Hunted (Wild Mountain Scots, #2)

Janelle hurried me into the house, beckoning to a team of people assembled in the corridor. “Hair first,” she threw back to the lead hairstylist. “Disaster.”

Guy, the lead stylist who I’d worked with numerous times previously, jumped to attention. He snapped his fingers at his assistants and raised his sunglasses to tip me a wink. The design team fell in behind us.

I’d texted Janelle to say I’d be home this morning, and she’d already convened a crew. From her steely looks at me, her pressure levels were sky-high. In the car, I’d read or listened to her myriad of messages, and she was powered up and steaming. She’d referred to my onstage calling out of Derren as requiring damage control.

I needed her to see the real me and not the asset to manipulate.

“Do we have a decision on the dress?” Guy asked. “We can’t commit to cut or colour without the complete picture.”

Janelle ushered us into the spacious bedroom used for prep. Dress rails and accessories littered the room. A mannequin loomed, a deep-sapphire gown with a plunging neckline adorning it.

“Shut. Up.” Guy dropped his shades altogether to stare down the frock. “Stunning.”

“I need to talk to you,” I said to my manager.

Janelle snorted, ignoring me. “That’s the backup, honey. I’ve been at war with Paolo Escale over his latest creation.” She brought up her ever-present tablet and displayed a dress onscreen. Silver, diaphanous, and beautiful.

An uproar of fuss surrounded her reveal.

I couldn’t give a flying crap about any of it.

Guy hugged me by way of a light tightening of his fingertips on my shoulders. He guided me to a chair. Janelle and the assistants followed, fanning out behind.

Guy undid my braid and tutted at my salt-stained locks. “I’d die for more time to do a beautiful herbal cleansing treatment for damage repair. But I’ll settle for a trim and colour today then the final cut on the eve of the premiere. Agreed? Janelle baby, please. You’re killing me with the dress. I can make blonde work with either, if you insist, but I’ll need to match the tone. Call him. Beg. Offer your firstborn.”

An email pinged on her screen, and Janelle read it then gasped. “We’ve got it. Paolo has caved. They’ll fly the dress out this afternoon.”

The four of them crowed.

This whirlwind was her job. I couldn’t blame her for doing what I paid her for. But I needed to call time on this process.

“Janelle, I really need to talk to you. In private.”

“We are in private. Make this fast. We have interviews to organise, your jewellery is arriving under armed guard, so many last-minute details and only days to fix it all.”

“I’m not doing the premiere.”

She tightened her jaw. I focused in on every tiny clue. Was I looking at my blackmailer? I couldn’t tell.

Then she released a breath. “You trust me, don’t you? Trust me that when the time comes, in the limo, I’ll talk you down from any precipice you choose to teeter over. If you want to pick a moment to be a diva, do it after the hard work’s over. Fall apart, and I will put you back together.”

“I’m not being a diva. I can’t go.”

“You can. Your mom will be home later this morning. You’ll feel better once you’re back in the loop. That’s all this is, a blip caused by distance.” My manager lifted her ever-ringing phone to her ear and raised a pausing finger to me. “What’s that? No, he can’t. How could he even ask that now? Clearly the man wants me dead because I’m about to have a stroke.” She pressed her purple lips together then stormed away.

I watched the door swing in her wake, stuffing down my impulse to run after her and grab her phone.

She hadn’t heard me out, but in one thing, she was right: Mom was key to all this.

That was the conversation I needed to have first. Once we’d spoken, and she’d flipped out then calmed, the ripple effect would start from her.

Mom just had to say the word and the pressure would be off.

Guy still had his gaze on my hair, not on me. “You’re going to look so pretty,” he whispered.

“Guy?” I grabbed his attention. “Thank you for coming here, I really appreciate your help. But there isn’t going to be a premiere. Not for me. I meant what I said to Janelle.”

He curled his fingers to his chest, his expression unsure. “But this is your big night. Everyone will be there. It’s your movie.”

