Page 4 of Vain (Tempest #2)

Chapter Four

MATILDA

I retreat to my room and take a long, cool shower. I take my time getting ready for the day, knowing that donning my clothes and makeup will be like slipping on armor, hoping they offer me some measure of protection against the world.

After washing my hair, I blow-dried it and set it in rollers while I did my makeup and got dressed, leaving me with lots of volume and waves.

Spraying a little product to hold it in place, I take a deep breath and call it good while reminding myself I need to have a sit-down conversation with Aiden before we leave.

He’s being pretty cool about things, but he can’t protect me without all the facts.

I grip the counter and wonder if he’ll think I’m losing it like the police do.

Shaking my head, I smooth down the front of my blazer and take in my reflection.

Wanting to look both professional and casual, I teamed a fitted white shirt with a pair of light gray boot-cut jeans and a charcoal-colored blazer.

A tie of black pearls lies around my neck, adding a touch of sophisticated sparkle to the outfit.

The black ballet pumps have a glitter effect that shimmers when they catch the light.

Sure, I could have worn heels, but I’m already pushing myself out of my comfort zone for the day.

I‘d rather not have to throw sore feet into the mix, too.

Walking back into the living area, I pick up the manuscript from the sofa and hold it to my chest. Ever since this script landed on my desk, I became obsessed with bringing it to life.

Not as the leading star, as the director.

I’d been dabbling in producing and co-directing the last few movies I made, but something held me back from making the leap.

Part of me knew I was waiting for the perfect script.

The other part, if I’m honest with myself, held back because I was scared.

Failing when nobody knows about it is one thing, but failing in front of the whole world is another thing altogether.

I’ve heard from a lot of people that this is the wrong move for me and that I should stick to what I know.

Hell, my own mother told me God gave me this face to shine, not to hide.

But I’m so done being nothing more than a vessel for people to fawn and fight over.

After years of feeling empty inside, it’s time to start filling all the empty spaces with things I love, challenging myself to do things that scare me, and embracing the new reality and limitations I have for myself after the attack.

I’m tired of being told I need to get back on the horse.

What if I’m not interested in getting back on the horse, now or ever again?

Taking a deep breath, I pull my shoulders back and remind myself that I’m so much more than what the world thinks I am.

I shove the manuscript, my phone, and a few other essentials into my bag before heading to the door.

I stare down at the knob, willing myself to unlock it.

But it’s never that easy. With a frustrated sigh, I turn the handle, knowing it’s locked.

When it doesn’t open, I try it again and again.

Finally happy, I unlock it and repeat the process after I lock up.

I never used to be quite so…particular. But since the attack, my need for certain things to be done in certain ways has become more extreme.

My therapist says it’s a form of taking back my power after having it stripped from me.

I grab the strap of my bag and remind myself how far I’ve come.

When you haven’t quite reached your target, it’s easy to forget the journey you took to get this far.

I’m hard on myself because I remember those first few days when all I wanted to do was give up.

I remember rolling that bottle of pills backward and forward in the palm of my hand as they whispered to me promises of painless peace.

I don’t ever want to go back there. There have been times during my recovery that I felt myself slipping back into the darkness.

But I held on by the skin of my teeth until, eventually, I started to feel stronger.

And then I started to feel pissed. Once the pity party ended, the fuck you party began, where I wanted to prove all the naysayers wrong.

I wanted to prove to him that he had no hold on me anymore. I was free, and he wasn’t.

And then I found the smiley face drawn on the Post-it note stuck to my door. That’s how it started last time. The little Post-it notes, the smiley faces, little innocuous things that started as nothing but eventually left a weird feeling in my stomach.

I shake it off and head to the sitting room, which I rarely use, when I hear voices. I stop in the doorway. Aiden and two members of the Cox Security team, Matt and Daniel, talk animatedly.

“Everything okay?” I ask, not moving any farther into the room.

Daniel walks toward me, and it takes everything in me not to take a step back.

He stops a few feet in front of me before scowling at me, folding his arms over his chest. “I explained to Mr. Church here that you’ll need two of my team on you too if you’re leaving the property and a second team in a second vehicle. ”

I look at Aiden, who is staying quiet, but his hands fist at his sides.

“Mr. Church is in charge of my safety, so I’d like to hear what he has to say on the matter. I appreciate your concerns, but rolling in with a large entourage like that will draw attention, which I am trying to avoid.”

“All due respect, Miss Carson, you’re famous. People are going to notice you regardless. Might as well plan for that so we’re not caught by surprise.”

His patronizing tone has me gritting my teeth. I know he’s only trying to do his job, but he constantly dismisses everything I say.

I look at Aiden, pleading with him to have another option.

“We’re not going to call the media and announce we’re leaving.

Is there a risk she’ll get found out? Of course, but I’m confident I can get her to safety regardless.

However, if you want a car to tail us, fine.

But stay back so nobody associates your car with the one we’re in.

That way, you’re close by if we need you but far enough away that people won’t ask questions. ”

“I’m fine with that.”

Daniel looks like he’s sucking a lemon. “You are making it impossible for me to do my job effectively.”

I take a deep breath to stop from losing my cool. “If you’re unhappy with your role here, I’d be more than happy to terminate your contract, effective immediately. Just remember that your NDA remains in place regardless of your employment status.”

Silence falls over the living room. I see a smirk playing at the edges of Aiden’s mouth, but I keep my focus on Daniel until he finally backs down.

“That won’t be necessary,” he replies stiffly before stepping back. “I’ll arrange guards for the second car and brief them on what’s expected of them.”

I nod and watch as he walks away, Matt following after him with an awkward nod to me.

“Ma’am.”

I wait until they’re both gone before blowing out a relieved breath.

“They always like that?”

