Chapter Five

Kaiden

"Hey," Laura says, shutting the lid of her laptop and lifting her gaze to mine when I walk through the kitchen door. A tired smile tips the corners of her lips up, but it doesn't reflect in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" I growl, instantly on alert.

"Nothing."

I drop my keys on the counter and pace toward her, not buying that response for a second. She may be an actress, but she's a shit liar. I've learned how to read my little shining star. I know when she's happy and when she's sad. I know when she's telling the truth and when she's editing her responses to make them more palatable. And I know when something is weighing heavily on her.

It is right now. It has been for several days now. She's been quiet and withdrawn. The furrow between her brow grows deeper every day. This morning, she was throwing up. She's anxious as hell about something, and it's eating at her.

The last few weeks between us have been the best of my life. I plummeted into love with her, sinking like a fucking stone. She's perfection from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. When she touches me, my entire world lights up. When she laughs, the goddamn angels sing. I've never been the kind of man who believes in love at first sight or soulmates and any of that flowery shit…but meeting Laura proved me wrong.

I don't merely love her. I breathe for her. There is nothing I wouldn't do to make this woman happy if she asked it of me. But she rarely asks for anything. She's content just being with me. The fact that she isn't talking about whatever is bothering her is worrying the fuck out of me.

Every spare moment we have, we spend together. We mostly live together. After that first weekend together, I just never went back home. We never discussed it. We didn't need to discuss it. By the time I got off on Monday, we were both fucking dying to see each other again. I raced back here, breaking every fucking speed limit on the way.

By the time I made it to the front door, she had it open and was leaping into my arms.

We fucked in the foyer, her chest pressed against the wall.

All of my shit has slowly found its way to her place in the weeks since. Whenever I bring more, she lights up like I just bought her a diamond tiara. My clothes hang beside hers in the closet. My shit mingles with hers on the bathroom counter.

I want to fuck her every time I catch her smiling over it.

When she marries me—and she will be marrying me—I plan to deposit whatever she paid for this place into her account. She loves her home. I won't ask her to give that up. Call me old-fashioned or whatever the fuck you want, but I take care of my woman, not the other way around. Her money is her money. God knows I have plenty of my own sitting in the bank. She won't ever want for anything. Neither will our kids.

I cage her in with my arms on either side of her and lean down to kiss the frown from her face.

She melts beneath me with a soft sigh, but the furrow doesn't leave her brow.

"Tell me what's wrong," I demand, determined to get to the bottom of it here and now. If she's thinking about trying to end things between us, I need her to say it outright so I can fix whatever I did to upset her. She's not getting rid of me. I'm hers until the day I die.

"Nothing is wrong," she lies. "I was just reading a script for a Christmas movie, The Naughty List. I think I'm going to take it. It's a short production." She bites her lip. "But it starts filming in two days. It's, literally, a last-minute project for some new studio."

"This late in the year?"

"Right?" She shrugs. "Don't ask me what they're thinking. Maybe it won't air until next year? I'm not sure, but the script is fantastic, and the pay is great."

"Where is it filming?"

"Here."

I exhale, relieved she won't be dashing off across the country yet. I know it'll happen eventually. If she gets the part in the action movie she's auditioned for, she'll be filming in Canada. That's going to drive me up the wall. But I won't stand in the way of her career. Hell no. I'll swallow my own tongue before I tell her no.

"Take it, princess," I murmur, brushing my thumb across her soft bottom lip. "A Christmas movie is right up your alley." She's got me watching the damn things on the Hallmark channel every time she gets her hands on the remote. Last night, I dreamed we were stuck in one of the fucking things.

"I love Christmas movies," she whispers. I'm trying like hell to tone down my dislike of the holiday for my little star, but I don't think it's working much. My surly attitude about the holiday riles her up, which means I get to calm her back down. Which means we end up fucking. Gotta say…it's not a lot of incentive to change my Scrooge-like ways.

Any excuse to get her naked is a good excuse in my book.

I want this year to be magical for her, especially since her parents aren't here to celebrate with her. Especially since it's our first year together. I already know what I'm getting her. But like I said, I'm not good with flowery shit, and I need this woman to fall in love with me.

I know what life is like without her, and I can't go back to that. She's the best part of every day. I don't know why the fuck she chose a man like me when she's lightyears out of my league, but she chose me anyway. I'll walk through hell to keep her now that she's mine. Whatever it takes.

"Are you ready to tell me what's been bugging you?" I ask.

"Nothing is bugging me, Kaiden."

"Are you tired of me, princess?"

"What?" She gapes at me in shock. "Of course not! I could never be tired of you."

"Then what's going on?"

"Nothing." Her gaze darts to her laptop and then quickly away.

Whatever is going on has to do with her computer.

I pick her up from her seat, depositing her on the island beside her laptop. She grumbles under her breath about me being a caveman, but I ignore the comment. I am a caveman when it comes to her, and I'm not apologizing for it. She fucking loves it, and we both know she does.

I slide into her seat and flip open the lid of her laptop.

"No!" she cries, trying to slam the lid closed again.

I shoot her a quelling look and gently pry her hands off the lid.

"Please don't look," she whispers.

"Tell me why I shouldn't," I growl.

"It's going to make you mad."

"Why?"

"Because it's just stupid gossip."

My blood pressure spikes. "Who are they saying you're fucking?"

"What?" She blinks at me in obvious consternation. "No one."

