The Monster of Fame (The Price of Fame Series) (16 page)

Tears burned in her eyes as she read the vicious article. It slated her weight and her poverty stricken roots. As if that wasn’t enough insults, they compared her with Cassie and questioned what had gotten into the music mogul that he’d lowered himself to slumming it with the plainest contestant on the show.

She only made it halfway through the article before her hands were trembling and her vision blurry. She dropped the paper back on the coffee table, knowing it was no use trying to read it. The tears flowed freely down her cheeks and she bent forward, leaning her head into her hands.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” She felt Miles pull her toward him, and she sobbed onto his designer t-shirt, leaving it tear-stained and quite possibly ruined.

“Annabelle, talk to me.” Anxious hands ran over her back, trying to soothe, but all she could see were the horrible words. They’d really gone to town tearing her apart. What on earth had she done to offend them?

Miles pulled her down to the sofa and cradled her in his lap, all the while stroking her back, her hair, and murmuring reassuring words. She couldn’t bear it anymore. All her hard work, all her fear, her hope, her iron-clad determination, and all the effort to make herself strong over these last few weeks could be ruined by one article.

Then there were her feelings for Miles himself. Such powerful, all-consuming feelings with passion, carnal desire, and a love she’d never before known. Now reality hit home. Hard.

What
was
he doing with her?

“Please, tell me what’s wrong?” His broken plea sobered her a bit, but she knew she was nowhere near finished crying yet.

Anna reached over and pulled the paper from the table, handing it to him wordlessly. She rose from his lap and walked over to the window, staring out at the warm evening sun casting over the busy streets below. It was silent for a moment, then she heard the sound of paper rustling.

A string of creative insults and profanities poured from Miles’s mouth, each one laced with venom and she turned to him, her still damp eyes wide with shock. She’d never heard anyone use that language, especially all at the same time.

His face flamed with anger and his jaw was so rigid she was sure he’d worn down some of his back teeth. Once he’d finished with the paper, he tore it up violently and threw the shredded strips onto the wooden floor. He rose from the sofa and looked at her, the raw terror in his eyes overshadowing his anger.

“It’s only words, words of a…well, you already know what I think of him.” He was in front of her in a second, his eyes pleading. “Don’t listen to it. It’s a load of rubbish.”

Anna leaned into his chest, salty water still running down her face. “It’s true,” she sobbed.

What was she doing? Didn’t she spend Friday evening insisting she was strong? If she couldn’t hold it together after one bad article, how would she convince him she’d be able to do it for the rest of her life?

His hands circled her upper arms and he pushed her back to glare at her. “No. It’s. Not. You’re the sexiest woman I know. On top of that you’re kind, caring, and good to the core.”

But there was something she couldn’t quite identify shadowing his expression and she wondered if he truly meant what he said. Unable to deal with anything else right now, she broke away from his hold and went to collect her things from his room.

“Annabelle, where are you going?” He was right behind her, but she didn’t turn back.

Everyone she knew called her Anna, a shortened version of her name. Jess claimed it was because her full name was a mouthful. Miles had never called her just Anna. She’d secretly hoped it was because he cared about her enough to make the effort to recite her full name, but that wasn’t important now. She needed to get out of there before she did something stupid.

Like breaking down in front of him.

Anna swiped her bag off the floor at the side of the bed and took one last look at his bedroom. It was such a guy room, with a dark blue paint job, basic furniture—no doubt from somewhere like John Lewis—and a massive king-sized bed with blue silk sheets which were rumpled and smelled of both their scents mingled with the faint sweaty aroma of sex.

More tears filled her eyes and she shook her head, hoping to pull herself together enough so he would let her leave.

When she turned, she saw Miles blocking the doorway. He wasn’t going to let her go quietly. She was about to fall to pieces and he was going to make her do it here. Surely he’d throw her out of his life for good if he saw that?

“Miles, let me go,” she managed to choke out.

“No.”

