Malibu Betrayals (25 page)

Nausea turned her stomach, and she spun away.

Dani laughed and clapped her hands together. “Did a flash go off? Perfect. You must have seen his photographs. Like I said, he’s an artist, and those hands. So demanding, so strong.” The woman shivered.

Sam bent over. “Stop.” Her throat filled with bile.

“Oh, poor baby. Does this hurt you? Are you jealous? Good,” she spat. “Because I had to go home each night knowing he returned to you. You didn’t deserve him, but he wouldn’t leave you. Not out of some undying love, of course. I wouldn’t want you to misunderstand. He had a reputation built around his perfection.”

Sam straightened, her eyes watery from her efforts to control her roiling stomach.

Dani paced, her hands fisted at her sides, knuckles white. “We would have been fine. Our time together filled with pleasure, oh, such pleasure. But you had to ruin that, too. He became so focused on having a child. A child you refused him.”

Sam walked backward, trying to put some space between her and Dani, but the woman just followed. “It would have been perfect, too. You could swell with his baby, while I took care of swelling his…” She leered. “Well, you get the picture. Literally. Oh, I’m brilliant.” Stopping in her tracks, her hilarity flipped to rage. She pointed a shaking finger at Sam and gritted her words out through clenched teeth. “You killed him.”

A small wave rushed ashore, covering Sam’s feet to her ankles. With shaking fingers, she slid her phone from her pocket and around her back, trying to dial 911. She refused to be a victim any longer, though her heart hammered in her chest. The conversation was over. “You weren’t the only one.”

That pulled the woman up short. A look of shock and disbelief contorted her face.

“There were others. Many, many others. Believe me, the stunts he pulled with you were tame compared to the other photographs.” Sam stood her ground, though what she wanted to do was run. “Seems you may have gotten the short end of the stick, so to speak.”

Dani shrieked. “You bitch.”

A resounding smack across her face made Sam gasp for air, and with her hand to her cheek, she stared at the woman. Dani lunged at her, propelling them both into the water. Sam threw her phone to the sand as they submerged under the surface. She struggled to get up and catch her breath, but Dani pushed her back down by the shoulders, screaming obscenities.

Her lungs burned, and her muscles ached trying to break free. Leveraging her foot up and under her hip, Sam shoved with all of her might, rolling the two of them in the water. As soon as she broke free, she rushed back to the sand, slipping away when Dani tried to grab her ankle. She spun to face her. “Are you fucking crazy?”

Coughing, Sam dragged herself to the sand. Grabbing her phone, she pressed send before collapsing to her side.

Dani pulled herself from the water, sputtering.

Sam dialed 911 and threw her hand up at Dani. “Stop.”

Pulling her lip up at one corner, Dani’s eyes darted about, calculating her chances. “Once again someone’s running to your rescue. They won’t always reach you in time, Samantha.” Then yanking away, she took off down the beach.

Sam spoke into the phone, giving her location and a quick rundown of the situation as she watched Dani.

This time Sam let herself sink to the sand, her heart pounding in her chest. The rush in her head noisier than any surf. The police would have questions, but all she could think about was Gage. She needed to go see him and apologize for running, for making decisions that affected both of them by herself.

Now the decision about them would be his, and her chest tightened. She looked like a poor investment, high risk with poor returns. Her baggage and distrust, not to mention running away, but if she could explain to him how her perspective had changed. Maybe…

She’d rather face fifty more Danis than have her future lie in the hands of the man she loved.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Gage poured two fingers of scotch into his glass. A numbness already set into his limbs, a heaviness in his chest. He pulled in a breath and brought the drink to his lips, but stopped before taking a sip. “Fuck.” Setting the scotch next to the bottle, he turned from the wet bar and dropped onto his couch.

The impending press conference weighed heavily, like a multi-million-dollar production doomed to fail. Sam’s goodbye was an unrelenting loop in his head, increasing the pressure behind his eyes.

They were done. Had to be.

