CHAPTER TEN

SAVANNAH

––––––––

Who the hell is leaving me these notes? It's one thing getting fan mail that's a little unhinged, but taking my panties and leaving a note saying they're going to taste me is...

That's terrifying.

Also, I fucked Ryder.

A lot is going on.

Oh, and that crazy bitch Selena from The Selena Hendrix Show decided to throw me a surprise by giving away a VIP lunch with Nick and me, which wasn't approved by me or my manager.

I don't do private events with fans.

I discussed it with Michelle and told her I didn't feel comfortable.

If I decided to do them, it sure as fuck wouldn't be something we'd give to Selena fucking Hendrix.

The value of a private lunch with me and Nick is enormous. I'd want to use that opportunity to raise money for charity or bring awareness to an environmental issue.

Not The fucking Selena Hendrix Show.

God, she's an asshole.

There is no getting out of it. It happened in front of two hundred people, and if we don't follow through, it will be all over social media.

She trapped me.

My lawyer will be calling them tomorrow once I can catch my breath after reading the stalker note I found in my dressing room.

They took my panties.

How fucking disgusting.

Who the hell is it?

I've read about stalkers, and knew it was a possibility, but actually living it is completely different.

My mind is racing, trying to work out who it could be.

If it wasn't so obvious, I'd think it was Selena. It still could be. But even this is too low for her. She nearly cost me my career. The day I auditioned for the role of Charlotte, she was walking in as I left. For someone much more famous than me, she certainly has it in for me.

One would say she was threatened.

It was only that the hiring team thought I was perfect for the role, which made them call through to my manager to inquire about the porn videos I'd starred in.

The ones which don't exist.

Bitch.

No one was impressed with her behavior, and when my manager told her we were aware of what she'd done, no apology followed.

I ended up telling Nick halfway through filming the first movie. We'd gotten close, and our media schedules had been distributed, including going on her show as I'd done today. He insisted we do the show together. As a bigger star last year, he had that kind of pull. I didn't.

This year I thought the entire thing was water under the bridge.

Nope. She's still a bitch.

How dare she pull that shit? This time I am taking legal action, and she can finally learn not to fuck with me.

So was it her?

Maybe. But was it physically possible? I just can't see how.

Ryder keeps shooting me looks in the mirror. He has since day one—which was yesterday, I remind myself—but now his glances have a mix of desire and concern in them.

We park across from Macy's, and he tells Jack to run in and buy me a pair of cotton panties. "Just get one of those packs of three or whatever."

Jack drags his eyes from Ryder to me in disbelief, and I bite my bottom lip to stop from giggling. Jack is my dad's age, so he must be so uncomfortable.

"I'd go in but..." I shrug. "He won't let me."

"I can't leave her." Ryder hands him a twenty-dollar bill, surprising me again. "Go. We have five minutes."

"Umm..." Jack looks up from the money.

"Extra small please." I tell him and he climbs out of the car. "Ryder, I can pay for my own panties. The fact I have a twelve-hundred-dollar bra on is proof."

"The fact that your face is on every billboard in America right now is proof." He replies and settles back in his seat.

Is it bad that I really want him to kiss me? That my body has been low-level humming all day, wishing he would touch me even though I know he can't.

That the entire time my team was fluffing around doing hair and makeup, and I was pretending to ignore Ryder, all I wanted was for the room to clear and for him to lift me onto the counter and crush his mouth on mine.

God, I want that.

I'm living in this weird mix of fear about this stalker and lust for Ryder. It's very confusing.

I fucked my bodyguard.

I'm not sure how to feel about it. Except needy for more. Much more. I'm determined to make him kiss me.

I know I shouldn't...but he's the most gorgeous, sexy man I've ever seen in my life.

"You know this isn't necessary. I wouldn't be flashing my bits around Hollywood, as you put it. I mean, you saw my pussy—it's not flapping."

"Jesus, Savannah." Ryder rubs his hand over his face.

I smirk, knowing I'm getting under his skin.

It was totally on purpose.

"Tonight, we should talk about what happened."

"No, we shouldn't," Ryder replies. "We'll be focusing on much more relevant matters, such as whoever it is threatening you."

I feel my phone vibrate on my lap and turn it over. "Hey, Nick."

"How was cow face?" he asks.

"Well," I start and then tell him about Selena offering the giveaway to the audience.

"The fuck?" he cries.

"I was put on the spot. I couldn't say no." I shake my head as Jack climbs back in and tosses me the Macy's bag, then we hit the road.

"No way she would've pulled that if I was there," Nick spits.

Hmmm.

Maybe.

He doesn't know about my stalker yet and I want to tell him, but for some reason I wait.

I catch Ryder watching me in his mirror, and we lock eyes while I keep talking. His eyes are pure sex. Watching them glisten when he slid his cock inside me this morning was intoxicating.

But there was something missing—a lack of intimacy, a coolness. Yes, it was a rough and wild fuck, and what I wanted. What we both needed. But Ryder was removed emotionally.

Perhaps it's because of his past in the military.

I might want him, but the last thing I need is any rumors about me sleeping with my bodyguard, so I drag my eyes away and focus back on the call.

"I'm going to speak to Michelle and will be speaking to my lawyer. Selena Hendrix has gone too far," I tell him.

"You have to act. I'll have my own legal team send something too. Selena is out of line. Who the fuck does she think she is—aside from the biggest daytime talk host?"

Yes, well, there was that.

Still, there would be legal implications for her and the production company, so if she thought Nick and I were going to take this lying down, she's dreaming.

Then I'm reminded of another concern I have.

"Nick," I say, "yesterday with Gina. I need you to be clear to her that she isn't your PA."

"Babe," Nick says. "It's no big deal."

It is. She's my assistant and keeps running around after him.

"Tell me you're not fucking her."

"You told me not to," he says, and it's not an answer. Before I can call him on it, my phone beeps with a second call.

I glance at the screen.

It's Michelle.

"Gotta run. I'll see you in New York tomorrow afternoon for the Tonight Show."

"See you tomorrow, babe," Nick says.

As I end and take the next call, Ryder's eyes narrow at me.

He really doesn't like Nick.

I spend the rest of the drive updating Michelle about The Selena Hendrix Show. We agree the lawyers are best to take the lead on this. But she's furious on our behalf.

Finally, the day is over, and we arrive home.

"I need to ask you some questions to see if we can identify who is leaving these notes," Ryder says, following me into the living room.

"I need to eat." I let out a tired sigh.

We stare at one another, an invisible thread tugging between us. I crave his touch. I want him to walk to me and wrap his arms around me.

To kiss me.

To pleasure me as he did earlier.

I can see in his eyes he desires more but is fighting it. His jaw is taunt, and I watch as his hands curl.

"What happened this morning—"

"Was a one off. I won't let it happen again," Ryder says.

"Tell me why you wouldn't kiss me," I press.

"Fuck, Savannah, I shouldn't have even touched you." He walks right up to me and groans as his hand cups my face.

Then drops away.

"No one needs to know," I whisper as my breathing speeds up.

Kiss me.