Well, that's surprising.

"Tell me what they're saying about you," I say, my voice soft.

She stares at me for a moment, and then her shoulders slump. "They're saying I keep missing events and haven't been seen out in a while because I have body image issues," she whispers, tears welling in her eyes. "They think I had weight-loss surgery."

"Jesus Christ," I mutter in disgust, my blood pressure spiking higher.

"It's not true!" she cries as if I'm not already well aware of that. I'm why she's been missing events and hasn't been seen. I'm the only thing she's been hiding. And they're fucking gossiping about her, tearing her to shreds as if she isn't a real person with real feelings who has to read the shit they write about her.

I wiggle the mouse attached to her laptop, bringing the screen to life. She has a web browser open to an article on Celebrity Teatime. I skim the article, fury pulsing through me as I read their hot take on why she's been MIA the past few weeks. It's all bullshit. And it's all my goddamn fault. She's been keeping a low profile to protect me, and this is what they spin it into. This is what they do to her.

I close the lid of her laptop in disgust and pull her off the island and into my arms. She wraps around me like a koala bear, burying her face in my shoulder. She doesn't cry. My little star is far too strong to cry over gossip, but I know she's hurting over it. The fuckers. As if her body isn't perfect exactly the way it is. My God. Men would kill just for a chance to be close to her.

Goddamn. What is with this town and its sick fascination with women's bodies? They're dying over this shit, and still, these assholes keep publishing this crap as if they have any right to comment. It's abhorrent. Laura is perfect exactly the way she is. And if she did have weight loss surgery, it wouldn't be any of their goddamned business.

I want to find everyone who has published this bullshit and rage. But I can't do that. I have to protect her. Going on the defensive will only add fuel to the fire. Instead of shutting the story down, it'll only grow. That's how it works in this town. The more you protest, the more they think you have something to hide. The more vicious they become.

No one deserves that, least of all the woman in my arms.

"What can I do?" I ask, pressing my lips to her temple as guilt washes through me in a flood. This is all my fucking fault, and she's been dealing with it alone to protect me. Fuck that. It's my job to protect her, not the other way around.

"Just hold me, Kaiden," she whispers. "Make it all go away."

As if she even needs to ask.

When my phone rings three hours later, Laura is naked and sleeping peacefully in my arms. I made love to her softly, sweetly, until she couldn't take any more. She drifted off in my arms, unable to hold her eyes open a moment longer. I've been wide awake, my mind spinning in dizzying circles.

I need to fix this for her. But where do I even start?

I want to shout from the fucking rooftops that she's mine, and she's been too busy with me to bother with their inane bullshit. But is that fair to her? She's a goddamn knockout. I'm a washed-up has-been, a stuntman who can't stunt. One most people in this town can't even look at without flinching. She's lightyears out of my league, and everyone knows it.

What will being linked to me do to her professionally?

I don't fucking know. I never thought that far ahead when I claimed her. Part of me refused to think that far ahead, perhaps because I already knew the answer. It's not just the scar on my face that puts her out of my league. I'm a grumpy, reclusive bastard. I'm out of shape. I'm twice her age. She's sunshine. I'm dark alleys.

She's mine anyway. Mine to protect. Mine to claim. Mine to love.

But how the fuck do I do that without hurting her career?

Ironic that they accuse her of having body image issues when I'm the one with a whole fucking boatload of those. But the thing is, I don't even fucking care what people say about me anymore. I survived that storm once. I can do it a second time. I care what people say about her because of me.

My phone rings again.

I gently slide out from beneath her. Her brow furrows in her sleep, her lips pursing into a pout that has my cock twitching. Swear to God, every expression that crosses her face fascinates me. She's enchanting in her unguarded moments, so excruciatingly beautiful it hurts.

I grab my phone and slip from the room.

"Hello?" I growl.

"Mr. Huxley?"

"Speaking."

"This is Nick Saint. I spoke with Jackson Reed earlier in the day but wanted to speak with you as well," the man on the other end of the line says. "Heart & Soul Studios is putting together a last-minute production of a Christmas film I wrote, and we'd like to hire you."

"For what?" I ask, leaning against the wall outside of the bedroom. "I don't do stunt work."

"Oh, of course not," Nick Saint says. "Mr. Reed will oversee stunt coordination, but I understand that you do most of the training. We'd like to have you on hand to help with any training issues that might arise. It'll be a short production, filming right here in Hollywood."

"What's the name of the movie?" I ask, going completely still. There's no fucking way it's the same one Laura just told me about a few hours ago.

"The Naughty List."

Son of a bitch. It is the same movie.

I'm not one who believes much in signs from above or fate, but if I were…well, this would be a pretty big sign that it's time for me to get my head out of my ass. The universe is throwing me a bone here, and I'd be an idiot not to take it.

I haven't been on a film set since I almost died on one, but being with me is causing Laura problems she doesn't need. If this is how I fix it, then this is how I fix it. It doesn't matter if people stare or judge me. It doesn't matter if I'm uncomfortable as fuck or if turning to face the past is painful. All that matters is my little star.

She needs to know that she can count on me to have her back and do what is best for her, no questions asked. I'll face any discomfort and jump through any hoop. I can't hunt down every gossip that posts something negative about her, but I can make her life easier. Starting here and now.

It's time for me to rejoin the world. Beginning with this movie.

"I'm in," I growl to Nick, my decision made.