His jaw was set and his eyes were wide, like he was terrified of her—or for her. Either way, she didn’t have time to lie and tell him she was fine. She had to get away so she could sort herself out. Then she’d figure out what she was going to do.

Her frustration grew, as did her fear of falling to pieces in front of him, overruling reason. “You can’t keep me here. I’m not your wife. I’m not Cassie.” The moment the words left her mouth, she knew then what it was that had been gnawing at her. It’s why she’d felt uneasy since he’d asked her to quit the show. Miles didn’t always see her when he looked at her. He saw his wife.

His mouth dropped open, and his eyes grew wide with hurt.

Pain battered her heart, but she couldn’t take it back now. She needed to get out. Away. Everything was too much. “Let me past.”

He stepped to the side without saying a word. She ran out of his flat and straight into a taxi waiting for someone else at the side of the street.

Once she was back in the house, she did a quick scan of the rooms and thanked her lucky stars it was empty. The last stop she made was her bedroom where she threw herself down on the bed and cried into the pillows.

The truth of it was, he was kind, caring, and gave her so much without asking for anything in return. How could anyone
not
love him?

But now it all seemed impossible. Miles, winning the show, saving her family. If the public saw her the same way as whoever wrote the article for the newspaper then she was truly up the creek without a paddle. Was that how her followers on EconEkt saw her too? Or worse, did they think she was sleeping with Miles to stay in the competition? Not that it would be an issue after what she said to him. Anna doubted he’d ever speak to her again. But the damage had already been done.

Anna scooped her phone out of her bag. If they did, better to know now and save herself the humiliation of performing in the final. She could call it quits and prowl every shop in Dunfermline looking for a job. Two, if she had to. Either way, she had to know.

The brick of a phone seemed to take forever and a day before the site loaded. Eventually it did and she gaped at all the messages she’d received today. Now, her following was over eight thousand and everyone seemed to be saying the same thing. The message was loud and clear.

‘Forget the press…they are arseholes.’

Her heart stuttered as she scrolled through the messages. Not one was negative, and it not only gave her hope, but made her see exactly how silly she’d been to break down like that. And in front of Miles.

No wonder he’d looked terrified, hadn’t he said that the pressure of the press and fame killed Cassie? The awful words she’d thrown at him in a panic to get out came flooding back.

Frick, frick, double frick.

But still, if he’d seen her for who she was in the first place, those words wouldn’t have left her mouth. Even so, Anna knew deep in her heart that when they made love, it was her that Miles saw. Not Cassie. It was only when she was close to tears that she felt he saw her as someone else.

Anna shook her head. She’d blatantly insisted for weeks that she could handle all of this herself, to Miles and everyone else who would listen. Now she was breaking down in tears because a newspaper called her fat! She wiped a hand across her face, wiping away the last of the salty water.

Sure, she’d been questioning his ability to love her when he was in love with his wife, but when she thought about it, sometimes he looked at her like he was staring deep into her soul. The way he always touched her whenever he could—whether it was a simple rub of her hand or full on caress—the way he was always kissing her both passionately and sometimes, sort of lovingly—and let’s not forget the way he drove her to a pleasure she never dreamed existed.

No more Little Miss Pathetic.

She was a heck of a lot stronger than she had been all those weeks ago at the SECC. If she wasn’t going to win next week because someone was better than her, well fine, she would deal with that and be a graceful loser. But she’d be damned if she was going down easy.

Screw the paper. I’m not going down without a fight.

She typed the words into EconEkt and hit
send
before logging out. Time to get her game face on and pick her winning song—the one that would not only win her the competition, but also the man she loved.

* * * *

Screw the paper. I’m not going down without a fight.

Miles read the words over and over and tried to understand them.

The day before, she’d been inconsolable. She’d left his house and ignored every one of his calls since. And there had been a lot of calls. It seemed the stalker within was trying to break free once more.

