Ascend (The Vampire Destiny Series Book #4) (27 page)

"They never do.  Fucking idiots." I eyed the photo a final time.  Her long blond hair spilled over her narrow shoulders and her tiny frame looked as fragile as porcelain.  And her face...there was something behind those baby blues that intrigued me.  It had been years since anything or anyone caught my attention.

The chime of the overhead seat belt sign pulled my eyes away from the magazine and I strapped it on for the sake of appearing human.  It was tiring on my best days but today it was mind-numbingly monotonous.

Malcolm closed up the magazine and rolled it up tightly.  He tapped it against his knee nervously, a human trait he’d never been able to lose.  "So what's the plan this time?"

I grinned widely at my old friend.  "We need to learn how to fit in with the masses.  It's time to change how we operate.  It’s time to hide in plain sight."

He ran his fingers through his wavy hair.  His eyes were filled with curiosity.  "Do tell."

"All in good time, Malcolm." I reassured him and stretched my legs out in front of me.  "What was her name?"

"Who?  The girl from the…uh, ad?”  He opened the magazine and paged through the article.  “Savannah Wood.  You're not going soft on me are you, Nick?"

"You wish.  I just hope her parents have a shrink on retainer.  She's going to need it." The plane began its descent.  Sucking back another deep breath, I welcomed the relentless burn.  "Welcome to Los Angeles, my friend."

Chapter 1-One Look Was All It Took

Nine years later….

Siobhan had dragged me to yet another Hollywood party.  They were typically boring, filled with egotistical actors, spoiled actresses and the occasional arrogant music industry type that had been lucky enough to mingle with the so-called Hollywood elite.  Personally, I think these events border on the ridiculous.  But I might be a tad biased since I grew up attending these parties, plastering on fake smiles and going through the motions of acting as if it all mattered.  Really, in the grand scheme of things it really didn’t.

I'm not an actress or a singer.  My name is Savannah Wood.  I've lived a relatively privileged life as the daughter of a high-profile divorce attorney to the stars, Carlton Wood.  Between my father and Siobhan, I know more dirt about celebrities than I really ever wanted to know.  And trust me when I tell you this: the celebrities that are marketed to be ‘America's Sweetheart’ or The ‘Boy Next Door’ usually have more secrets to hide than the train-wrecks you see in the tabloids.  And sadly those splashy rags in the checkout lanes at grocery stores are usually right on.

If I chose to, I could likely spend my time star fucking my way through Hollywood, cashing in on the sizable allowance my father sent me each month.  That wasn't who I was.  I didn't want to be famous for being a STD-riddled, D-list slut famous for nothing except how many celebrities I could bed.  I suppose I was the exception, not the rule.

It was bad enough that my mother had forced me into a brief modeling stint after my father divorced her when I was 16.  She thought it would be fun to live vicariously through me.  I'm probably best known for a series of controversial underwear ads for a famous designer known for his blue jeans.  They were only scandalous because I was 16 at the time and photographed in semi-compromising positions with a much older male model.

Draining the last of my lukewarm champagne, I placed it on a passing server's tray, smoothly grabbing another.  With a bored sigh I glanced around the room, barely paying attention to the conversations going on around me.

"You could at least pretend to look like you're having fun," Siobhan muttered under her breath.  She popped some sort of puff pastry in her mouth and nudged my arm with her elbow.

"Why would I want to do that? Bored is the new black," I grumbled back grouchily.  "You know I hate this ass kissing crap."

Siobhan Winters had been my best friend since we were both in diapers.  Our fathers were college frat buddies, both ending up in the entertainment industry.  It was ironic that Siobhan and I had followed in their footsteps in the business.  She ran a successful gossip blog, Private Eye.  I'd chosen to be a Personal Assistant, working my way to becoming an agent.

If I could find a job,
I mused to myself.  More on that depressing subject later.

Siobhan shook her head and took a drink of her champagne.  "Whatever.  No one forced you here.  By the way, you have an admirer, Blondie.  2 o'clock."

Attempting to be nonchalant, I looked slightly to my right.  Slouching against the wall was Nick Hart.  Known for his reserved, charismatic appeal, he wasn't like other singers in the business.  Not only was he sharp and witty, he managed to avoid the paparazzi at all cost with some sort of second sense.  He was a mystery, which made him more appealing to the public.  Add in his beguiling smile and dark, handsome boy next-door looks, he was a PR wet dream.  He didn't need photo ops or gossip sites.  He was hot, sexy and everyone wanted him.

"I'm sure he's not looking at me," I shot back.  I took a nervous sip and cleared my throat.

"Denial ain't just a river in Egypt," Siobhan quipped.  She tossed her long red hair over her shoulder.  "Seriously dude, he's been watching you for at least 20 minutes.  Why wouldn't he look at you? You're fabulous.  Go talk to him."  She gave me a sharp shove.

My mouth dropped.  I turned to face her, staring at her as if she'd lost her mind.  "What am I supposed to do? Just saunter up to him and say what exactly?  Something like 'I've noticed you staring, would you like to take me home and have your way with me?’"

Siobhan attempted to clap with her champagne flute in one hand.  She then pretended to wipe a tear away with her finger.  "Mama's so proud.  You're growing up."

Huffing, I rolled my eyes towards the ceiling.  "It's not happening, Von.  Sorry."

"He's a saint by Hollywood standards and he's fucking beautiful.  Can you imagine that body naked? I mean, look at the size of his..."

