Chapter 22

Cheyenne

Vancouver was unseasonably chilly,and it had been raining every day since I'd been here. It was cold and miserable, leaving me feeling much of the same. I'd had another argument with my mother about Wyatt, the Phantoms were now on a losing streak, so Ivan was in a bad mood too, and despite reaching out to Stevie twice, I hadn't heard back from her. More than anything, I wanted to be back in L.A., cuddled up with Ivan, spending a lazy day in bed.

Instead, I was wearing a skimpy bikini and pretending to give a shit about the character I was portraying in this movie.

It wasn't my first time on a set, and I was a decent actress considering I only had a handful of lines, but I was struggling to focus. It didn't help that the actor playing the male lead, who was cheating on his wife with my character for the storyline, seemed to be as much of an ass in real life as he was in the script. He followed me around constantly, trying to chat me up and asking me to have dinner with him twice, even though he was married.

I'd been in the industry my entire life, so none of this was new, but once in a while it got to me. Every so often I wanted to tell everyone to fuck off and leave me alone. I didn't do it, of course, but I wanted to.

More than anything, I missed Ivan.

It was ridiculous to be so attached to him, but I couldn't seem to help it.

Especially after the other night when he told me he wasn't going anywhere. I'd heard that before, but I'd never come so close to believing it. If Ivan loved me, was in love with me, and wanted to make it work, I'd be willing to compromise on my retirement plan. If I was honest, I'd be willing to compromise on pretty much anything he asked of me. I'd begun to envision what life could be like with him, and I liked how that looked in my head, which could only mean one thing: I was in love with him.

I just wasn't sure how reality would measure up to the fantasy I'd begun to formulate in my brain, and that was terrifying.

He'd still be on the road with the team a lot of the time.

I wasn't going to give up modeling, not at twenty-four, so while I could slow down a little, I wasn't ready to retire. And I didn't know what that meant for us as a couple. Could we truly make it work with our disparate schedules and lifestyles? More importantly, did he want to or was he just temporarily blinded by good sex and how easy I'd made it for him by flying all over the place to be with him? Not that I minded. I had the means, and usually the flexibility, to be with him more than other women who dated professional athletes, so it was a good thing.

He brought a lot to the table when it came to us being together. He made me feel safe when we were together. We had mutual friends and a social circle that was wonderful. We could build a life together. If we worked at it. Unfortunately, I'd been around the block enough times to know that while men generally loved the idea of dating a supermodel, most of them didn't know how to handle it.

My job, and lifestyle, came with a lot of challenges. For one thing, there was always perceived competition. Men flocked to me, everywhere I went. Old, young, rich, or poor, men tended to bend over backwards to get my attention. No matter how many times I said I wasn't interested.

Money was also an issue.

I was worth almost a hundred million dollars. Ivan, from what I'd found online, was worth much less. Probably closer to ten. It didn't bother me, but historically, men were emasculated by a salary difference like that. Money hadn't even come up in our conversations so far, which was probably a mistake, but how did you start a discussion like that?

There were so many potential issues, yet I clung to one whispered sentence that had probably been spoken in the heat of the moment.

"I'm not going anywhere."

Had he meant it?

There were no readily available answers and I fell asleep that night thinking about all the ways things could go wrong.

Was Ivan the man who could stand up to the pressure of my life and responsibilities, and be the man I needed him to be?

I really wanted to believe he was.

He faced a lot of similar challenges with his career, but while that could potentially mean he understood the complications of my life, it also could mean that he wanted to be with a woman who came without those issues. One person in a relationship with a high-pressure and high-profile job was a lot; two people with a job like that could be disastrous.

I woke up feeling almost as grumpy as I had the night before, but the sun was shining, I wasn't needed on set today, and I'd planned a spa day to try to relax and pamper myself before Ivan got here in a couple of days.

I'd just settled in the chair to get a pedicure when Stevie's name flashed on the screen of my phone.

This wasn't the place for me to have the conversation we needed to have, but I didn't want to ignore her if she was finally reaching out.

"Hi," I said as casually as I could.

"Hey." She sounded…tired? Down? Not her usual self.

"How are you?"

"I'm okay. You?"

"Not bad." I paused. "You still mad at me?"

"Yes. No. I don't know."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Chey, I'm pregnant."

Oh fuckety-fuck-fuck.

That was potentially the worst news ever.

"Are you…happy?" I asked carefully.

"What do you think? I'm a model! I can't do what I do pregnant."

"I…what happened to your implant?"

"It expired over the summer, and I haven't had time to get it changed. We've been using condoms, but..."

I groaned. "Oh, Stevie…"

"Chey… I think he did it on purpose."

"What?" I was startled at this news. It was the first time she'd ever said anything even remotely negative about Damien, so this kind of revelation was totally unexpected.

"He's been complaining about how much I work and said it was time for me to settle down and stop taking my clothes off in front of people. Or something like that."

"What can I do?" I asked softly. "What do you need?"

