Tristan on a Harley (Louisiana Knights Book 3) (13 page)

It had been no slip of the tongue, it seemed, when he called her
his
Zenobia.

“Enough of this,” he said in brisk dismissal, as if destroying someone’s hopes was less than nothing. “You read the script, correct? What did you think of the dream sequence? Ready to give it a run-through?”

“Now?” She glanced around at the people occupying the surrounding tables.

“Not here, of course. Some place where we will have the necessary privacy. Perhaps my motor home?”

Derek’s smile was too expectant, too certain she must feel the same anticipation that he did.

He was deluded. “Certainly not.”

“Not that I’d object,” he said, his expression verging on the lascivious. “Tables can have their uses during—intimate—rehearsals, as can desks and sofas.”

She could feel a flush creeping up her chest and neck to her cheekbones, one brought on by anger and remembrance. The vivid images in her head that involved a table had nothing to do with the director and everything to do with a certain biker with strong thigh muscles.

“I do object,” she answered in clipped tones. “That scene isn’t—well, I’m not comfortable with it.”

“But it’s an act.”

“Even so.”

“The set will be closed if that’s the way you want it. But the pretense is nothing that hasn’t been done a thousand times over in the past few decades. It’s supposed to be hot. As I told you before—”

“I remember. It’s a football player’s wet dream, and all that. Regardless, I’d still like to see it toned down.”

His tolerant air turned into petulance. “Playing prude again, I see.”

The way she had played that scene with Trey came unbidden to her mind. She’d been far from a prude then. Not that she had any intention of duplicating the action with Derek.

“I’m not at all prudish in private. In public is something else again. Is there nothing that can be done with the scene?”

His bottom lip protruded another quarter of an inch and he crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t think so. It was written to create a particular effect. Changing it could change the whole dynamic of the movie.”

“Oh, come on. It can’t be that important.”

He looked stunned, as if it’d been so long since someone called him on one of his pronouncements that he couldn’t believe it was happening. “I assure you it is. I like you as Zenobia, but you aren’t irreplaceable, darling Zeni. Either you play the part the way it’s written, including every action, or you don’t play it at all.”

He thought he had her. The triumph he expected from his ultimatum colored his voice.

He was wrong.

“Not a problem.” She rose to her feet. “I’m sure you can find another Zenobia.” She turned away, picking up her shoulder bag that hung from the back of her chair.

Derek lunged from his seat, catching her wrist in a hard grip as his face turned an ugly red. “Hold on. We aren’t finished here.”

“I believe we are.” She rotated her wrist, twisting her arm free.

“Sit down, Zeni darling. That is, unless you would like me to have a talk with Benedict about the man who was your father.”

She couldn’t move for long seconds, could scarcely breathe. The threat was so far from anything she’d thought he might say that she couldn’t think.

“Sit back down. Now.”

Returning to her chair was one of the hardest things Zeni had ever done. Yet to refuse was impossible. Hard, biting words echoed in her mind, words that would tear Derek’s ego and character to shreds, but she swallowed them down.

“What do you know of my father?” She demanded in a hoarse whisper.

“Did it never occur to you that I might have you investigated? I had big plans for you, but nasty little surprises that might ruin my investment of time and money were no part of them.”

She looked at him with loathing. “I don’t know what you think you’ve discovered, but my own mother couldn’t name my father.”

He gave a snide laugh. “Couldn’t? Or wouldn’t?”

Zeni felt cold and sick inside. She’d known the truth—or as much of it as she had guessed, might have to come out—but thought she could put it off. She should’ve known better. “So you’re saying I’m no longer a suitable investment? Too bad.”

“I’m not saying that at all. The only thing that’s changed is the spin that may be required for your life story.” He shrugged with elaborate unconcern. “Plus how grateful you will need to be, and when I’ll expect you to express it.”

“What makes you think Trey doesn’t know everything already?”

He gave a slow shake of his head. “If you’d told him, you wouldn’t be sitting here now. No, my dearest Zeni. You haven’t said a word. You can’t, because you’re afraid of what his reaction will be.”

The creep was right, though it was also true there had been no pressing reason to explain before Derek and his movie company appeared in Chamelot. Everything had been fine until then.

