Hold Me Close (Bridgewater County Book 4) Page 13
Maria looked genuinely concerned. We’d been together long enough that I knew she was actually worried about me, even if only because her job depended on my career remaining stable. The professional barrier kept us from being friends, but since she was the closest thing to one I had in L.A., I decided to confide in her.
“You’re right. It’s more than burnout. I’m lonely, Maria. It’s just me when I’m home and it’s even worse when I’m touring. Please don’t tell me I have all these ‘adoring fans’.” I could air quote at key moments, too. “I don’t—well, I do want fans. Obviously. But I can’t be sustained by the fickle love of billions of strangers, especially since the person they’re really drawn to is a fictional character. A series of them. Oh, you know what I mean.”
Maria nodded slowly. “I think I do. So—what about Chris? Would it really be so bad to be more than casual with him?” At my dry look, she wrinkled her nose and laughed. “Okay, yeah, stupid question. He’s an arrogant, self-important mess.”
Not to mention a user, but I didn’t need to tell Maria that. She was well aware of how my affiliation with Chris benefitted his career. Mine? Not so much. I was already the sweetheart of the big screen. Our so-called engagement was pure fiction, dreamed up by the PR company that represented both Chris and me.
“He’s…I don’t know. Chris just isn’t what I want.”
I wanted love, the sweet, simple, uncomplicated kind of love my sister had found. What good were money and stardom if nobody wanted the real me? The woman, not the star? And Chris didn’t even know who the real me was. He didn’t care.
Poor Maria didn’t deserve this heavy conversation so I shrugged and gave her a wan smile. “Okay, book me the retreat. Make sure it has plenty of long, hot baths. I only have two weeks between now and the next tour. Let’s make them count.”
“Yes! That’s the Lacey Lee I know and love.” Maria clapped her hands and then whipped out her tablet.
As she fired off retreat options, I picked up the stack of tabloids. The glow of the tablet screen made the headlines seem lurid and too ridiculous for words.
La-Chris was an absurd couple name. Chr-acey was even worse, but at least the sentiment was right. Crazy was just the word for all of this.
One headline made me huff a laugh. Maria glanced up. I brandished the paper at her. “Rock4Ever? What is this, a time machine back to the nineties?”
Maria didn’t get a chance to answer. The car slowed in front of my house, which was lit up like Christmas. Trucks and cars alike parked up the driveway and the lawn.
“Holy shit.” Maria leaned over me to look out the window, eyes bugging out. “Is that a tour bus?”
“What’s going on?”
Maria and I looked at each other. At the same time, we both groaned, “Chris.”
Nobody else would have the nerve to turn my million-dollar house into a freaking party palace. Especially while it was well known I was in Asia. Or had been.
Music pumped from every window, so loud I could hear it inside the car. As I watched, horrified, three women I didn’t know pranced out the front door, stark naked, carrying wine glasses and passing a joint between themselves.
Maria made a disgusted sound. “I can’t believe this. Stay here. I’m going to clean this mess up and get rid of Chris.”
I reached for the door first and waved her back. “No, don’t. You go home. I’ll handle this myself.”
I might not have any control over the media’s portrayal of my so-called love life, but I could sure as heck tell one person the truth. If Chris thought he had a right to anything I’d busted my butt to earn, he was dead wrong.
Flinging open the car door, I grabbed my carry-on and marched right through the pack of drunk groupies. My front door was hanging wide open. That would have been perfect for my dramatic entrance except for one thing.
Chris wasn’t there to see it.
The people who were around were either too blitzed to notice me or they just didn’t care that they’d been caught trashing my home. They probably didn’t even know whose home they were in. And why would they care? Chris’s people were all from the rock scene, musicians and groupies. A rager of a party was the norm. Mine was probably the third house or hotel they’d wrecked this week.
Head pounding from the blasting music and the wicked strobe lights someone had installed, I wandered from room to room. When I didn’t find Chris on the first floor, I headed upstairs, avoiding empty beer cans and carelessly strewn panties.
I didn’t even bother checking the guest rooms. If Chris had the nerve to invade my house, he wouldn’t behave like a guest. Following the trail of discarded clothes and shoes, I walked through my open bedroom door to a sight that would have shocked me at eighteen.
Some blonde I didn’t know was on all fours on my bed while Chris pumped away behind her. Up until this moment, I’d walked through the house with a sort of numb sensation, my vision freaking out over the light show. Now the numbness evaporated and sharp clarity rushed me.
I didn’t want this. I didn’t want any of it. Not the huge house I’d purchased because that’s what L.A. stars did, not the famous rocker boyfriend fans thought completed my image. Not the drugs, parties, and endless travel.
I didn’t want any of it. I was done. D.O.N.E.
