Ten Thousand Words (37 page)

Those stories had been for me. There was no way I’d ever publish them. It was just something for me to read when I felt lonely and horny. They were also great reference material for later sex scenes between Lindsey and Donovan.

“I couldn’t let you hide them from the world, Elaine. Our passion has to be recognized. I only put my name on them to save you from being labeled as a whore. You’re
my
whore. No one else needs to know it’s us in those stories,”
George had told me, throwing me to the floor and desperately trying to tear the clothes off me.

Half-concussed already, I had still been fighting while dizzy, nauseated, and terrified. I’d kept thinking about how hard Rex and Ricki and Ronen had worked to keep people from becoming victims of sex crimes, and I was going to end up as one myself.

Irritatingly, the thought of Oliver dancing the night away with all the beautiful women he’d slept with kept popping into my head in between the nightmarish memories of George Kastor attempting to rape me. All of Oliver’s chick friends were ridiculously fit, stunning women who were born to walk down a runway and grace magazines.

Gabriella, Bianca, and Whitney were so stunning, it was painful to my ego.

It made me question how rational my brain was working.
Dr. McKenna will be getting a call tomorrow.

When sleep finally found me, I dreamed of Oliver smeared in supermodels, having orgiastic sex, while George sat on a black throne behind the writhing mass of groaning bodies, a pair of leathery black wings sprouting from his back.

An iron collar complete with a chain attachment was fixed around my neck. The chain was held in George’s clenched fist, and he kept wrapping it around, dragging me closer.

“You’re
my
whore. You’re
my
whore. You’re
my
whore,”
George kept repeating. “He can’t have you, Elaine.”

Needless to say, I woke up feeling even more depressed.

Trudging downstairs, I found Ricki making an extremely black pot of coffee, wearing only a pair of boxers. His hair and beard were sticking out in all sorts of angles, making him look wild. Briefly, I admired his physique, littered with all sorts of ink. He really was a cutie.

“Morning,” he said in his gravelly voice. “How’d you sleep?”

“Like shit. You?”

He shrugged. “Meh. Making a brew to fix that.”

I glanced at the clock on the wall—
9:47
. “Ugh.”

Grabbing my laptop, I set it up on the kitchen table. While it booted up, Ricki handed me a mug of coffee. Taking a sip, I cringed. It was a good thing it was too hot to taste.

“What should we do today?” he asked. “It’ll be good to go have some fun. Wanna go to De Wallen?”

“Eh,” I replied. I wasn’t up for the Red Light District. “Maybe we could see a movie or something?”

“Sure. What time does your man get back?”

“Um…I think he said around seven.”

Clicking on my social media accounts, I logged in to see what was going on with my author pages. I was going to post a photo of Oliver that he’d taken of himself and sent to me—just his smiling bushy face, looking adorable—but I could see someone else had beaten me to it.

Right there, on my Elaine H. Ford page, was a photo of Ollie and a woman…
kissing
…in a nightclub.

Whoever had posted it wrote,
Donovan has found his Lindsay!

“Holy fuck…” I whispered. My heart burst into flames, and the searing heat stung my eyes. They watered so quickly and spilled over; there was no pulling that shit back in.

“What?” Ricki barked, jumping up and coming around the table to see what had me so upset.

The woman had her arms around Ollie’s neck, and his hands were grasping her hips. The photo wasn’t professionally shot, so I knew it probably had nothing to do with the shoot. And I was pissed because Lindsey was spelled wrong on top of the raging hurt and jealousy I was feeling.

“Bullshit!” said Ricki.

As I got up, Ricki took my seat.

Adrenaline pumped hard through me. Grabbing my phone, I dialed the bastard up.

I’d had enough shit recently to fucking choke on it.

Ollie

As I got out of the shower, my phone was ringing Xanthe’s ringtone, Tesla’s “Love Song,” and I rushed out of the bathroom to get to it. I couldn’t wait to hear her voice. I’d missed her so much these past few days. I was dying to get home to her.

“Hey, love!”

“Fuck you!” she shouted. “What is this shit all over my author page?”

My heart dropped into my guts. “What are you talking about?”

Oh, shit, this isn’t good
. She was
furious
, mad enough to cause some damage. Scrambling for my tablet, I hurriedly found her author page.

“I’m talking about you making out with someone at the club last night and the picture of it plastered on my page, saying Donovan has found his Lindsey!”

“Love—”

“Shut up with the
love
bullshit!”

That stabbed me to my soul. She couldn’t honestly—

Fucking hell!
There it was! Whitney’s arms were wrapped around me, her face mashed on mine.

“What the fuck?” I breathed. “That is not what it looks like, Xanthe.”

“Was it part of the shoot?”

“No—”

“What? Did she trip and land on your face?” she asked sarcastically.

“No—”

“Then, there’s no excuse!”

“Calm down, love. Let me explain.”

“What can you possibly say—” She choked on a sob, and my heart broke. She was so hurt, so upset, and I felt helpless against it.

“Whitney kissed me. That’s it. I pushed her off me, and I told her then that I was in a relationship. Nothing else. It happened after we finished up the shoot. I swear, Xanthe.”

There was someone else with her trying to soothe her…
Ricki?
It sounded like him.

“I left right after that.
Alone
. I came straight to the hotel and passed out. I would have called you, but it was so late. I didn’t want to wake you or anything. Please…”

“Ollie, man…” came Ricki’s voice through the phone.