She ached with the mass of pain and anger, despair and hatred inside her. She’d been content, or nearly so, with the snippy yet companionable interplay between her and Trey. In an odd way, she’d been his helpmate. They’d worked together to build something, a future of sorts rather than a fortune. The connection between them had been nebulous, but always there, hovering in the background. It seemed she’d found her place in life, a place where she belonged.

Gone, soon to be all gone.

“Now that we have that settled, shall we go rehearse this scene?” Derek surveyed her with calm satisfaction, as if he hadn’t just destroyed her world. “It won’t be difficult for you—I’ll make sure of that. I find I get a better performance from the women I work with if they are happily involved with me.”

Bettina had been right. Derek seemed to think he was a modern Svengali with every right to expect her submission to his will. It wasn’t happening. She couldn’t bear the thought, not after being close to Trey, making love in a meeting of hearts and minds—or at least her heart, her mind—instead of getting off in a meaningless joining of bodies.

“Not today,” she said, meshing her fingers together before resting them on the table in front of her. “I would really like to hear more about these plans you have for me.”

Let him think he’d won. If he figured she was resigned to being seduced by him and his promise of fame, what did it matter? It would give her time to decide what she was going to do about his threat.

One thing was for certain; she was not going to surrender without a fight, and she wasn’t going to be his Zenobia.

There had to be a way out of this mess. All she had to do was find it.

Trey was a man on a mission. Striding into the exhibit building where the cantina for the movie people was located, he paused to allow his eyes to adjust to the dimness after the bright light outside. Zeni was supposed to be here somewhere, at least according to Gloria. He needed to find her. And if that interfered with Peabody’s rehearsal plans for the morning, too bad.

He had just come from a confrontation with Granny Chauvin in the middle of Main Street. That elderly lady might stand no taller than the logo on his T-shirt, but she was formidable with her sharp eyes in their owl-like circles of wrinkles, her white hair flying around her head like feathers in the wind and her definite ideas about right and wrong.

She wasn’t someone he wanted to tangle with when she was annoyed.

“Tristan Thomas Benedict, what are you about with Zeni?” That demand was made the instant she spotted him. “I stopped in at the coffee shop yesterday, and there was that sweet girl with her ring finger as bare as a newborn baby’s bottom. Explain yourself.”

His cousin Beau had told him there would be days like this.

Granny had a way of interfering in everyone’s love lives. She seemed to be good at it; if he remembered correctly, she'd had a hand in setting Beau and Carla on the right road.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “It’s just that—”

“I don’t want to hear any excuses. You need to get that girl a ring before folks begin to think you’ve changed your mind. Or that she has, which is a lot more like it!”

Granny had a point, Trey was forced to admit. He should have thought about a ring. Thus his mission to find Zeni and make sure everything was the way it should be.

He could have chosen a ring himself and made a big production out of presenting it. However, that whole romance thing with the need to create unique memories didn’t apply to their situation. He would feel ridiculous pretending that it did, and thought Zeni probably would as well.

No, he wanted Zeni to have something special, something that she’d really love and maybe keep for a long time. She seemed to have little jewelry other than costume pieces; he liked the thought of giving her something of value. That meant getting her input so the choice would be perfect.

There she was, at a table with Peabody. At least they were still in a public place, and it looked as if he’d caught her before the rehearsal could get started.

Zeni looked up and saw him weaving his way toward her through the tables. Relief and something more sprang into her face. An instant later, it was replaced by alarm.

Did he look that threatening? Trey didn’t know, but he wasn’t leaving without her.

“Zeni, honey,” he said as he neared the table. “Something has come up. We need to go.” The endearment was a small counterbalance to all the darlings and sweethearts used by Peabody, but gave him visceral satisfaction anyway.

“What is it? Is everything okay? Gloria hasn’t burned down the Watering Hole?”

“Nothing like that. Just something we need to get done.”

“Unless it’s a matter of life or death,” Peabody said with his trademark patronizing attitude, “Zeni is needed here.”

Trey gave him a straight look. “Some things are more important than your movie. You might try remembering that next time you’re tempted to interfere in people’s lives.”

The actor/director looked taken aback, but only for a second. “I must insist that Zeni honor her commitment to the project.”

“And to you?”

“If you want to put it that way. We were about to have a private session to go over the part she’ll be playing. She can’t skip out of it on a whim.”