“I know. And I won’t be going.”

His two assistants clutched each other’s hands, their mouths agape. He slid a look at them, and they skittered across the room, leaving us alone. Then he crouched so we were eye to eye and pushed his blond bangs back.

“Are you okay?”

“No. I’m not. I can’t explain how, but I’m trying to make things better. Once my mother gets back and we talk, it’ll all be over.”

I had no clue how to broach that conversation, but if I went into it with honesty, I couldn’t go wrong.

“I don’t want to overstep, but you’re the most professional star I’ve ever worked with. Zero drama mama. If something rattled your cage…” Guy gave a sympathetic head tilt. “It’s the real deal, right?”

“It is. I’m sorry that you won’t get the credit for my styling on the night.”

“Sweetie, no! Who gives a shit about that? Honour those feelings. I’ll pack up and go.”

As he spoke, he winced, taking a final, longing look at my hair. The blonde was growing out and my dark roots peeking through.

Years ago, teenaged-me had been his first big client. We’d hit it off immediately and giggled our way through the session. Guy was kind, discrete, and hilarious.

There was time to kill until Mom returned. If Cameron was occupied debriefing the house security then maybe I could claim back a small sense of myself.

With Guy’s help.

“Since you’re here, can you dye my hair anyway? I want to go back to my natural colour? I just want to be me again.”

The stylist blinked. “Elegant brunette, ready for battle. It would be my pleasure.”

I let him do his preparation while I mulled over my words and bided my time.

Guy had started preparations with a rinse to get rid of the salt when my manager swept back into the room.

“Did you see Cameron downstairs?” I asked.

“Who?”

“My…friend. The man I turned up with.”

“Oh, him. In with the rest of security. I caught a few words of what you’ve been up to in the last few days, but what were you thinking, putting yourself at risk?”

As if I’d invited the trouble.

Janelle sniffed. “Your mom is not impressed.”

“She’s home?” I shuffled to my feet.

Guy hissed. “Sit your butt back down, missy.”

My manager continued. “She is, but with a team of lawyers firing questions at her. She’ll find you when she’s got time. I’ll get someone to grab you lunch.” She gestured to one of the assistants, a woman about my age, who leapt to attention. But then Janelle hesitated and cast her gaze over me. “Or maybe not. The premiere dress will be skin tight, and you’ll need to start a water purge, let alone kill off the calories if you want the good headlines.”

She breezed out of the room again, and I glared after her. I’d dropped my exercise plan and eating restrictions since returning to the States, and the idea of starting it up again was a prison door closing.

In the same way this house, my home, felt like a prison of a life I didn’t want anymore.

I pressed Guy’s fingers. “Battle one commencing.”

He shuddered but released me. “Farewell, go to war.”

I strode out to take on my mother.

In the bright hallway, I quick-stepped down the stairs, seeking Mom. At the open front door, a security guard signed for a package. I squinted, not recognising him. We never had security in the house, but then Janelle had mentioned something about the jewellery coming in with a guard. I brushed off my increasing sense of worry and peeled down the corridor, passing the lounge and kitchen until I reached Mom’s office.

Cameron was nowhere to be seen, but if he had work to do with the other security people, I didn’t want to disturb that. I’d find him after when I could update him more fully.

I rapped on the closed office door, then swung it open before an answer came. “Mom? There’s something I need to tell you.”

My mother raised her gaze to me, as did the man on the opposite side of her desk. Brandon Fines, her lawyer. I’d known him since I was a child, but he stared at me now as if we were strangers.

An awkward pause followed.

I’d obviously interrupted something important, and my bravado wobbled. “Is this a bad time?”

Mom recovered. “No. Come in. Your interruption is timely. Brandon, we can continue later.”

The lawyer sneered but exited the room.

Mom rose and came to me, her arms wide. I took a shuddering inhale, relief mingling into my mixed-up emotions. I sank into her hug, needing this more than ever. My mother had never been hands-on, always busy working. But at one point, when I’d been little, affection must have been a regular thing.

