Needing Arella (Rockers' Legacy Book 6), Page 3

  Figuring it was work-related since the director’s assistant had put it in my dressing room, I decided to open it when I got home. Yawning, I walked out to my car and quickly put the top up since the temperature had dropped now that the sun was down.

  Traffic sucked, so it was almost an hour later before I walked into my apartment. I dropped my bag and the box before engaging the locks and making my way into the kitchen. I had a housekeeper who came in during the week to tidy up and cook me some dinner so my mom didn’t worry I wasn’t eating right.

  Pulling the food container out of the fridge, I saw Carol had made grilled salmon with asparagus and wild rice. I popped it into the microwave and decided to call Palmer back.

  “Have you been on any of the socials today?” my best friend demanded in greeting as soon as she answered.

  I grabbed a bottle of water and uncapped it, rolling my eyes. You would think she was the actress with how dramatic she could be at times. “Nope. I’ve been too busy to worry about social media land and everyone’s shit today.”

  And I knew she would give me all the highlights anyway, so most of the time, I just waited for her to give me a rundown on all our mutual friends.

  By the time the microwave dinged, she was still talking a mile a minute and I was a little bored with her recounting of the social media soap opera. I put her on speaker and just let her talk while I ate standing up by the sink. I didn’t even hear half of what she said. I was half asleep and only wanted to fall face first into bed.

  “I don’t know what he sees in that bitch anyway. She’s not even close to being in your realm of hotness. And have you heard her laugh? Ugh. So annoying.”

  The disgust in her voice made me smile, even though I didn’t know who she was talking about.

  “Tell us how you really feel, Palms,” I laughed before taking the last bite of my dinner, and then I rinsed the plate. Licking my lips, I put it in the empty dishwasher and then grabbed one of the tiny chocolate caramel truffle balls that I indulged in for dessert most nights. I needed something sweet after dinner, but I couldn’t risk gaining weight from eating the way I really wanted to. Those truffles saved my career and my thighs.

  She gave a disgusted grunt. “She’s so trashy, Arella. Admit it, you think so too.”

  “Of course she is,” I agreed, still unsure who she was talking about.

  “Anyway, I heard she lost her mind when he was seen out with the Danish princess or whatever she is.” She gave a snort. “Now that’s a hot piece of ass I’d like a taste of.”

  My grin was so big, it made my face hurt. I’d known Palmer was a lesbian from the time we were in middle school. She might even have had a crush on me at one point, but once she realized my heart was with Jordan, she’d moved on. She’d never made her sexual orientation a secret to me, but she hadn’t come out to anyone else, especially not her judgmental mother. I wasn’t a fan of Veronica Abbot, but her husband, Trent, was pretty cool. I knew he wouldn’t disown his daughter if she came out to him. Veronica, on the other hand, would lose her mind.

  “The redhead or the blonde?” I asked, trying to picture which Danish princess she was talking about.

  “The redhead, duh,” she scoffed. “Jordan is all about redheads, and we both know why. You’ve said so many times that he’s secretly in love with Mia. I mean, Letizia even has that pretty dark-red hair. It’s about the only thing pretty about her, if you ask me.”

  Suddenly, my dinner and the truffle were no longer sitting happily in my stomach. Of course she was talking about Jordan and Letizia. My tired brain hadn’t put it together, but now that I knew who she was talking about, I wanted to hit rewind and not even have called Palmer back.

  I didn’t want to think about Jordan Moreitti or any of the redheads he’d been blowing up social media and the trash mags with over the past few years. He was my friend, and we still hung out on occasion, but ever since my eighteenth birthday, our once-close relationship had disappeared.

  It was annoying, because most of my extended family assumed that just because I went out to dinner or a movie every now and then with Jordan that I was waiting with bated breath for him to come to his senses and be with me. The truth was, I’d moved on the day after my eighteenth birthday. Jordan was nothing more than a friend, and that was the way it was going to stay.

  There was no fucking way I was going to ever give him that kind of power over my heart again.