Trey exchanged stare for stare with Peabody. “I think she can. She’s a free spirit and will stay that way.” He turned his gaze to Zeni and held out his hand. “Ready?”

“I believe so,” she said, and put her hand in his.

It was one of the greatest moments of his life when she tightened her grip and rose to stand beside him.

Peabody reached out and grabbed her other arm. “I don’t think she really wants to go with you, or won’t if she thinks about it.”

Zeni was torn; that was plain to see. She was also gutsy. “Sorry, but you need to understand my position. Trey is the man I’m going to marry, after all.”

Was there a reason he felt suddenly as if he was being used as a shield? It didn’t matter. That was his purpose in all this, wasn’t it?

“There you go,” he said, holding Peabody’s frustrated gaze.

“I demand that she stay here.”

Trey leaned toward him and gripped his hand in a hard fist, flinging it away from Zeni’s wrist. Keeping his voice low, he said, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. People might start to wonder what you’re willing to do to make sure Zeni sees things your way, like maybe causing a convenient accident to eliminate the competition.”

Peabody drew back. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do. It took place at the arena a few steps from where your motorhome is parked.”

“If you’re talking about that motorcycle crash, I can only suppose the man riding it didn’t know what he was doing.”

Trey could feel his blood pressure rising along with his temper. “That’s your answer? Blame the man who was hurt?”

“I certainly had nothing to do with it!”

“But your people graded the arena the day before, and sent word it was ready for the trial run.”

“That may be, but I refuse to allow you to make me responsible.”

“I’ll do better than that,” Trey said leaning closer still. “I’ll tell you to your face that the other bikers and I will be on our guard from now on. Nothing remotely like that so-called accident had better happen again. Here in Louisiana, plastic surgery is expensive for a face that’s been rearranged.”

Peabody was still sputtering his indignation when Trey walked away with Zeni keeping step beside him. They passed through the door and out into the mellow fall sunshine before he spoke again.

“I probably shouldn’t have said that.”

“You think?” Worry and doubt layered her voice.

“Or maybe I should. That’s the point of the charade after all, isn’t it? To rescue you from Peabody.”

“I don’t really know. It was your bright idea.”

It was true she hadn’t said she wanted rescuing, but he was doing it anyway. “And a good one it was, too. Seeing him back there, you’d think he was a hound dog deprived of a juicy bone.”

The look she gave him was scathing. “I’m not anyone’s bone.”

“No, and I’d rather it stays that way.”

They walked on a few steps before she gave him a sidelong glance. “Would you really rearrange his face?”

“What do you think?”

“Too bad he didn’t push it then,” she said under her breath.

At least Trey thought that’s what she said, though it didn’t make good sense when she was still involved with the twice-damned movie. “What was that?”

She met his eyes, her own liquid with what might be distress. Her lips parted as if she was about to speak, then she closed them again and looked away. “Nothing. I just—I’m glad you showed up when you did.”

So was he. That was, if she was glad. Still, he was fairly sure that wasn’t what she’d been about to say.

He’d thought he was going to hear something important, and his heart began to throb like a ticking time bomb. That it came to nothing didn’t slow it down by much.

He’d always known Zeni had her secrets. It was a disappointment that he wasn’t about to discover one of them, but he’d get over it. He always did.

They reached the truck and he held the door for her. It was only after they left the fairgrounds parking lot and headed out of town that she spoke again.

“Where are we going?”

“To buy a ring,” he answered, and made a story for her of the meeting with Granny Chauvin.

“I appreciate the thought, but I don’t need a ring.”

“It’s not just for you. It’s for Granny and everybody else, so they’ll believe it’s serious.”

“Including Derek, I suppose.”

He shot her a stern look. “Especially for Peabody.”

“And for you?”

“Me? No. What are you talking about?”

“For that traditional part of you that feels odd if you don’t follow the rules, the part that needs to prove you’re a man of your word to people like Granny Chauvin and the rest of Chamelot.”

He might have been insulted if he hadn’t understood her habit of misdirection so well, hadn’t realized she was being snarky so he wouldn’t think too much about whatever she’d decided not to tell him.

Never mind that there was a certain truth in her accusation.

“You can call it whatever you want,” he said evenly. “But I’m still buying you a ring.”

Pressing his lead foot down on the accelerator, he headed out of town.