Closely Guarded Secret (17 page)

“Are you on your laptop?” My words sound garbled and I don’t know if I made sense.

“Yes. Shhh, go to sleep. Goodnight, Beautiful.” That’s the last thing I remember hearing before drifting off.

“Bryce, wait. Please, let me explain. It’s not what you think. Please come back and let me explain.” He stops and turns to me, his mouth turned up in a wicked, deadly smile. As he walks toward me, I see it’s not him at all.” Thomas, get away from me”. Oh my god, no.

“No! No!” I wake up screaming, kicking my feet as though I’m trying to run. They’re tangled in the sheets and I can’t get them out. Jolting upright, trying to recover from my panic, I throw off the covers and jump out of bed. I fumble for the light before grabbing my phone. What I was doing before I fell asleep? Bryce. I was talking to Bryce. I want to talk to him now, but seeing it’s after midnight, I’m afraid I’ll wake him. Screw it. I’ll take the chance. His phone rings and rings, and doesn’t go to voice mail. Is it possible he sleeps this soundly?

On shaky legs, I walk downstairs, grabbing the rail to steady myself as I go. The house is quiet, much too quiet for my liking. Sitting at the kitchen table, I try to remember if there was something else to my dream, but I can’t. It’s now fading away, like a distant memory, or a photo which has been sitting in the sun for decades.

My mind’s weary as I lie back in bed. I can’t get comfortable. I toss and turn, waiting for sleep to come. Sleeping pills used to help, but I haven’t needed them for years, and I don’t want to take them again. I notice it’s almost two in the morning. We have an important client today and I need to be on top of my game. Finally, in a comfortable position, I feel sleep coming on. Please, don’t let me dream.

“
O
nly one day to go before you see him again,” I think out loud to myself as I apply mascara. Today’s going to be a better day. As I bound downstairs, the house is void of noise. Steven must not have come home last night. Before getting into my car, I have that feeling again of being watched. I scan the area but don’t see anything. Those damned dreams are making me paranoid. I shrug it off. Bryce calls as I’m driving to work. I press the speaker button on the steering wheel and his baritone voice surrounds me. I giggle to myself. Bryce in stereo.

He sounds exhausted. “Ali, I’m glad I caught you before you got to work.”

“I’m a lucky woman, then.” I joke. “I’m on my way now. I have a few things to do before the shoot this afternoon.” My phone beeps and I see its Jodi. She can wait. I’m on my way to the office. Continuing, I say, “I’m sorry I called so late last night.”

“I went out and forgot my phone. I saw your missed call when I returned but it was late.” There’s a hint of nervousness to his voice.

“I thought you were someone who could sleep through a bomb going off.” I try not to let his tone freak me out. Jodi beeps in again. She’s so impatient but I ignore her call.

“There’s something I need to tell you.” Those words have my full attention.

“Oh? What?” I ask as a feeling of dread washes over me.

“When I was out last night . . .”

At that exact moment, Jodi beeps in again and I don’t want to interrupt Bryce, but I know I should answer. “Bryce, Jodi’s calling. She’s called twice now. Could you hold on for a minute?”

“Sure.” He sounds relieved for the interruption.

“Hi, Jodi. What’s going on?”

“It’s about the shoot today. The client called and was adamant about you doing the shoot alone. I told her you would have an assistant with you.”

“I don’t understand. I don’t know who it is.” I can’t believe I didn’t research the person I’m photographing. Trina took care of everything. All I have to do is show up. Since I’ve met Bryce, he occupies my thoughts and my time. I need to find the balance between him and my career.

I hear her inhale deeply. “Since when do you not research your clients? That’s not like you, Ali.”

I’m eager to get back to Bryce. “I’ve had a lot going on these past few days. I have someone holding on the other line. I’m almost to work, so I’ll see you in a minute. Okay?”

“Come directly to my office when you get here,” she says, then the line goes silent.

I click back over to Bryce. “Hey, sorry about that. What is it you need to tell me?”

“Not a problem,” he continues, “Ali, last night when I was out, I ran into Mara.”

As the words sink in, I try to stay calm. Is this the real reason he didn’t answer his phone? Images of the pictures of them together flip through my mind. All the pictures I’ve taken of her by his side cloud my thoughts.

“I was at a dinner function, and she was the last person I expected to run into.”

My stomach churns, and I don’t want to hear anymore, fearful of what he’s going to say happened. “I just got to work. I need to go,” I say with no feeling to my words.