I couldn’t remember the last time she’d offered it. Or that could’ve been me not seeking it.

“I heard about your performance.” She held me at arm’s length and regarded me. “That was a none-too-subtle message.”

“I didn’t know what else to do.” My voice trembled. “Derren hurt me.”

Mom’s jaw tightened. “Now it all makes sense, your behaviour especially. That little shit. How dare he?”

Just like I’d needed the hug, I’d desperately needed her to believe me.

She did. Just as Rory said she would.

God, how good that felt.

All the other routes I’d discounted returned with a vengeance. I could report Derren to the police. I could call him out directly, and not just by the words of a friend. I could go public.

I let out a shuddering exhale. “I’ve been so worried about it.”

“As you should. The lawyers are up in arms.”

“I bet. But they don’t need to worry. I’m speaking the truth.”

“I believe you,” she said. “You’re my only child, and your wellbeing is right up there on my list of priorities.” She sucked in a breath in the way of someone estimating a large fee. “But your actions have consequences. In the past couple of days, we’ve been fighting the threat of defamation cases, handling huge media interest, let alone the industry fallout. You must have expected this. You threw a bomb over my wall and didn’t even call me to yell duck.”

I winced. “Sorry.”

What else could I add? My decision-making was so deeply tied to Mom, her business, and our shared investments, but all that had been eclipsed by my emotional health. The only way to survive had been to honour one and block out the rest.

“I’ll talk to the press,” I added.

“You won’t. It’s being handled. Brandon and I have done the thinking. He’s so mad, I thought he was going to choke, but I took the heat for you. For my daughter.”

Mom returned to her office chair. In the all-white room, the sun gleamed off every surface. Typically she’d have the shades lowered and be huddled over a laptop. But the brilliant brightness illuminated me and burned away layers I’d carried. The burden of shame, the weight of being the person causing problems.

Here, I was nothing but a child needing care. And Mom was in my corner.

“I’m sorry about the movie,” I said, jumping the gun.

“What about it?” Mom raised two quizzical eyebrows.

“It’s a crime scene. Derren—”

“Oh, don’t worry. We won’t let it touch the movie. Can you imagine? Derren will apologise for what he did. When he gets here, I will have that little bastard by his balls.”

“When he gets here? Why is he coming here?” I spluttered. “He’s the last person I want to see.”

“The best way to handle personal differences is quickly and face-on.”

“These aren’t personal differences.”

“It might feel like that now, but these big feelings won’t last. You have the premiere to attend together, so this needs fixing.”

“About the premiere—”

“Let me be understood. We’ll lose the business, the house, and everything I’ve worked for if that trilogy doesn’t make bank. Your two managers have been talking solutions. Janelle and Charlotte have exciting ideas on spin. Just imagine the press on the night. They’re already chasing you down now, so to walk out in front of that throng and make a statement, either directly, or by your actions, will create a frenzy. You were born for this. Take control and make it your own.”

Her eyes gleamed, and I stared. Just like Janelle, she thought I was having a hissy fit. That this was a blip, and not an ending.

“Mom, Derren sexually assaulted me. I’m going to report him to the police.”

I hadn’t committed to the last action until this second, but I wanted to shock her into understanding.

Her gaze took on the same determination Janelle’s had. “You won’t. That isn’t what we do.”

“What do you mean ‘we’?”

“Celebrities. Public figures. Powerful women. If you sell a version of yourself to the public, you can’t then expect the public to serve you in return. We make our own rules, Elise. You don’t need their petty intervention.”

My belief that she had my back dissolved. She wasn’t making sense.

And yet… Mom had said things like this in the past. I’d sometimes wondered if she suffered with delusions of grandeur. Yes, our life had marked differences to other people’s, I’d seen it so clearly growing up and been acutely aware of my privilege. But I’d never thought myself better than anyone else.

