* * *
Navigating my way out of LAX and finding the shuttle bus to my hotel is challenging because the place is ginormous, but eventually I find myself on the right bus, nabbing a window seat at the back. Thank fuck, I managed to sleep off my hangover on the plane, so I’m not feeling too bad, despite the change in time zone, climate, and culture. My nose is pressed to the glass as we leave the airport, heading for downtown L.A.
Viv wasn’t joking about the traffic, and it takes forever to reach my hotel. After checking in, I grab a quick shower, order some room service, and map out what I want to say to her.
I’ve got to lay it all on the line. That means coming clean about everything—Reeve, Simon, my initial plan, and how I ended up falling completely and utterly in love with her to the point I know she’s the only woman who will ever own my heart. I know it might mean losing her for good, because she’s going to be pissed, but I can’t beg her to come back to Dublin with me if she isn’t privy to all the facts.
It’s a huge risk, because she’ll want to run straight to Reeve with the truth, but she deserves to know he’s been lying to her too. She deserves to know what kind of man she’s been in love with all these years. I hope the fact I’ve come all this way will help. That she’ll see how important she is to me and how sincere I am about never keeping secrets from her again. I’m even willing to set aside my vengeance for her. If she agrees to be with me, I will drop all plans for revenge. Viv means more to me than getting even with my twin and my father. If she loves me as much as I love her and she agrees to spend her life with me, that is all I will ever need.
I know it’s not black-and-white.
There’s a lot of gray matter to trudge through, but she is all I want.
Nothing else matters except having her by my side, now and always.
Nerves fire at me and my palms are sweaty as I press dial on her number. Her voice mail automatically kicks in, confirming her phone is off. Maybe she’s sleeping or it’s out of charge.
Or she’s already with him.
I rage at the devil on my shoulder, not needing his pessimistic comments right now. Viv wouldn’t do that. Even though I was a total prick to her before she left, I know she loves me. She wouldn’t run straight back into his arms because what we shared meant something to both of us.
I try a couple more times, but it’s the same. Always sent to voice mail. Frustrated, I toss my phone on the bed, pacing the room as I contemplate leaving her a message. I decide against it. I’d rather speak to her in person so she can’t duck out of meeting me.
I turn on the TV for something to do, instantly wishing I hadn’t. All the color leaches from my face as I turn up the volume. Pain slices across my chest as the image of Reeve with Viv fills the screen. They are on an apartment balcony, and he’s holding her in an intimate embrace, his chest to her back. The photo only shows from the waist up, but it’s obvious they are naked. Reeve’s arm is wrapped around Viv’s bare breasts, and he’s nuzzling into her neck, kissing her.
She’s clinging to his arms, smiling like she hasn’t a care in the world. Like she wasn’t in my arms mere hours ago. Like she didn’t just leave me behind in Ireland. She shows none of the emotion I saw in her eyes yesterday when she was telling me she loved me. I don’t even look like a distant memory. I’m like a speck of dust that’s there one minute and gone the next.
Pain eviscerates me on all sides, and I drop to my knees clutching my aching heart as tears sting the backs of my eyes.
The image changes to a live feed, and a reporter thrusts a mic into Reeve’s face as he emerges from a high-rise building. “Reeve! Is it true you are back together with Vivien Mills?” a pretty blonde reporter asks, claiming his attention. “Is the photo from earlier today proof you are in love with your childhood sweetheart again?”
“I’ve always been in love with Viv,” Reeve says, stopping to talk to her. He pins her with a wide disarming smile, and he’s practically glowing. A swarm of reporters crowds around him, and camera flashes go off in his face. “I never stopped loving her, and I never will. She’s the only woman for me.” He stares pointedly at the camera, and I want to wipe the superior look off his smug face. “Nothing or no one will ever come between us again.” He might as well be saying it directly to my face because I know this message is directed at me. “She’s back in my arms, exactly where she belongs. Where she’s going to stay.”
I throw the remote at the screen, cracking the glass, as rage infiltrates my veins, replacing the blood flow. Anger unlike anything I’ve ever felt before races through me, and I tear through the room, ripping pictures off the walls, tossing the furniture around, destroying the curtains and bedding, and throwing anything that isn’t pinned down at the walls and the windows. I can’t see anything over the red layer tainting my vision and the angry tsunami sweeping through my insides, obliterating everything in its path.
I’m still in a monstrous rage when security enters my room and I’m hauled outside the hotel in handcuffs. I lose my shit in the back of the police car as they take me to the headquarters of the Los Angeles Police Department and throw me into a cell. Fury continues to pummel my insides even as the mad adrenaline rush leaves, and my exhausted body slumps against the bench. Vengeance returns, a million times stronger than before, and I know what needs to be done.
I am such a fool, and Viv has played me for a right idiot.
She never had any intention of staying with me. She waltzed straight back into his arms—into his bed—only hours after being with me. How could she do that? Did I mean so little to her that she could fuck me and then fuck him without any remorse or guilt? Because I saw zero regrets on her face in that picture. She was basking in his possessive adoration, like I no longer existed.
The walls around my heart harden along with my resolve.
Simon and Reeve are no longer the isolated entries on my shit list. I’ve now added Hollywood to the mix.
She will pay. They will all pay for treating me like I don’t matter.
The seriousness of my situation hits home when I let my mind wander, and I realize how badly I’ve fucked up. It’s quite likely I will be kicked out of the US and forbidden from ever returning. We can kiss our music dreams goodbye if that happens. I wouldn’t care except it will devastate the guys. They are banking on things working out with this A&R guy, and I won’t be the reason things fall apart. I need someone with clout in this town to make this go away, and I know just who to call. My mind churns ideas as I align both goals. It will take longer to achieve if I do this, but it’s the only way.
Standing, I grip the cell bars, shaking them to get the attention of the woman behind the counter outside. “I want my phone call.” I’ve watched enough US police dramas to know my rights.
Ten minutes later, I’m sitting in a small interview room while the surly cop rummages through my duffel bag. “This?” he asks, holding the wrinkled brown envelope in his hand.
“Yeah. See that number written on the top? That’s the number I need.” Thank fuck, I thought to stuff the old NDA into my bag before I left home. I’ve held on to it all these years because I knew there might come a day when I’d have to sign it. Some sixth sense told me to bring it with me, and now I know why. It’s the leverage I need to get myself out of this mess and begin to put a new plan of revenge in place.
The cop picks up the handset and gives it to me. I punch in the private number, holding the phone to my ear as I wait for him to answer.
“Simon Lancaster,” he drawls, arrogance dripping from his tone.
“I’ll sign it on two conditions,” I say, knowing he already knows who I am. “I want five million dollars, and I need your help to extract me from a situation.”