“Ali, please. Don’t hang up.”

I interrupt before he can finish, “Bryce, I have to go.” My brain says let him explain, but my heart is in conflict. I need time to process this new information. Is the universe trying to tell me something? Within the past three weeks, my life has been a whirlwind. Before I met him, everything was fine; I was detached from these emotions, which I’m feeling ten-fold now.

The weight of my emotions fall to my feet and every slow motion step I take is more painful than the last. I don’t know how much more I can handle before I crack. Maybe I should drive myself to the nearest psych ward, check myself in, and tell them not to let me out.

Ever.

Standing outside Jodi’s office, I hesitate before knocking and walking in.

“Good grief, Ali. Were you in a wreck or something? You have no color in your face at all.”

“No.” I try to put Bryce out of my mind.

“I’ll be right back,” she says as I sit down.

My phone vibrates with a text. I know I can’t ignore my phone all day. He’s not the only person who calls me.

*Ali, please talk to me. Call me back. *

I can’t right now. If he tells me what I’m thinking is true, I need to prepare myself. If people don’t want to get found out, then why do some feel the need to come clean? Sure, it clears their consciences, but makes the person they’re being truthful with feel like shit. Idiots.

Jodi comes back in with some water and hands it to me. “Are you all right? I think you’ve turned more pale since I left.”

“Who is our client this morning?” I ask, ignoring her question.

“Mara. Mara Sharp. Ms. Socialite, former debutante, herself.”

My day just got worse, but my curiosity is on high alert. “Why did she ask for me to come alone?”

“I don’t know. Of course, you’re not going alone. I don’t care who she is, who her daddy is, or the fact that she’s dating Bryce Steede. Nobody dictates to me who I send on a job,” Jodi declares. The only thing I hear is ‘she’s dating Bryce Steede.’

“I wasn’t aware they were exclusive. I mean, from all the photos of him with different women.” My voice sounds distant, even to me.

“I don’t think anyone knew. I’m not sure he’s aware of it either,” Jodi laughs. “I didn’t know until Mara told me at least twice during our conversation. Look, I can get someone else to cover for you if you’re not feeling well.”

I give her a weak but reassuring smile. “I’m fine, just a bit of a headache.” I question myself if I should do the shoot, but this is my job and I don’t want to raise red flags. Feeling like my feet are set in cement, I shuffle back to my office.

My phone rings again. I look down at the screen, but don’t answer. A few seconds later, there’s another text, all in caps this time. Yeah, like that’s going to make me talk to you.

*DAMN IT, ALI. ANSWER YOUR PHONE. I NEED TO TALK TO YOU. *

Swiveling side to side in my chair, I debate what to do. I can’t ignore him all day and I know if I don’t acknowledge him, he’ll keep calling and texting. He may think I’m playing games, and that’s anything but what I’m doing. I decide to call and hear him out.

“Ali, I’m glad you called,” he blurts out the minute he answers.

“You should have a chance to say your piece,” I say with little emotion.

“I want you to know she means nothing to me.” Oh, god. I know what’s he’s going to say next.

“It’s good to know that when you sleep with somebody they mean nothing to you,” I spit the words at him. “I’m glad you cleared that up, so we can go our separate ways with a clear conscience.”

“Is that what you think?”

“You just alluded to it Bryce. I’m only repeating it.”

“You think we slept together?”

“Didn’t you?” I hope he can hear the bitterness in my voice.

“It’s not what you think and no, we didn’t. Do you think so little of me to do that?” His tone is stern and I hear the hurt through his anger.

“You two have history and . . .” he cuts me off

“We’re over. We’ve been over. I don’t know how many ways I can tell you this. We didn’t sleep together last night.” He’s frustrated with me and right now, I can’t blame him. “She mentioned you’re the photographer for a story your magazine’s doing on her and charities she supports. You hadn’t said anything and I didn’t want her telling you she saw me and making up something that never happened.”

“Why would she request for me to be her photographer?”

“She knows I’m seeing you. How, I don’t know,”

The only way is if she’s having him followed. Stalker doesn’t even begin to describe her. What’s her game? What does she have planned? Is she having me followed also? That would explain those feelings of being watched.

“I’m worried about you being alone with her when I’m not there. I don’t think she would personally harm you, but she does play head games. I told her again to stay out of my life.”