The scene twisted, the bright light no longer cleansing but exposing.

That sinister creep of fear I’d felt when thinking about my super fan returned with a vengeance. I’d joked about it being my mother. She loved me beyond anyone. No matter how I’d been conceived, and how much she hated my dad, she’d always wanted me. That had never been in question. Even as we’d grown apart, I’d always supported her.

She’d supported me, too. Hadn’t she?

Right now, I wasn’t so sure.

A question tripped off my tongue. “Did a key to a storage unit containing Dad’s possessions come your way? Or did you get any calls from Christina?”

“Who? Why are you talking about your father to me? We don’t have time for this. The moment Derren gets here, we’ll sit down, fix the problem, and make a plan.”

Panic prickled over my skin. I dug my fingernails into my clammy palms. “When will he be here?”

“Soon. You’d better get your hair finished.” She gestured at my damp clipped-back locks then activated her laptop. Onscreen, a view of one of our security cameras displayed, the security guard standing sentinel on the front porch. It flicked to more in the back yard.

Too many thoughts clamoured for my attention. Seeing Derren would make me sick to my stomach, but at the same point, I wasn’t afraid of him. More, I feared feelings and memories. Of never healing. Going toe to toe and telling him exactly what he done, like I had with Kessler, would give me a degree of closure.

I couldn’t do what Mom wanted, but it might still help me.

Her lack of understanding could become an opportunity.

A new idea bloomed. What if that conversation then helped me in my report to the police?

Which meant tricking Derren into admitting his act.

Around me, my world was falling apart. I had the support of no one, barring Cameron, and even he would go soon, back to his life far away from here.

In the same breath, I knew if I had Cameron beside me when my ex arrived, I couldn’t do less than ream Derren out completely. He believed in me. Completely. He wouldn’t stand by and let anything play out other than the maximum Derren deserved.

Than I deserved.

Plus he’d almost certainly threaten Derren. Maybe even hit him. As awesome as that would be, Cameron could get in trouble.

I dragged my focus back to my mother. My suspicions had been raised, but I still couldn’t believe she’d been anything other than upfront with me. Never before had she resorted to pure manipulation. She was too busy, far too preoccupied with her business to even know my whereabouts half the time.

No, Mom wasn’t my super fan.

But that meant someone else still was.

“Someone’s been threatening me,” I said carefully.

Mom’s brown-eyed gaze didn’t falter. “Part of the life. We have a world of security here.” Then she tilted her head. “Which reminds me. I spoke with the chief of security when I got here. The boy who drove you home has brought more trouble to my door.”

My stomach tightened. “What are you talking about?”

“There’s a warrant out for his arrest.”

“For what reason?”

Mom’s eyes glinted now. “Assaulting a photographer and damage to property.”

The panic returned in a punch.

Cameron had disarmed the photographer, but there was no violence involved. In a beat, I knew that didn’t matter.

“He didn’t assault anyone.”

Returning to her desk, Mom took her seat and steepled her fingers. “Welcome the reality of needing the press in your pocket. Say goodbye to your friend. If he gets on a plane, the cops won’t catch up with him. If he doesn’t, you’re the reason he’s been dragged into this world, and you’re responsible for the consequences. Again.”

A shaky picture formed. The sense of being trapped wasn’t just a feeling. The house was full of security. The main cause of my damage, Derren, was being brought to me. And my one ally, Cameron, was being removed.

I was being corralled.

The guards were here for me.

My problems had only multiplied, and I needed to fix them myself. And there was absolutely no way I was letting a threat from my family damage Cameron’s future, his wellbeing. Mom had destroyed a man’s life on a whim, the exec who’d upset me, what was to stop her doing it again? Particularly if that had been about my career, not me.

I couldn’t admit to Mom that I cared about Cameron. Even if I had no clue where she truly stood.

I wouldn’t allow him to be trapped here.

“Do I make myself clear?” Mom added.

“Entirely.” I twisted and fled the room.