Where to start? “I try too hard. Or maybe I don’t try hard enough. Men like the idea of me. The stardom and the money. But when I let someone in and he gets to know me, something happens. He becomes cruel. Hateful.” Abusive. “But by then, I’m already attached.”
He grips my knee, his hand a warm heavy support. “That’s on them, Laynee.”
I shake my head and twist my fingers together on my lap. I have no right to take advantage of his patience, but the sharp pang in my chest is crippling. It takes several minutes to gather my thoughts and turn to face him.
“I have a void in my life. It’s always been there. The thing about being the only child of famous parents is that this void went unnoticed in my otherwise envious upbringing and lifestyle. I’ve always had money and stability and opportunities. My parents loved me, provided for me, and I lacked for nothing. Except their time.”
He squeezes my knee, urging me to continue.
I pull in a deep breath. “I didn’t have their attention. I was never as important as their public image and career aspirations. In fact, I wasn’t really on their radar. They spent my entire childhood on movie sets in different parts of the world while I grew up in Savannah with the hired help. My closest relationships consisted of a few dozen nannies and some superficial friendships at school. My peers weren’t from Hollywood, so they were much more interested in my celebrity connections than getting to know me.” I laugh hollowly. “It took years of therapy for me to come to terms with all this.”
He removes his seatbelt, unfastens mine, and drags me onto his lap. The gesture startles me, but I welcome it, settling against his chest with my head on his shoulder.
“I swear I’m not whining about my privileged life.” Kicking off my heels, I rest my bare feet on the seat I vacated. “I feel extremely fortunate for everything I have. But that void in my childhood, my lack of close relationships… It created a deep hole inside me.”
“Loneliness.” He cups my face, tucking my head beneath his chin. “That’s what you feel?”
“Yeah. I tend to force connections with men, connections that don’t exist. I deepen relationships that aren’t meant to be. I find love in little crumbs of affection, and I make excuses when those men hurt me.” I shift to look into his eyes. “When someone wonderful comes along and shows me a glimpse of kindness, I get attached. But at the same time, I don’t trust him, because I know his interest in me isn’t genuine. I know it won’t last.”
“Not all men are useless pieces of shit.”
“That’s exactly what I tell myself every time I meet someone.” I give him a pointed look. It terrifies me, but I really do trust Decker. “Trey McCree wasn’t my first bad decision, but he was by far the worst.”
“How did you meet him?” Decker slides a hand over the scars on my back.
I tilt my head and listen for a moment. A low din of voices drifts from the back seats, too far away to make out words. That means my security team can’t hear our conversation.
“I met him in a L.A. bar, of all places. It was a night of terrible decisions. I just came out of a bad breakup. I had an obsessed stalker on the loose. I sneaked away from my bodyguard, went to a bar, alone, wearing a disguise. I just wanted to be a normal woman for one night and hookup with a normal man. I connected with Trey instantly and went home with him.”
Decker’s entire body stiffens beneath me. “Is that when he tried to kill you?”
“No.” I’d be able to forgive myself if that were the case. “We spent the next six months together, inseparable and happy. He was wholly invested in me. He didn’t give a shit about my name or my money. He was protective, possessive, and ferociously jealous. I have a weakness for dominant men, and I thought his overbearing need to control me meant he loved me.”
Decker remains completely still against me. I’m not even sure he’s breathing.
“He moved in with me.” My voice weakens with remembered pain. “His jealousy grew darker, uglier. I was filming Angel of Fear at the time, and there were numerous love scenes. I didn’t use a body double back then, and Trey… He did not approve. We argued about it endlessly, and the words that came out of his mouth…” My throat tightens. “His words were familiar.”
“What do you mean?” he asks in a low, deep tone.
“I started receiving more and more menacing letters from that stalker. The notes obsessed over my relationships with other men, threatening to kill me if I took my clothes off with my costar or if I spent time alone with Elijah, who was my only bodyguard at the time. Not once did the letters mention my boyfriend, and every word was horribly similar to things Trey said when we fought. I started piecing it together.”