I cut her off before she could go any further.  "Yeah, yeah.  He's gorgeous.  And he doesn't date."

"Who said anything about dating? I'm talking about a much more casual type of encounter." Siobhan's eyebrows waggled suggestively.  "He's still staring and I can tell he is most definitely interested.  And what a coincidence - I see one of my contacts.  I gotta get the scoop.  I’ll be right back.  Make me proud!"

She sashayed across the room in a silver streak, leaving me alone to ogle Nick Hart over my cheap glass of champagne in my overpriced cocktail dress.

He hadn't moved from his spot on the wall.  I watched curiously as he took an occasional swallow from a whiskey glass, his dark eyes surveying the room with as much enthusiasm as I had.  His body language and look of disgust on his face gave it away.  I liked him better already.

He caught me staring, his lips curling back to reveal a mischievous smile and a set of deep dimples.  Even from across the room, I could see the bright gleam of his white teeth against the pale luminance of his skin.

With a pounding heart, I quickly looked away.  I focused intently on the floor before peeking up to see his eyes still piercing through me, his cell phone at his ear.  My fingers combed through my blond hair and I nervously tapped the side of my glass with a fingernail as I waited for Siobhan to return.

A few people I knew passed by and we exchanged casual hellos.  When I glanced back to where Nick had been standing, he was gone.  I couldn't help but be a little disappointed.  I'd enjoyed our brief flirtation, even if it had been mostly one-sided.

It was that exact moment Siobhan rejoined me.  She clicked her tongue in mock disapproval as she picked up on my obvious disappointment.  "You missed your chance.  You could have been the only woman in Hollywood to fuc-"

"I got it," I admonished her with a hiss.  "Are you ready to go?"

Her hazel eyes glittered with excitement.  "Yep, I have a story to write.  Wait until you read my post later tonight.  My photographer caught Marley Cirran snorting a certain white illegal substance up her nose like she was a Dyson vacuum."

"Another former child star gone bad? Color me shocked," I deadpanned.  I placed my half-empty glass down on a table and we headed out of the building towards the valet.  Siobhan fished her ticket out of her purse and extended it to one if the attendants.

"This is huge.  Savannah.  Like
big
, big.  Every media outlet is going to pick up my story.  Marley Cirran and her father have been pushing her goody-goody act down everyone's throats for the last four years.  He even paid off The National Inquisitor five months ago to stop them from running the real reason she was fired from her TV show."

The valet returned with her bright blue Porsche.  He leapt from the driver’s seat, darting around the car to open the passenger side for me.  Offering a nod of thanks, I sank into the soft leather seat next to Siobhan.

"This will ruin her career, you know," I advised softly.  As much as I disliked the annoying twit, she was only 18.  This exposé would kill her professionally.  No studio would insure her with the reputation she was earning with her out of control antics.  I knew what it was like to have the lens of a camera in your business 24/7.  Any miscalculated step would be broadcasted everywhere for everyone to see and judge.  And my experience had been nine years ago.  The Internet had made any kind of news available instantly – and the paparazzi moved like a pack of vicious hyenas, picking for any scrap of gossip.

Siobhan turned her hazel eyes my way, flashing me a sympathetic smile.  She knew from experience I was thinking of the hell I went through for six months after my modeling experience.  "This is nothing like you went through.  And I know what this will do to her career, if that’s what you want to call it.  She was sitting at a patio table at a restaurant in the Valley when she chose to publicly snort a vial of coke.  It's the way of Hollywood, Blondie.  Think of it like Darwinism, Los Angeles style."

"Survival of the fittest, huh?" I mused bitterly, my hands clenching in my lap.

She squealed away from the curb, dodging through traffic.  "Exactly.  Well, maybe like survival of the celebrity with the best agent and most brain cells.  You made it through and all you did was pose in some panties for a closeted gay designer.  No one was upset with
you
.  The paps were after you because you're gorgeous and were so naive.  You were like a breath of fresh air.  It was your mother they hated."

I knew Siobhan was right.  The media had systematically destroyed my mother.  She'd been called everything from a pedophile peddler to a vile opportunist.  After the ordeal, my mother and I rarely spoke.  I'd gone to live with my father shortly after the photos went live in every magazine from Vogue to Rolling Stone.  Not to mention the billboard on Times Square...

We drove in silence, neither of us speaking until she pulled up in front of my townhome.

"I'm sorry this upset you.  It's my job, Savannah," Siobhan said.  She patted my arm softly.  "I'll try to be nice when I write up the story."

Opening the car door, I swung my legs out and stood.  I stuck my head back inside the car.  "Von, do what you need to do.  It just hit close to home.  End of story.  Be careful."

Closing the door, I tapped the roof lightly.  She pealed away, her taillights disappearing down my street.  Tossing my keys in the air, I made my way up the sidewalk to my house.

I had quite the surprise waiting for me inside.

***

I hadn't expected to have a voice mail like this one waiting for me.  I was exhausted, kicking off my heels as soon as I'd locked the door behind me.  The light flashing on my phone alerted me to a message.  I pressed the button for my voicemail and let the message play through the speaker.

"Savannah, this is Elliott Winters.  I'd like you to stop by my office tomorrow around 11.  I have a job opportunity I'd like you to interview for...one of my clients is in need of a personal assistant.  This interview will be a two step process."

The message droned on to give me other basic information about the meeting.  The client’s name was never revealed.