“Patronizing penis card carriers? Yeah. But if you think this is bad, you should come with me to a garage someday.”

He chuckles. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“Say nothing. Your species already aren’t doing you any favors.”

“Aren’t we the same species?” He grins.

“Not even fucking close.”

He full-on laughs at that, making me relax further. I don’t know how someone like him, who, in one minute, looks like he could snap me in half, can also make himself look so unthreatening. Either way, it’s a handy skill to have—boy next door to badass in seconds.

“Alright, now that the MIB has left?—”

It’s my turn to laugh now. “God, they do look like that, don’t they? I never asked them to wear uniforms. I just asked that they blend in.”

“You asked them to blend in, and that’s what they came up with? Do you dine with penguins often?”

I hold my sides as I laugh again at his ridiculousness. “Funnily enough, no.”

He moves his arm in a sweeping gesture toward the seating area, indicating that I should sit. A few of the nerves come back, but I fight them down as I move around him and sit in one of the chairs.

Instead of sitting on the sofa beside me, he sits on the coffee table right in front of me. I’m startled by how close he is, but before I can ask him to move back, he dives in.

“Okay, tell me what I’m dealing with.”

I grip the edge of the cushion as images from that night flash in my head. I remember the pain, the confusion, the screams. The smell is something that is permanently etched into my memory.

I don’t want to remember. I’ve spent years trying to forget and move on, and?—

A hand on my knee snaps me out of my spiraling thoughts. I suck in a shaky breath, first one and then another, as I focus on the man in front of me and his soulful worried eyes.

“You back with me, baby?” he murmurs, leaning closer. My heart thunders wildly, but the memories have no chance of pulling me back under when I’m faced with Aiden’s magnetic force.

“You’re touching me.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.” He pulls his hand away, but I grab it, surprising us both.

“No, it didn’t…I mean, it helped…I?—”

My mouth snaps closed, cutting off the gibberish I’m spouting, but Aiden takes the hint.

His warm hand slides over my knee and rests just above it.

The heat sears me through my jeans, giving me something to focus on and tethering me here.

I let my eyes drift closed, hoping it’s enough to stop me from falling back into the past.

Taking a chance, knowing it could make things worse, I slip my hand over his. “Don’t let go?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he answers immediately, and I believe him. I brace myself and start talking.

“It started with Post-it notes. I didn’t think anything of it at first. I figured it was one of the crew trying to cheer me up because the director I was working with at the time was known for being a tyrannical asshole.”

“What was on the Post-its?”

“Smiley faces. Always the same. The only difference was the color of the paper used. At first, I kept them. They made me smile, so why not?”

“But something changed?”

I nod. “After a while, the faces stopped, and a stupid joke would be on there. Something silly, like something you’d find in a kid’s joke book.

Once those ran their course, the compliments started.

Little things like, you look so pretty today, or you should smile more.

And I don’t know, I felt like it was crossing a line in my head that I just wasn’t comfortable with anymore. ”

“You knew, even if only unconsciously, that their behavior was escalating.”

“Perhaps. I still tried to shrug it off as an overreaction. I take every criticism given to me on board, but I’m awful at accepting compliments.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I think all women are like that.” He pauses for a moment, scrunching up his nose. “Well, most women.”

“I sense a story there.”

“One for later, maybe. What happened next?”

“I stopped collecting the notes.” I swallow.

“I figured that would be the end of it. Instead, the notes started taking on a more hostile vibe. Telling me I was being rude and ungrateful. I started ignoring them completely, and eventually, they stopped coming. I thought that was it. Then, things started going missing from my trailer, and my costumes were destroyed. It was still more an annoyance than anything else, at least to everyone else. But I was getting freaked out.”

“What did the studio do?”

“The hired security. Verified ID badges to keep everyone out except those who were supposed to be there.”

I tighten my grip on his hand and let him center me.

“We were shooting late. We’d been up since dawn, but it was coming to an end, and we didn’t want anything to throw us off schedule.

One of the stunt scenes I was originally supposed to be doing myself needed to be shot simultaneously with another scene I was doing, thanks to some last-minute issue, so my stunt double shot it.

The rig that suspended her off a bridge snapped, and she ended up in the hospital with two broken legs and a punctured lung.

“Did they shut the production down?”

I look up at him and shake my head. “They should have, would have under normal circumstances. But we didn’t get the news that they’d been in an incident until much later because they were filming off-site where cell reception was spotty.

We were wrapping up filming on our end. I had back-to-back scenes, then an hour break while they set up for the last shot.

I made the most of the break and napped.

I didn’t notice anything was wrong until I sat down in hair and makeup, and Amy, the stylist, made a choking sound. ”

I swallow, remembering the disbelief when she pointed to the mirror. “Someone had cut off my hair to my jaw while I’d been sleeping.”

“What the fuck?”

He leans closer, both hands on my legs now as they slide higher.

My breath hitches, but I push on. “It was a complete hack job. Thankfully, Amy was able to fix it up, but I felt so fucking violated. Someone had snuck into my trailer while I was sleeping and cut off my freaking hair, and I didn’t even stir.”

I reach up and swipe across my face, catching a stray tear that slips out.

“I just wanted the whole thing to be over. The director was pissed and ready to burn the whole studio down on my behalf. Eventually, we agreed the damage was done, and it was only hair. Amy found a wig for me, and as the final shot was done with me sitting on a motorcycle, we added a helmet. It’s one of those full-face ones that has a visor that opens. It was the director’s.”

I feel myself start to shake, which has Aiden cursing. He takes my hands in his and smooths his thumb down the back of them. “Take your time, Tilly. There’s no rush.”

Except there is. If I don’t get it out now, I’m not sure I ever will.

“One of the props failed. The helmet saved me.”