Leaving my bag beside the door, I walked over to stand directly in front of Chris and his groupie.
Chris didn’t display an ounce of shame when he saw me. The opposite, in fact. He grabbed his sex toy’s hips and jerked her ass against his groin lewdly. He was drop-dead gorgeous. Tousled blond hair, square jaw, perfect body. Even his dick was good looking. But he disgusted me. Nothing about him appealed to me—even before I had to stand here and watch him fuck someone else. “This cock’s occupied, Lace. If you want in on the action, you’ll have to ask my lady friend for some tongue.”
“Your lady friend.” My eyebrows couldn’t possibly rise any farther. “You know what, whatever. I’m not going to ask. You and your lady friend need to get off my bed before I call the cops.”
With one hand, he reached around and cupped a very fake breast. “You wouldn’t.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Yes. I would.” I didn’t realize I was shaking until I jabbed my finger toward the door. “Get out. Both of you.”
The blonde flipped her long hair back and gave me a dirty look. “Bitch, ever heard of waiting for your turn?”
I held up my hands and took a step back. Then another. “You know what. I’m not doing this.”
Turning, I grabbed the house phone off the nightstand.
“For fuck’s sake, Lacey.” Chris pushed his partner away and looked around the room, condom covered dick glistening. I wasn’t sure if I should gag from the porno in front of me or if I should be impressed he used protection.
“If you’re trying to find your pants, they’re on the stairs. You can put them on while you’re on your way out of my life.”
His shoulders stiffened but his erection flagged. “What did you say?”
“You heard me. I’m not doing this anymore. I won’t be associated with you, not even in the tabloids. When our PR firm wants to know what went wrong, you can sort it out.”
His lip curled back in a sneer. “Fine. I don’t need your stuck-up bitch face to get me where I’m going. I was only into you for the connection, to get the world looking at my band. I’ve got that now and I don’t need you anymore.” He climbed off the bed. “You know what, Lacey? Go ahead, call the fucking cops. Get the press in here, too. Let’s make this break-up official.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone in the doorway. I whipped my head around to find someone from the party had already found us. The guy wore a stage crew t-shirt across his narrow chest and a had his phone pointed at me, Chris and the blonde who, instead of scrambling away in shame, had dropped to her knees on the carpeted floor and devoted herself to reviving Chris’s limp dick.
“Put that away,” I growled.
“Fuck, n
o. Keep it out. Let’s get this on camera.” Chris fisted the blonde’s hair and pressed deep into her mouth until she gagged.
That was my breaking point. Slamming the phone down, I turned my back on Chris and everything else, stopping only long enough to grab my clutch from my carry-on. I didn’t need the police. Chris and his party people would leave eventually. My staff would do damage control on the house and my public image tomorrow.
Or they wouldn’t. I pushed past the guy in the doorway, down the stairs and out the front door—which still stood open. The fresh air did nothing to make me feel better. As I called for another car to pick me up and settled on the curb at the end of the driveway to wait, I realized I didn’t care whether anybody cleaned up this mess or not.
I just didn’t care. I needed out. Away. I just didn’t know where to go.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Vanessa Vale is the USA Today Bestselling author of over 30 books, sexy romance novels, including her popular Bridgewater historical romance series and hot contemporary romances featuring unapologetic bad boys who don't just fall in love, they fall hard. When she's not writing, Vanessa savors the insanity of raising two boys, is figuring out how many meals she can make with a pressure cooker, and teaches a pretty mean karate class. While she's not as skilled at social media as her kids, she loves to interact with readers.
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VANESSA VALE BOOKS
Outlaw Brides Series
Flirting With The Law
MMA Fighter Romance Series
Fight For Her
Bridgewater County Series
Ride Me Dirty
Claim Me Hard
Take Me Fast
Hold Me Close
Make Me Yours
Mail Order Bride of Slate Springs Series
A Wanton Woman
A Wild Woman
A Wicked Woman
Bridgewater Menage Series
Their Runaway Bride
Their Kidnapped Bride
Their Wayward Bride
Their Captivated Bride
Their Treasured Bride
Their Christmas Bride
Their Reluctant Bride
Their Stolen Bride
Their Brazen Bride
Their Bridgewater Brides- Books 1-3 Boxed Set
Wildflowers Of Montana Series
Rose
Hyacinth
Dahlia
Daisy
Lily
Montana Maidens Series
Claiming Catherine
Taming Tessa
Dominating Devney
Submitting Sarah
Montana Men Series
The Lawman
The Cowboy
The Outlaw
Western Widows
Sweet Justice
Mine To Take
Relentless
Sleepless Night
Man Candy
The Alien's Mate: Cowgirls and Aliens