Her parting comment hurt him more than he thought he could be again. Miles had been angry at first, what had made her think he saw her as anyone other than herself? Still, not being with her, not knowing whether she was okay was killing him and his anger had quickly dissolved.

“How was that, man?” Kev asked, bringing Miles back to the here and now.

“Great, it was great.” Guilt washed over him. Kev could have been singing
Baa Baa Black Sheep
for all he knew. Anna held every ounce of his attention these days. And she wasn’t even here.

Again, he checked his phone anxiously.

“I was thinking we could remix the chorus, it sounds too flat, what do you think?”

Shame almost made him blush—and he hadn’t blushed since he was a boy. Kev was at his flat to rehearse for the finals. Miles had forgotten that it was his responsibility to give Kev the best chance at winning possible. All he could bloody think about was
her
.

“Sure, let’s see how this works.”

Miles fiddled with the dials on the mixer and layered in another track which could work well with the song, but all the while he could only see Annabelle’s distraught expression. Her face bone white and shining with the tears flowing down her cheeks like water flowing over smooth pebbles of a shallow river.

“Yeah, man, that sounds cool.” Kev bobbed his head and tapped his foot to the tempo.

And Miles still felt like an arse.

He should be supporting Kev. The kid could sing and handle all the shit the press had thrown at him over the last few weeks. He seemed to take it in his stride.

But his mind kept flickering back to Annabelle. What the hell was he going to do? He thought she’d grown strong over the last few weeks. He even began to think she might be strong enough to handle it all.

Yesterday proved him wrong. Cassie had never broken down before, not in front of him anyway. Especially about something so ludicrous. How could she believe what that idiot had written about her? It was crazy.

Finally, his phone buzzed. His attention was dragged away from Kev again as he opened the text.

Sorry about yesterday. I’m fine, please don’t worry. I need some time xoxo

His heart stopped beating when he saw Annabelle’s name. How could he give her time? Time which brought her closer to the night that would destroy her? Because, regardless of how hard he was working with Kev, she was the clear winner. Had been from the day she’d blown him away in Glasgow.

Another image of Annabelle flashed into his mind then. She was lying on the floor. Her face sharp and angular, her lips white and her skin gray and lifeless.

No.

He wouldn’t let that happen. There was a way to make sure that she wouldn’t end up that way and he would do it, regardless of how much it hurt him.

The pain of her leaving him to return to Scotland would be absolutely nothing compared to the agony of watching this life kill her. In the same moment that Miles realized he loved her, he knew he had to do the one thing that would make sure he lost her forever. His heart ripped in two and he was torn between breaking down in tears or smashing up his mini recording studio.

He had to do it, and would hate himself forever. But at least she would still be alive and well. That was worth more than his heartache.

* * * *

Miles lounged in a chair at the back of the auditorium. Annabelle was on stage, rehearsing one of her songs for tonight’s finals. She looked so beautiful, even with her hair pulled back and wearing a simple oversized t-shirt and leggings.

A lump formed in his throat as he realized that this could be the last time he’d hear her sing live. It might even be the last time he saw her. Over the last week he’d barely spent any time with her at all, they’d both been too busy with rehearsals. He’d probably regret that for the rest of his life.

Not to mention all the press statements to reassure the country that he and Annabelle were just friends. He had lawyers on the case trying to halt the rumors before they could get any worse, but he hadn’t told her that. Whether she said she was fine or not didn’t matter, he knew she wasn’t.

This morning, James brought him the paperwork that would allow Annabelle to leave the competition and go home. The fear of losing her was trumped by the fear of knowing if she won, the stress and strain would tear her apart, just like the damn press had almost done.

All week, he had nightmares about that awful night he’d found Cassie in their home, although Cassie’s face had been replaced with Annabelle’s in his dream. He couldn’t let it happen to someone else. Wouldn’t let it happen to Annabelle.

But what he had to do now would make damn sure she never wanted to see him again. It didn’t matter though, he’d survive a broken heart. He wouldn’t survive her death.