"I don't know. I can't have a baby right now. I can't. But…I love him. How can I have an abortion?" She started to sob quietly, my heart breaking a little for her.

This was the type of thing I'd been afraid of.

He would hurt her, I had no doubt of that, but he'd found a way to tie them together forever, and I hated him for it.

If she thought he'd done it on purpose, then I absolutely believed it.

Son of a bitch.

"Look, I'm in Vancouver for a few more days, but why don't you come out to L.A. when I get back? We can hang out, have some girl talk, and maybe come up with a plan."

"O-okay." She sniffled. "I've got a shoot on Monday, here in New York. Then I can probably get away for a few days, but Damien won't like it."

"Have you told him about the baby yet?"

"I haven't told anyone but you."

"We'll figure it out, okay? Promise. How far along are you?"

"I don't know. Barely. Maybe five or six weeks? I haven't seen a doctor or anything, I've just been feeling tired and got a bad feeling, so I took a test."

"Did you throw it in the trash at home?"

"Of course not. I did it in the restroom at Neiman's."

"Okay." I was wracking my brain to figure out a solution that might help her, but so far, nothing was coming to me.

Accidental pregnancy was a model's worst nightmare.

For someone like me, who had the fame and platform to make it work for me, it wouldn't be the end of the world. I could model throughout my pregnancy, probably get some sponsorships for stretchmark creams and stuff like that, that would allow me to continue to work and make money throughout. Stevie wasn't quite at my level. She made a good living doing runway and catalogue work, but she didn't have the social media following I did, or the sponsorships.

If she decided to keep the baby, not only would Damien be in her life forever, but her life would never be the same.

I wouldn't say that out loud, though.

Not yet.

"It's going to be okay," I told her. "Just hang in there until next week, all right? We'll figure something out."

"Thank you," she whispered. "For being a good friend when I've been really crazy."

"We've all gone through crazy," I said. "That's what friends are for, right? To be there for you when life is crazy."

"I'm scared, Chey."

"I know. But we'll figure something out. You'll see."

"I hope so."

I didn't know if there was any way for me to help her, but at the very least I would have her back. That's what you did when someone close to you was having a crisis. I'd always felt that way and nothing would change that, no matter how rich or successful I got.

* * *

My worryabout Stevie kept me from missing Ivan too much, but when he arrived, I forgot everything but him. We spent another incredible night in bed, though there was more to us than sex. I'd ordered late-night room service, and after we'd made love, we brought the tray over to the bed so we could eat. I filled him in on what was happening with Stevie, and he seemed sympathetic but wary.

"She's going to stay with him," he said. "You and I both know it. If there's a baby, I don't see her leaving him."

"That's my fear too," I admitted. "I was hoping she would start to see how awful he is, but now she's stuck."

"You don't think she'll have an abortion?"

"I don't. She's unhappy but she also thinks she still loves him. And while I can and will encourage her to break things off, I can't tell anyone to have an abortion. That's not my place."

"No," he agreed. "That's a difficult position to be in. I certainly wouldn't."

"But if he did it on purpose, then he's after something."

"Does she make a lot of money? Does he?"

I frowned. "I mean, she makes a nice living, but nothing like what I make. I would guess a million a year. The issue is that I have no idea what he makes. Or if he has debts or whatever."

"From what he's said, he's some sort of Vice President on Wall Street…" He pulled out his phone and typed something in. "It looks like he probably taps out at around three hundred thousand a year. Maybe a little more with bonuses."

"So, she makes quite a bit more than him," I mused. "Which could make that his end game."

"We should get some dirt on him," he said. "Hire someone to do a background check."

"That's a great idea," I replied. "I hate to go behind her back, but what choice do we have? The real issue is how do I tell her if we find really bad stuff?"

"The other option is to let her go blindly into marriage with him. She can raise a child without him, but if she marries him, especially if they do it without a prenuptial, she could lose everything."

"Fuck." The thought of that jerk taking everything from Stevie pissed me off and motivated me to try and help her. "Yeah, I guess I need to do it. Harper has a firm she uses out of Vegas. I'll get the info and have them do some digging."

"It feels good to be proactive, eh?"

I nodded. "It does. Thanks for the idea."

"Well, if you care about Stevie, then I do too. She makes me a little crazy when I see the way she treats you, but I feel bad for her now."

"She's been through a lot. One guy left her at the altar. Her other fiancé married her sister, and her parents sided with them, so she lost her family and her fiancé in one fell swoop."

"Oh, that's brutal." He made a face. "Her parents suck."

"They do. And her dad stole millions from her before she turned eighteen, money that she could have used, you know? She desperately wants someone to love her, to put her first… and somehow, she falls for the wrong guys over and over again. Don't get me started on the photographer when she was in high school."

"I have some nice, single teammates," he said thoughtfully. "If we can get her out of her current situation, maybe we'll find her the right guy, who'll treat her the way she deserves. No one should settle for a Damien."

Truer words had never been spoken.