She didn’t trust him. Oh, she said she did, she would, but her actions said something different. She’d finally run farther than he could reach. It was time to stop. He dropped his chin to his chest.

He’d spent the last couple days avoiding phone calls and skirting the paparazzi. His home became a shelter and a prison. His dad, Bel, and the Gallaghers all called on him, ducking in with food or a consoling word. The surprise came with a call from Mr. and Mrs. Dekker. They’d felt awful, but Gage assured them he was fine. It was a good thing he excelled in acting. The last thing he wanted was another reason for Sam to hate him. Her parents taking his side would only validate her fears about his celebrity status.

He’d attempted to go surfing, but for the first time, he came out of the water feeling washed up. Stubborn, he’d stayed out in the waves, repeatedly beat down by the big surf time and again. Instead of the water lifting him up, carrying him home, it punished and mocked him for thinking he could change the way people saw him. The way Sam saw him. Finally, he’d limped to the shore and fallen, exhausted and bruised to the sand.

He and Sam were finished, but his pain was just starting. Love wasn’t the half of it. His life had been built up by her, filled with her, from the first night they’d met. He’d never been able to shake her smile, soft voice, or pensive stare. Patience blew into his life at the perfect moment, allowing him to wait for Ethan to move on. The man’s activities were notorious, his split from Sam inevitable.

But Gage hadn’t counted on or been prepared for the baggage Ethan had dumped in his wake. Sam carried his suicide around as an excuse to keep from moving forward, as a reminder to stay away from the celebrity lifestyle, and worst of all, from allowing love to enter her life. Gage was certain he’d done it on purpose.

Stretching his arms over his head, all his muscles tight and tired, he stared at the empty fireplace. California summers weren’t exactly the best time for the heat of the flickering flames, but he needed something to focus his eyes on, but when they rested on a picture of him and Sam, he closed them.

He filled his mind with the project Martin promised, another opportunity to direct—once the scandal fell behind him. Directing tempted him each time he acted; he wanted his hands in the creative process, and his vision played out on screen. Martin agreed to give him the chance.

A knock at the door pulled him from his plans. With a sigh, he pushed up from the sofa, stepped over to the mantel, and lowered the photo onto its face. He made his way to the front door and then peered through the window. His gut twisted, and he lowered his head to the cool wood, closing his eyes.

Sam.

Not sure what more she could say, he opened the door.

She glanced at him, shifting from one foot to the other. Her lower lip caught between her teeth.

Gage straightened and pulled his shoulders back. He needed her to leave.

He remained silent, waiting for her to speak.

She glanced down at the ground, then back to his face, twisting her fingers together at her waist. “Can we talk? For a minute? I know I don’t deserve your time after running away, but I need to apologize.”

Gage hesitated. There really wasn’t anything for her to say that hadn’t already been said. He shook his head slowly. “I’m done chasing you, Sam.”

She dipped her chin. “I know. Just a second?”

He stepped onto the patio and pulled the door closed behind him.

Sam glanced at the closed door, then pulled in a shaky breath.

Gage gestured to the dark wicker chairs surrounding a stone fire pit, not much in use with California’s ever present fire bans.

She wiped her palms on her shorts and made her way to a chair.

He had to brace himself against the subtle scent of her hair lifted by the breeze, and the wary look in her eyes as she looked at him. He settled across from her instead of beside her, needing the distance. “Why are you here?”

“I’m so sorry.” Her voice trembled on her whisper and broke.

So was he, but it didn’t change anything. “Sam, nothing can fix this now. We could plan all we want. We can avoid going to industry events. We could refuse to hire a nanny and promise to raise our children together.”

Sam watched him, pulling in a breath.

“Hell, I could buy an island so the paparazzi couldn’t ever find us.” He shook his head. “But it would never work. You’d still run at the slightest hitch in the plan.”

She leaned forward. “But I wouldn’t.”

He steeled against the tears trailing down her cheeks, and whispered, “But you would, and I can’t do it anymore.”

She lowered her head with a small shake, brown curls cascading over her shoulders, and hid her face.