  Even though I didn’t trust him with my heart, he was still fun to be around. When we hung out, he gave me his full attention. But I knew as soon as I was out of sight, I was very much out of his mind. He’d been fucking Letizia on and off for the past year or so, from what I could tell through social media. We never talked about his sex life, though. I doubt I could have stomached hearing all about the women he warmed his bed with.

  The redheaded chicks who all looked eerily like Mia.

  Holding back a sigh, I listened to Palmer talk shit about Letizia and then spout a few sonnets about the Danish princess’s amazing ass before I told my best friend that I needed a shower and my pillow.

  My heart felt heavy as I ended the call. On my way to my room, I had to pass the front door. Seeing the box I had yet to open, I picked it up and carried it into my bedroom with me. Setting it on the end of my bed, I grabbed the pair of scissors out of my nightstand and sliced through the tape.

  Fighting a yawn, I lifted the flaps and was annoyed when I found a crap-ton of packing peanuts on top. “Really?” I groused. “What is even in here?”

  I grabbed the wastebasket beside my small desk by the window and brought it back before emptying most of the little Styrofoam balls into it. Once it was clear enough that I could see what was inside, I was surprised it wasn’t something small and fragile considering how many packing peanuts had been in the box.

  Instead, it held a bottle of my favorite lotion with an envelope with my name scrawled across the front. Smiling at the thoughtfulness of whoever had sent me the rose-scented lotion, I picked it up. I loved this stuff, and I’d been out for the past few weeks. But with Christmas coming up, I knew at least one of my sisters or my mom would get me some as a present because they all knew how much I loved it.

  My smile dimmed when I felt how light the large bottle was. At least half the contents were gone, but I didn’t see any spilled inside the box. “Someone really sent me a half-full bottle of lotion?” I muttered to myself as I rolled my eyes.

  Tossing the bottle onto the bed beside the box, I picked up the large envelope. It was at least 9 x 12, so I figured it held a document that needed my attention. Wondering if it was from my agent, I lifted the flap. As my fingers slid over the glossy top page, I realized it was actually photos and pulled them out.

  “Holy shit,” I whispered when my gaze landed on the first picture. Bile lifted into my throat as my brain tried to block out what I was seeing.

  It was obviously a guy in the picture, although all that was showing was the lower half of his body. His naked lower body. In one hand, he held the bottle of rose-scented lotion, the other one must have held the camera he took the picture with.

  Unable to stop myself, I flipped through the next few pictures. The second photo showed him squirting a huge glob of lotion down his shaft. In the third, he was stroking himself, massaging the creaminess into his slightly above-average member.

  Fingers shaking, I pulled the last picture free from the stack and saw that he’d obviously made himself come. The mess was on his thighs and lower abdomen. Sickened by it all, I dropped the pictures at my feet.

  As they landed, the last picture fell facedown, and I realized something was written on the back of it.

  I can’t wait to rub this all over your sweet body, little bird.

  “Shit, shit, shit,” I whisper-shouted and ran for the bathroom.

  Just the thought of the guy in those pictures touching me made me sick, and I dropped to my knees in the nick of time to empty my stomach into the toilet.

  When
I was face-to-face with my entire dinner once again, I flushed and then dropped down so that my back was pressed against the sink cabinet. I felt drained and still nauseated. Reluctantly, I looked into my bedroom, as if those damn pictures could see me, and fought a shudder.

  I received inappropriate fan mail all the time. It was part of being famous. But I’d never gotten something like…that. It was disgusting—and creepy.

  And scary.

  I started to shiver so hard my teeth began to chatter. My first thought was to take a hot shower to warm up, but the thought of being naked while those pictures were only yards away made me feel too exposed.

  First things first. I needed to get those damned things out of my personal space.

  But I didn’t want to touch them again. I felt unclean, knowing I’d already handled most of those pictures. Standing, I washed my hands—three times—before brushing my teeth to get the taste of vomit out of my mouth. Still shaking, I walked into the bedroom, but I kept my distance from the scattered photos as I sprinted to the kitchen.