“How many times will you have to tell her before she gets it? Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.” I haven’t told him I practice martial arts.

“I’m all for taking the high road in certain situations, but she’s become so unpredictable.”

“I’ve mentioned it before, but have you thought about a restraining order? I mean, if you’re worried and think she’s unstable?” I ask.

“It’s not necessary, not right now.” It’s not my place to push this issue, so I don’t.

“I won’t be by myself. She’ll be treated like any other client. Besides, you’re not the only one who can kick ass and take names.” That makes me smile a little, and I hope him as well. I continue, “Thank you for explaining. I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions.”

“When I heard the hurt in your voice . . .” He trails off. “I don’t want to hurt you.” His sincerity comes through loud and clear.

I feel awful for not trusting him. “I know I should have given you the benefit of the doubt, but I didn’t. Be patient with me? I’m trying.”

“I know this is all new to you, and I’m a patient man. Remember, I don’t want her. I want you.” His tone sounds more of a command.

“I will.”

“Thank you for not shutting the door on us,” he says.

I want to feel his mouth on mine, and I close my eyes, willing it to happen. “Bryce . . .” I quietly say his name, not meaning to say it out loud.

“I can’t wait to see you,” he whispers.

His words put my mind at ease. “I can’t wait for that either.” I notice the time. “I need to go. I have work to do.”

“Okay, baby. Call me when you’ve finished.” He sounds anxious. I can tell it’s killing him not being here to manage the situation himself.

I’m smiling like a fool as I hang up. Now that I know the truth, I’m ready for Mara.

She’s rich and crazy. Not a good combo.

#

House after house showcases the lush, manicured ‘not a blade of grass out of place,’ lawns. Tree branches, trimmed to perfection, sway in the light breeze, while the varied picturesque architecture of Pacific Heights makes for a majestic backdrop. Mara’s house is no exception. Too bad her personality can’t be as beautiful.

I ring Mara’s doorbell several times with no response, so I call Jodi. “Hi Jodi. Trina and I’ve been here for fifteen minutes but Ms. Sharp isn’t answering.”

“Oh, you have to go to the door attendant in the lobby. He’ll take you up.”

Now I’m perplexed. “What? Take us up where? Her house doesn’t have a lobby or a door man,”

“Oh, I’m sorry Ali. I thought I sent the new location to Trina. Ms. Sharp’s representative called yesterday with a location change. It’s now at Mr. Steede’s penthouse.”

I take a huge, deep breath trying to keep my feelings in check. I count to ten before speaking. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work and my words seep out through gritted teeth like lava boiling into the sea from a volcano. “I see. Okay. So.” I pause, “that’s where we’ll go.”

“For some reason, it doesn’t seem like this photo shoot is meant to be,” Jodi says in an exasperated voice.

Shit. You can say that again. Mara is becoming a festering thorn in my side – no, make that my heart. We’re late, so I’m driving like a mad woman, with Trina holding on to the grab bar and the dash. I’m lucky to get a parking spot directly across the street. I tell Trina I need to make a quick call, so she waits outside the car.

“Bryce Steede.”

“Don’t you have my number programmed into your phone so you know it’s me?”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t expecting your call so soon. Have you finished already?”

“Nope. We went to her house but she wasn’t there.”

“Did she cancel?”

“Not exactly. She changed the location of the shoot.”

“Are you on your way there?”

“We’re here now, waiting outside. The new location is your penthouse. I wanted to call you before I go up.”

There’s dead silence on the other end.

“Don’t go up there. Wait where you are. I’ll call you back.” He hangs up without another word.

Trina opens the car door. “We need to wait here for a few minutes, why don’t you get in.” I tell her, not taking my eyes off the front of the building.

A few minutes pass, then Charles’s SUV screeches around the corner, disappearing into the garage. Time is moving like molasses. My brain is working overtime, and the suspense is killing me.

“Wait here,” I say to Trina.

If Jodi taught me anything, it’s to stay professional at all times, even when you want to scream and rip your hair out. This is my job and I wouldn’t know how to explain to Trina or Jodi why I left. I know I should stay far away from Mara. She’s cornered the market on ‘crazy.’ I’m beginning to wonder if being with Bryce is worth dealing with all this drama Mara brings.

I walk purposefully to the door attendant and announce myself. “I’m Alixandra Quinn, photographer with The Bridge. I have an appointment in the penthouse.” Not missing a beat, I show him my credentials.