Sadie steps into the large room with the large windows overlooking the back garden and pool. “It’s a lot sunnier than I thought it would be.”
“My mom loves the outdoors.”
“It’s beautiful.” She lays a hand on the cream-colored bedspread. “The green walls remind me of the time I played Sol Witt in Chattingham Place. The abbey that we filmed at had these gorgeous painted moundings.”
“That’s the one where you were in love with the horse trainer?” I try not to scowl. There was an intense sex scene in that movie, and while you didn’t see much except hands and feet and some bodies through a curtain, you knew someone was getting off.
“Yeah.” She laughs a little self-consciously. “You probably think that because I had that one scene in it that I would be okay with the reading with Randle, but truth be told, I had a body double. My mom wouldn’t allow any scenes like that, which everyone in the industry knows. She wanted to protect my reputation.”
“Ah.” My grip around the tablet relaxes. “You were a teen.”
“Eighteen, to be precise. I don’t know why movies with teen protagonists have so many sex scenes, but I guess they think the story needs it. My mom did some things okay, I guess.”
Sadie looks glum as she thinks about all the times she’s been betrayed by the people who should be looking out for her, and it only makes me want to protect her even more.
Chapter Five
Sadie
“Your mom really doesn't mind me taking her bedroom?” I ask as I fall back onto the soft pillowy bed, trying to steer the conversation away from my mother. I guess I should have waited for him to answer, but it looked so inviting. My own bed at home doesn’t even have that feel to it yet.
“She won’t care. She hasn't stayed over in a while anyway.” He shrugs as he stares down at me on the bed. I sit up on my elbows.
I think part of why the bed is so inviting is because I know it’s safe here. I don’t have to worry about anything going bump in the night or some hidden camera taking pictures of me. I don’t know what it is about Locke, but I trust him. And I know without a doubt that he will do whatever it takes to keep me safe. I mean, this place in itself is like Fort Knox. Some people might think it’s overboard, but I think it’s perfect.
“Are you sure? I can stay in a spare room.” This place is big. I’m sure he has a few other spare rooms.
Locke takes another step closer to the bed. “It’s the safest room in the house and the closest to mine.” He starts to tell me why, but I get lost in watching his mouth move. His lips are thick and full, but they look soft too. Am I really thinking about his mouth right now? I’ve never in my life thought about a man's mouth before. But I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like if he pressed his mouth against mine.
“You okay?” he asks, and his mouth forms into a firm straight line, breaking me from my thoughts. Why am I so focused on his mouth when there are so many other things about him to stare at? “Sadie!” He clips my name. What is wrong with me? He’s talking, and I’m lost in some fantasy world. I need to pay attention. But anytime he’s this close, it's hard. He makes me nervous. Not in the way the cameras or paparazzi do. But in the butterflies in my stomach kind of way.
“Yes!” I jerk to sit up on the side of the bed.
“Are you feeling okay?” He presses his hand to my forehead. “Your cheeks are flushed.” I lean more into his touch. Maybe I am coming down with something. It’s more likely that it’s him that’s causing my body to have this strange reaction.
“She’s probably hungry. Have you even fed the girl?” a woman says, coming out of nowhere.
“I was about to order something,” Locke says, defending himself. The woman with the same dark eyes and hair as Locke shakes her head at him. The few gray streaks in her hair have me guessing she’s the mom he’s been talking about.
I’m surprised to see how small she is. Her frame is tiny like mine but with curves I wish I had. Ones I’d be willing to have if it meant getting to eat what I wanted. Too bad I’m not allowed to. Staying as slim as possible was something that had been drilled into me since I was a little kid.
“I’m not that hungry.”
“You’re hungry. You only threw in the word that so it wasn’t a lie,” Locke’s mom says, putting her hands on her hips in a challenge. She’s right. I duck my head, feeling bad that it was a bit of a lie. I’m starving, but it’s been so ingrained in me not to eat that I always word it that way.