartment. No matter. Wine doesn’t expire, does it? Nah, should be okay. I hunt around for a corkscrew and open the bottle. I pour some of the scarlet liquid into a wine glass, then grab my phone and walk over to the window.
“Salut,” I raise the glass toward the screen, then sip from it. It goes down smoothly, but it’s not enough to take the edge off of the pain that’s clinging to my nerve-endings. I take another sip, then tip up my chin. “Enough about me and my sad story. What about you?”
She winces.
“That bad?”
“Worse.” She steps into a patch of sunlight and a golden glow fills the screen. “Where are you?”
“By the pool.”
“How do you stand all that brightness?”
“It’s California—" She laughs. “There’s a reason Hollywood is situated here.”
“Isn’t all that sun overwhelming for you?”
She chews on her bottom lip. “If you mean, does it end up shining a light on my faults, then you’re right.”
“Oh, babe, that’s not what I meant.”
She hunches her shoulders. “I know.” She glances to the side then back at me. “The label dropped me.”
“What?” I straighten. “What do you mean, they dropped you? They can’t drop you. You’re their golden child. The girl with the magic voice who shot up the charts like a meteor—"
“—And crashed just as fast.” She begins to pace. “Maybe finding fame so quickly was a curse. It would have been better to inch up the rankings. Might have made for a steadier ascent, and I’d have had time to ground myself at every phase. This business is fickle, you know? And I’ve barely managed to keep afloat, let alone, take the time to network along the way and make friends in the industry who can help me out. Anyway, when you’re unsuccessful, no one wants to be your friend, you know?”
“I’m your friend. And so is Penny and my new friend Mira, who you haven’t met yet. Also, you have your sister Olivia, and through her, the network of the wives and girlfriends of the Sovranos and the Seven. So, you have a lot of people rooting for you.”
“Just not him.”
“Eh?” I blink. “You’re talking about Declan, I take it?”
“Declan who? He hasn’t bothered to reply to my last few messages.”
“Aww, maybe he’s just been busy.”
“No doubt.” She flips her hair over her shoulder. “At least, my manager is rooting for me. If it weren’t for that, I might just have closed up shop and gone home, you know?”
“But that’s good, right? It means you still have a chance.”
“Maybe.” She hunches her shoulders.
“I wish you were here. You shouldn’t be having to go through this on your own.”
“I was thinking of visiting, for your wedding, but guess that’s not happening, huh?”
“Not anytime soon, and not to him.”
“That ring though—" She fans herself. “It took pride of place in the video.”
“So, you’ve seen that social media clip, too, huh?”
“I’m as much of a media whore as you, babe. Comes with the territory. I wish I didn’t pay so much attention to it, but when your career is sinking, you become desperate for any media article mentioning you. Besides, that proposal?" She shakes her head. “You could have fooled me for thinking he was sincere.”
“Well, he wasn’t.” I glance away, then back at her. “Can we change the topic? Talking about him is giving me heartburn and—"
There’s a sound behind me. I turn, and the phone slips from my fingers. “You?”
45
Cade
“Come on, pick up, pick up.” I dial her number again, but there’s no answer.
After that talk with Declan, I left immediately to head to her place. First, I called the men I’d put on her, but they didn’t answer their phones. That was the first sign something’s wrong. I tried her right away, and when the call went to voicemail, the hair on the back of my neck prickled.
Of course, there’s always a chance she’s so pissed with me, she refused to accept the call—and she has every reason to be—but my instincts say otherwise. Something isn’t right.
I never should have told her that the proposal was fake. Never should have pretended I was going out to party with my mates. Never should have pushed her away. What kind of a coward am I, that I couldn’t face up to my own emotions? That I couldn’t admit to myself that I had feelings for her? What kind of a monster refuses to even acknowledge when the woman of his dreams confesses her feelings for him? What kind of a knobhead turns his back on his woman when she’s at her most vulnerable?
If anything happens to her, I’ll… I’ll never be able to forgive myself. I press my foot on the accelerator, tempted to go above the speed limit—damn the consequences—but that won’t help my case. The last thing I need is to be caught speeding through London. The press would have a field day with that, and it would only neutralize any of the positive press from our engagement. If not for myself, I owed it to her to keep my name out of the tabloid headlines.
She agreed to the engagement and did her part. She so convincing as a woman in love; it’s part of the reason the reporters bought the story. That, and the fact that I meant every word I said. Only, I never told her that. Instead, bastard that I am, I told her the opposite.
When I see her next, I’m going to make sure she knows everything. Please, please let her be safe. She has to be safe. I redial her number using the hands-free gear when an incoming call shows up on screen. I accept it, and a woman’s voice fills the space. “Cade, thank god I reached you. It’s Abby—something’s wrong.”
My heart catapults into my throat. “What’s wrong with her? Who’s this?"
“It’s Solene. I’m Abby’s friend; I got your number off Zara and—"
“What happened?”
“I was talking with Abby, when I heard her exclaim in surprise, and the phone went dead. More than likely, she dropped the device. Something’s very wrong.”
“I’m on my way.” I press on the accelerator, this time, not caring if I break the speed limit. I cover the distance to her house in less than half the time it normally takes. Then screech to a halt in front of her apartment block. I’m out of the car before it’s come to a stop and racing across the sidewalk, up the steps and through the front door of the building. I call JJ’s number as I take the stairs two at a time.