Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 103008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
I pray it’s still quiet on the paparazzi front when we get home, but knowing the cameras and security system Iris set up are watching, I’ll have to wait until we’re inside anyway.
As we pull up to the house, I realize that’s probably not an option either.
“Why’s Jamie’s car here?” I ask.
“I have no idea.”
She usually parks on the street, but she’s parked right out front. It’s not a big deal, but considering she’s not supposed to be here, and this is not routine, my bodyguard senses are tingling. Call it gut instinct.
I don’t want to leave him out here, and I don’t want to scare him, so we head inside, but I’m cautious enough to have Harley at my back.
Jamie’s pacing the kitchen when we find her, and it’s obvious I’m right. Something’s wrong.
“What happened?” I ask.
Harley goes to step around me, but I don’t let him get far. I keep him at my side.
“So, uh, my phone died, and I don’t have my charger, and yours is a stupid Android—”
Harley coughs. “Awesome Android.” He coughs again.
“Whatever. Anyway, I didn’t know what to do, so I came here, but now I’m wondering if I should’ve gone to Gideon and talked to him or maybe Brix or …” She gazes at Harley sympathetically.
“What is it?” Harley asks. “You’re freaking me out. Is it another stupid tabloid story?” His eyes widen. “Does someone know? Like, know, know.”
She shakes her head. “It’s not the tabloids.” She has an envelope in her hands. “This came for you through the fan mail PO box.”
“So I have another crazy fan. Is that all?”
If it was another harmless fan, she wouldn’t be here.
“It’s …” Her gaze flicks to mine. “It’s from … uh, the guy. Billy Webber.”
The blood drains from Harley’s face.
“Fuck.” I reach for the letter. “For future reference, if this shit happens, you come straight to me. I don’t care if your phone is dead, your car battery died, or what the hell ever. You come to me.”
“O-okay.” She looks down at her feet.
That might’ve been harsh, but this is a security threat, no matter what the letter says. Which, as I open it and begin to read, I can’t decide if this is trying to torment Harley further or reassure him somehow.
“What’s it say?” Harley asks. It’s obvious he’s not sure if he wants to know because he makes no move to try to take it from me to read it himself.
“It’s an apology. Of sorts.” If victim blaming can be considered a form of an apology. “It basically says he’s sorry for any stress he caused, and that it was a genuine misunderstanding. But …”
“But?”
“But ‘Your charismatic charm is hard to resist, and I had to take my chance even if it was small. You made me feel a connection that you claim wasn’t there.’”
Jamie makes a derisive noise. “If that’s not a rapist’s motto right there.”
I glare at her. While she has a point, that doesn’t help.
“I-I don’t understand.” Harley wraps his arms around himself. “This breaks his probation, right? He’s not supposed to contact me or come near me. Can we call the cops or something?”
“Or something,” I mutter.
“What?”
“This”—I hold up the letter—“violates the terms of the restraining order and his probation, so yeah, we could send him to jail if we wanted to.”
“Or? It sounds like you have a better idea.”
“Or we ignore it. He might be doing this to get a reaction out of you. This is a major stalker tactic here. If he wants attention and he gets it, his behavior could escalate. Or he might actually want to say he’s sorry. Having him arrested for that might piss him off.”
“And if we ignore him and that pisses him off?”
“Then I’ll be here, and trust me, I’m begging for a reason to go after this guy. All I need is one justifiable reason.”
Harley looks like he could vomit.
“Hey.” I approach him and reach for his shoulders. “I’m here. I’ll be here. You don’t need to worry about this. That’s my job.”
Harley closes the small gap between us and presses himself against me.
“I’m here,” I whisper into his hair. “You have nothing to worry about.” I wrap my arms around him to hold him tighter.
Harley’s body is tense against mine, and I want to do everything I can to reassure him that he’s safe.
His lifestyle is bullshit if you ask me. Even when he gets a rare sense of normal like today at the beach, it’s taken away tonight by the ugly side of fame reappearing. It’s like he doesn’t ever get a break from it. He has to take the great with the shit, and I dunno how he does it.
“I’m tired,” he mumbles.
“Okay, let’s get you to bed, and I’ll order food, and—”
“No. Don’t invite a stranger to the house.” His gaze meets mine, and it breaks my heart. “Please.”