He’d sent flowers and a note, too. And like Phoebe, my mom had ripped the bouquet to pieces before stomping on it. He’d hurt her too many times for her to be taken in by sweet words and even sweeter blooms.
We’re both deep in our thoughts when there’s a knock at the door, although I’m not startled as Phoebe is. “Relax, it’s just Room Service.” I’m on my feet and opening the door soon after.
Sure enough, one of the staff stands next to a cart, and following a nod from me, wheels it into the room. Rather than get them to stay and pour the coffee, I send them on their way. I’m not so useless that I can’t take care of this small task.
What I can’t handle is Phoebe’s reaction when she lifts the cloche covering the pastries. On spying the card and single rose sitting atop them, I’m as dumbstruck.
“How in the hell…?”
PHOEBE
I drop the stainless dome, not caring if I smash the plate. I don’t want to read Ralph’s note, to hear what he has planned for ‘us’. Wyatt has other ideas, reaching out and removing the cover, but only as long as it takes to retrieve the note.
Despite my distress, I can’t help but notice he’s only holding the very corner of the embossed card. His reaction when he reads it has me curious.
Do I want to know what’s in it, or not?
I don’t get a chance, with him wrapping the note in a napkin off the tray. He then slides it into the pocket of his suit jacket.
Curiosity finally gets the better of me. “What… What did it say?”
Wyatt frowns briefly before answering, although not with what was on the note. “No specifics. Not enough to interest the cops, that’s for damned sure.”
He falls silent, staring at the ceiling just above my head, deep in thought. He can think all he likes, but I’m not hanging around to see what he comes up with.
“I’m out of here. At least in LA, the doormen at my building can stop him from getting to me.” And it’s true. There’s even a standing order that all the flowers and candies he sends me are to be forwarded to a local hospice.
It’s a head-in-the-sand approach for sure, but it’s better for my peace of mind and ability to actually sleep at night.
“You’re right. You’re out of here. Finish packing!”
Coming from a man who only minutes earlier was offering to help me, this comes as a surprise, although not totally. Once I leave the hotel, I’ll no longer be his problem and he can get on with his life.
It won’t be that easy for me. I’ve just locked my suitcase when I have a moment’s clarity. “Oh blast it, I can’t leave.”
Wyatt, busy checking something on his phone, looks up in confusion. “Why not?”
“I’ve got another shoot tomorrow, pool-side. It’s actually the main reason I’m here.”
And not just any shoot. My agent says if it goes well, it could see me breaking into mainstream modeling. And that’s a BIG deal for a curvy girl.
Then reality comes crashing down and I sink onto the bed next to my suitcase. Much as tomorrow’s shoot is the break I’ve been working toward, I can’t stay. Not with Ralph nearby, and promising who knew what.
This has me thinking of other upcoming bookings. With Ralph able to track me no matter what precautions I take, I don’t see an alternative.
I’ll have to cancel everything.
Six months should be long enough for him to get bored and move on. Unfortunately, it will also be long enough to kill my career. Conversely, I won’t have a career if he’s got me locked away somewhere as he’s promised of late.
“This is so unfair. Why the heck did he have to pick me?”
I’m not expecting answers from Wyatt, nor do I get any.
Instead, he crouches down in front of me, waiting until I look at him properly before speaking.
“Do you trust me?”
It’s such a simple question, and yet complex all the same. I don’t answer immediately, instead thinking back on the glowing reference the hotel manager had given him. There’s also my gut instinct that I can indeed trust this guy, certainly more than I trust Ralph, a lot more.