  After finding a trash bag and some tongs, I went back to my room and put everything into the bag.

  But as I was about to carry them out to the garbage chute, I realized I couldn’t just toss them. I needed to tell the authorities about this. Shit, how did I even do that? I couldn’t just call 9-1-1 and tell them I thought some guy was possibly stalking me. The dispatcher would probably laugh her head off at me.

  Sighing, I picked up my phone and called my agent. Cathryn Schneider had been in the business for decades; she must have dealt with similar shit before. She would know what I needed to do.

  “Hey, doll!” Cathryn greeted after the fourth ring. “Listen, how do you feel about doing a musical? I just had a script land on my desk, and I think you would be perfect for it. Your father has the voice of a fucking god, so I know you must have at least a little musical talent.”

  “Um, I can sing,” I assured her, but my voice shook with a mixture of fear and anxiety. I quickly cleared it, hating that I sounded so weak. “That isn’t why I’m calling, C.”

  “Uh oh,” she said. “This doesn’t sound good.”

  I quickly told her what happened and heard her grumble something I didn’t catch.

  “Fucking pervs,” she seethed. “Okay, I’m on my way to your place right now. I’ll turn the bag and everything in it over to the authorities. My PR people will make sure this doesn’t leak to the press. Your dad will have a coronary if he hears about this.”

  I gulped. The thought of what this might do to my dad hadn’t even entered my head. But now that she’d put that image in my brain, I suddenly couldn’t stop shaking. “No!” I cried. “You can’t let that happen, Cathryn!”

  Nearly losing my dad to liver disease, then Pop-Pop dying so suddenly, made the idea of something taking my dad from me more terrifying than the creep who’d sent those pictures.

  “I won’t,” she rushed to assure me. “This is just between you and me right now. When I talk to the cops about this, I’ll make sure they keep your information confidential.”

  At her reassurance, I began to relax a little. “I-I think I’m going to go to a hotel for a few days,” I told her. “I just feel too exposed here right now.”

  I could have gone to my parents’ house, or even to Palmer’s apartment, but that would mean having to explain why I didn’t want to stay at my own place. Palmer would get hysterical, but my parents would go ballistic, and I didn’t want to stress any of them out with this shit. Mom had been kind of lost since Pop-Pop’s passing, and I couldn’t function thinking about how much pressure this would put on my dad.

  “Understandable, doll. You pack yourself a bag and be ready by the time I get there. I’ll have my driver drop you off at whatever hotel you prefer. Just in case this bastard is following you. This way, he can’t track you through your car.”

  Following me?

  Track me?

  Feeling sick all over again, I agreed then ended the call. I threw up again before I was able to pack the bag, but by the time Cathryn arrived, I was ready to go.

  An hour later, as I dropped my exhausted body down onto the end of the bed in a suite in the Waldorf, I had the crazy urge to call Jordan. The events of the evening were pressing down on me, and I wanted to talk to someone I felt safe with. My first choice would be Daddy, but if I heard his voice right then, I knew I would start crying.

  Then I remembered Jordan was in Milan and the huge time difference. Closing my eyes, I grabbed the extra pillow and pulled it close to my chest.

  It was okay. I was a big girl. I didn’t need Jordan or anyone else to hold my hand.

  This was just a one-off thing. In a few days, I wouldn’t even remember this guy and those stupid pictures…

  I hoped.

  Two

  Arella

  Two days before Christmas Eve, the second package showed up at work. I took one look at the box, and I felt my gut twist as bile threatened to choke me. I left it in my dressing room and called Cathryn, leaving her to deal with it as I wrapped up the last scene before the holiday break that would last until February.

  Cathryn arrived and promised to turn over the box to the appropriate authorities, but all I could do was nod. I didn’t even want to know what was in the box, too sickened by the memories of the contents of the last one. But this wasn’t unusual. There were people who’d sent me disturbing things in the past.

  Just not to this extent.