He waited. Making this easy for her served no one.

Sitting back into the chair, she blinked rapidly and blew out a breath. “I had a visitor today. Dani. I came here straight from the police station.”

Gage straightened. “Are you okay? Did she hurt you?”

She studied his face. “I’m okay, just shaken up. She’s responsible for the pranks. All of them. She informed me of what happened in the office. She was never really after you, just using you to hurt me. She’d been one of Ethan’s toys, thought she was the only one, and went pretty crazy when I told her there had been many more.”

Gage reached out a hand, then let it fall back to his lap. “Why were you alone?”

A raw laugh escaped through Sam’s lips. “I’ve been staying with my parents, but since the film wrapped up and nothing’s happened, I wouldn’t let my mom go with me. I wanted some time to myself.” She fiddled with the hem of her shorts.

The afternoon sun warmed the dry air, even under the shade of his triangle awning. The urge to invite her inside pushed at him, but he pushed back. “Sam, I’m glad you figured some things out, got the harasser solved. I’m surprised it wasn’t Ethan’s family—”

“Me, too. I’ve figured out why Brigitte and her mother are so desperate to get those photos back.”

Gage frowned. “Why?”

“Let’s just say, Brigitte is very photogenic when her brother is, ahhh, working the camera.”

Gage choked on a cross between a bark of laughter and a dry heave. “Wow.”

“Yeah. I think the issues run deep in that family.” Sam smiled, a small sad curve of her lips.

They remained silent for a few seconds. Gage shifted in his seat. Seeing her but not touching her hurt him—everywhere. He missed her, but they had real issues. She’d never be able to handle the constant intrusion of Hollywood, and he couldn’t live fearing any second she’d leave again.

The reflection of the sun glinting off the glass-tiled vases along the edge of his patio fatigued his eyes. He squinted against the glare. “Sam, why are you here? I’m sorry for all of it, but really.”

She stared off into the neighbor’s palm trees. “Your career brings a lot of hard things to deal with, but my past does, too. I left because I’m tired of hurting you, tired of my baggage hurting your career.” Scooting to the edge of her seat, she looked at him. “I shouldn’t have made a decision that was yours, but I was trying to protect you. Do you understand?”

He looked off above her head and then back to her. “Of course I do, but you’ve always been worth any shit I’d have to deal with, any bumps it might cause me.
I’m
not worth it to you.”

She looked at him, her eyes welling. Shaking her head with a tilt, she whispered, “That’s not true. I was horrified that they’d do that to you, to us, the night of your premiere, and sick of feeling like it was all my fault.”

“And you took it out on me by turning your back? Pretending like you weren’t part of something…part of me?”

“Yes,” she rasped.

That was it? “You ran. Again,” he yelled, but then jerked his chin to the side and pulled in a breath. “You left me standing there alone.”

She flinched. “I was so angry and exhausted. I thought you’d be better off without me. I’d convinced myself you deserved better than your past constantly thrown in your face, and if I stayed with you, that’s exactly what would happen.” She reached for him with an outstretched hand. “But you didn’t deserve to be abandoned.”

“No, I didn’t, and it’s taken me a long time to figure that out…to
believe
it.” He dipped his chin and then looked out to the lazy street. Beautiful homes dotted with palm trees and tropical flowers stood in paradise—his personal hell. The woman he loved with every breath sat before him, and he had to make her leave. She didn’t trust him to take care of her or to protect his own career. And she didn’t trust they could handle what Hollywood threw at them. It was too much, and now he no longer trusted her.

He held her gaze. “You can let go of any guilt about hurting my career. It isn’t something I worried about because I can handle it. I know what I’m doing. You made my decision for me, and you ran. But that doesn’t explain why you’re here. What’s changed, Sam?”

Folding her hands in her lap, she swallowed. “Not being with you didn’t make it better. You’re still dealing with crap, and I’m miserable without you. I love you, Gage, and I just didn’t understand exactly what that meant before.”

His chest burned, and he clenched his jaw, pulling air in through his nose. He wanted to believe her, but he couldn’t.