“Ricki, I swear—”

“It’s just a shitstorm time, all right? She’ll talk to you later.”

“No, put her on!”

“Just give her some space. She’ll see it soon enough.”

“See,
what
?”

“That you weren’t asking for it. But now isn’t a good time.”

“Why?”
I demanded.

“You’ll know soon enough. Just give her some time, and she’ll call when she’s over being angry.”

“Fuck this!” I raged.

“Suit yourself,” he said before hanging up.

Calling back sent me straight to her voice mail.

“Xanthe, please,
please
, believe me. I’m sorry you had to see that, but I swear to God, it was nothing. Don’t go breaking our hearts over something as meaningless as this! I would never do that to you!”

After the fourth attempt, I was hit with a revelation.

Whitney had come up and kissed me, which had surprised me, to say the least. We’d never been like that. Our liaisons had always been private, nothing publicly displayed. But the spot from where the picture had been taken—

Gabriella.
That bitch!

Throwing on some clothes, I charged across the hall and pounded on her door. I hoped to hell I woke her skinny arse up because I was going to make the rest of her life miserable if she’d just cost me the love of mine.

The door opened, and I shoved my way inside. “You fucking bitch!” I roared.

“Ollie, what—”

“Don’t you fucking
what
me! You thought that stunt you pulled was cute? Did you tell Whitney to kiss me just so you could take the picture?”

Gabriella went pale. “I-I don’t kn-know—”

“Fucking lie to me again!” I screamed in her face.

I took a menacing step toward her, and she scuttled back until she was pressed against the wall.

“Ollie, I—”

Fury pumped through me, and I got up in her face. “Did you fucking tell her to do that, Gabriella?”

She swallowed, her pulse racing in her neck. I’d have loved nothing more in that moment than to wrap my hand around it and squeeze until her face turned purple. Suddenly, I hated every fucking thing about this woman.

“Yes,” she replied.

“You realize that you are dead to me, right?” I said softly. “Whatever you wanted out of this, I hope it was worth it. Because it doesn’t matter if Xanthe destroys me or not, I will still love her. If you thought that you could take that away from me, from
her
, then you were sadly mistaken.”

Tears spilled out of her eyes and down her cheeks. “I—”

“More than
anyone
, she deserves my love. She
earned
it. What you’ve done is make my woman doubt her self-worth. She has suffered enough in life already, has faced pain neither you nor I could ever comprehend. To make her feel like she isn’t good enough for me…for that, I will never forgive you.” I took a step back, disgusted to breathe the same air as the bitch. “If you have caused damage that I cannot fix, I will destroy you.”

“What?”

“I’m calling Trey,” I told her. “Start looking for a new agent.”

Gabriella looked faint, and I couldn’t feel happier for that.

“I need to lie down,” she said, gasping for air.

She made it to the bed and collapsed upon it. I left, slamming the door on her sobs. Back in my room, I made my threat a reality, calling Trey and telling him he could lose either Gabriella or me. After I told him what she had done, my brother said she was as good as gone.

“I’m sorry, Oliver. She’s overstepped herself.”

“You think?” I raged. “I need to change my seating arrangements or book a different flight.”

“Speaking of which…”

“Oh God, what now?”

“You’re flying to London tomorrow for a few hours. Nothing big, I promise! The Sophisticated Caveman need you for some photos and a quick interview. You’re their new favorite spokesman.”

“Damn it.”

“I’ll see what I can do about the seating, okay? I’ll call back and let you know.”

“If you can’t fix it, I’m taking a different flight.”

“Okay, okay.”

I hung up and tried calling Xanthe. Again, I got the voice mail. I should be grateful. At least she hadn’t blocked me.

“Xanthe, I confronted Gabriella, and she admitted that she told Whitney to kiss me, so she could get a picture of it. She’s been fired from FairFawkes and everything. I…I’m so sorry, love. So fucking sorry…” I wanted to tell her I loved her, but I hadn’t told her in person yet. “Please…I’m dying here.”

“It’s just a shitstorm time, all right?”

Ricki’s words kept replaying in my head. One thing that made me feel better was that he obviously didn’t think I had done anything wrong. However, I was coming to grips with the fact that something very wrong was going on with Xanthe, and she hadn’t told me about it.

Will she always be keeping things from me? Or is it that I only need to prove to her I’m worthy of her?
I seriously hoped it was the latter.

Trey did one better than having my seat moved. He had Gabriella moved to coach. As she was several people ahead of me in line for check-in, I was hoping to witness an ugly tantrum. If she had been surprised by the change, she didn’t show it. After I was seated in first class, she passed by me into coach without a glance.

It’s the small things really.

While it felt like it was taking forever to get home, I was also dreading what was waiting for me. If Xanthe had decided that she didn’t want to be in a relationship with me…I didn’t know what I would do. I wouldn’t be able to accept it. I’d start stalking her, force her to see that we were meant for each other. I would scream from the rooftops of my undying love and respect for her.

She isn’t going to end it. She feels it, too. She’s pissed and rightfully so, but she has to know that I would never, ever, ever do that to her.

When the plane finally landed and the passengers were able to disembark, I was the first one off. Trey had told me he would be picking me up, and I was all but running out of the terminal to get to him.

“I have to find Xanthe, Trey,” I told him, panting as I came up to him.