  I didn’t want anything to do with it. Getting emotional in any way over this kind of shit was just what people like this wanted. To get in my head, scare me, throw me off my game. Well, it wasn’t going to work.

  Even if I was scared and sickened by those first pictures, I wasn’t going to let it bother me.

  At least, not on the surface.

  The fact that I was cowering mentally was something this sonofabitch would never know about.

  I went back to my hotel and showered, but by the time I was done, I still felt unclean and stayed under the spray until I couldn’t take the heat any longer. Determined to put the whole thing out of my mind, I finished wrapping the last of the presents I’d recently bought for my sisters and prepared for Aunt Emmie’s party.

  Arriving late to the big event, I was just in time to see Shaw and Piper helping a bleeding and groaning Cannon into the back of Jagger’s car. I waved at them, but I didn’t stop to ask questions as I sprinted toward my aunt’s house.

  I pressed the doorbell but didn’t bother to wait for someone to answer. The dim roar of voices made me smile as I walked into the living room. My gaze shifted quickly around the room until I spotted my parents. Mom was talking with Uncle Linc and Aunt Dallas, while Daddy was off to himself, rocking my nephew in his arms.

  The biggest grin was on Daddy’s face as he stared down at his grandson, talking softly to him. My heart melted at how happy he looked, and I could have sworn I heard Conrad cooing back at him in response.

  “Arella.” I turned at the sound of my name and smiled when I saw Lyric and his wife, Mila. The beautiful brunette looked like she was about to pop at any minute, her stomach stretched to the point of agony by the twin boys she was pregnant with. But she didn’t look the least bit miserable to me.

  If anything, she looked like she could have gladly fit another beast-sized baby in there and been all too happy with the discomfort. It was kind of unfair that she was so gorgeous, as huge as her belly was right then. I felt a small pang of envy but didn’t know why.

  Maybe it had something to do with the way my cousin was looking at her like she was his entire world. That was what I’d wanted on my eighteenth birthday…

  Pushing those thoughts aside, I hugged Lyric, then kissed Mila’s cheek. “Okay, sexy. I’m seriously pissed that you look this good while waddling,” I teased and laughed when she snorted.

  “Shaw told me it’s the new strut for the catwalk,” she snickered. “Everyone will be waddling in bikinis this time next year.”
>
  “Speaking of Shaw, I just saw her and Piper putting Cannon in the back of Jags’s car. What’s up with that?”

  Lyric pressed his lips together in a tight line before blowing out a harsh sigh. “So, you didn’t see Luca?”

  I gasped and quickly glanced around for Violet, hoping she didn’t overhear us as I shook my head. “No. He’s here?” I finally spotted my blond cousin standing with her husband, talking to Mia. She looked radiant as she smiled up at Remington with her heart in her eyes while he rubbed his hand over her growing baby bump.

  “Relax, Arella. Vi set it up for him to be here.” I felt my jaw drop, sure he was joking. “She had Aunt Emmie set it up,” he amended.

  “Oh, okay. That makes so much more sense.” Kind of. “But why?”

  “To get my parents and hers to make up,” he said with a shrug. “It worked. But I had some serious doubts when Vi and Remington first showed up.”

  “And then Baby Cage made an appearance. For about two seconds,” Mila said in a quiet voice. “And Luca chased him out the door. I’m guessing he caused some real damage?”

  Remembering how badly Cannon was moaning and groaning, I grinned wickedly. “From the sound of it, I’d say possible internal damage. It’s nothing he doesn’t deserve, though.”

  I spoke to the couple for a few more minutes before my dad finally spotted me. I saw his blue-gray eyes light up, and something inside me warmed like it always did. There were daddy’s girls, and there were Drake Stevenson’s girls. My sisters and I knew just how lucky we were to have him as our father, and we never forgot that for even a second. Excusing myself when he called my name, I made my way through the crowd and hugged my favorite man in the universe.

  When Daddy wrapped an arm around me, all the stress of the past few days started to melt away. I pressed my face into his shoulder and inhaled slowly, needing the safety of my father’s arms to calm my racing heart and mind.