He pushed from the chair.

Sam hastily stood and then stepped around the fire pit.

Gage put his hand out to stop her from stepping closer. He shook his head.

She stilled, her eyes wide and filling with tears. Stepping toward him, she reached out her hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.”

“Gage.”

He sucked in a breath and closed his ears to the plea in her voice, focusing over her head at nothing, at everything. “I need you to go, Sam.”

She wrapped her arms about her waist and nodded. “Okay.” Her word barely a whisper. She hesitated, then stepped toward him once more.

He stiffened.
Please, God, don’t let her touch me. If she touches me, I’ll cave.
“No.”

She stopped.

Gage couldn’t take anymore. Her sobs squeezed his chest in a painful grip. He turned, opened his door, and then stepped through. Turning back, he sent her a nod. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

She tilted her head. “Gage.”

The pain and pleading in her eyes tugged at him. He closed the door slow, but with a solid
thunk
. Once again, he leaned his forehead against the wood and then turned and sank to the floor.

He hung his head, shoulders heavy. “Fuck.”

Gage sipped his chili pepper hot chocolate, watching the families and couples walking through the courtyard outside of the Chocolate Box.

Sliding into her seat across from him, Bel eyed his drink and pointed at his choice. “It’s nearly one hundred degrees outside.”

“Yeah, but it’s cold and empty in here.”

She frowned. “Oh, Gage. I’m sorry.”

He felt like a candy ass.
Shit
. He was a man, damn it. Bellyaching and pity-parties never sat well with him. He raked a hand through his hair.

“So what happened?” Bel watched him as she tossed a small piece of dark chocolate into her mouth.

“I envy you.”

“If you mention the fact I can eat anything and never gain weight, I’ll kick you under the table.”

“No, no.” He chuckled. Bel’s waif-like figure challenged her every day. She ate and ate, but never gained an ounce. Most would thank God for that phenomenon. Hollywood would pay millions to bottle the ability. But not Bel. She prayed for fuller hips and thicker thighs. The grass was always greener. “No, I envy you for being single.”

She did kick him. Hard.

“Ouch. Come on.” He reached down and rubbed his shin, throwing her an angry glance.

“You’re an ass.” She shook her head, brows drawn together.

“I’m not kidding.”

She wound up to kick him again.

“Stop.” He moved his legs out of range. “Look, right now, you’re traveling, working, and enjoying each day with no obligations, no need to prove yourself, no need to fit within someone else’s agenda. I’m just saying I envy your carefree days. Pain-free days.”

Bel studied him. “That’s bullshit. I’m lonely. My nights? I fill them with movies and books and music. Anything to keep the awareness that my house is quiet and not another soul is breathing the air I breathe.” She bit into another piece of chocolate. “I’d risk the pain. At least then I’d be feeling something.”

“It’s not worth it.” Gage raised his glass in a toast.

“Really? Knowing that someone wants only you, to create a life with
you
. That they count the hours, the minutes, until they see you again. Dream your dreams, love your loves. Yeah. Sounds horrible.”

“The worst pain you can imagine is when something you love goes away and nothing you can do will ever bring it back.”

Bel studied him, silent.

He broke her gaze and looked back out to the interior courtyard. A man snapped photos of him and his sister from behind a potted ficus. He rolled his eyes. Didn’t they see the no paparazzi sign? They weren’t fooling anybody. The urge to flip them off was strong. So he did.

“Gage.”

He turned his gaze back to his sister. “What?” Pressing his lips together, he looked away, then back. “They’re all parasites.”

“I agree, but you don’t need any help looking like an ass.”

He smirked. “Nice.”

His sister reached across the tabletop and rubbed the top of his hand. “You have to forgive her. Understand, she is who she is. The pain you go through? She’s not worth it.”

Gage drew his brows together. Sam may have verbally severed an artery, but listening to anyone, even Bel, speak of her in such a way pissed him off. “Look, you’re my sister. Be mad. But don’t talk about Sam like that.”