Page 23 of Carte

You don’t see me the way I see you

The words of her song were playing in my mind over and over.

The whole song was haunting, beautiful. It stirred something in me, something that I long before closed away and decided to ignore, but no matter how hard I tried, I could ignore the call of those words.

I knew she was a star in the making, one destined for greatness that would inspire awe in people, more than she was now, but these words, words on a piece of paper were something that was beyond the realm of pure beauty.

It was Harley in a pure form. She bared her soul on that paper, and now some sick fuck had it in his possession, in his mind. It beat through him with every heartbeat.

Just like it did though me.

“It’s time to call off the rest of the tour,” the words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

The room stilled.

I couldn’t look up from the back of that photocopy of her new song, a song she had written while I was lying on a couch in the next room, which was now facing down.

I was sure if I saw the reaction my words made, I would flip the table over or tore their heads off.

“Mr. Ryan,” that same man who spluttered his false concern for Harley started. “You know that can’t happen.”

As I predicted, a push back. They were not willing to make Harley safe if it meant losing money.

I looked up at him. The look on my face must’ve shown part of my thoughts on my face because the man gulped before he squared his shoulders.

“You were brought on with one goal in mind. For this tour to continue.” He jabbed a finger my way.

I knew that. When I was brought in, it was stressed, multiple times, that the tour needed to go as planned. I was brought on because of my ability to keep the high-profile people safe, and enable them to continue with their scheduled planes. I was good at that. My clients never even missed a step, while also had a thigh security around them that was noninvasive and didn’t trip them on each of their steps.

But this was different.

“No, I was brought with a goal to keep her safe,” I said slowly.

“Same thing,” he waved his hand and turned to Tim. “Talk me through the dates.”

“You don’t understand,” I said leaning his way over the conference table. “This is not some overzealous fan who got lucky and broke into the star’s room. This is more than stalking. He’s had her in her sights for a while now. And you all know it. He kept his distance, only invading her space when she was miles away. But now he’s here. He’s getting bolder. He’s escalating.”

“Well, you’ll protect her,” the man said like I was a dull bulb in the box and couldn’t comprehend a simple sentence.

“I can’t do that if you won’t end the tour,” I said, pinning him with my eyes. I wanted him to see the truth behind my words, and take them in without a shadow of a doubt. “This ends only one way. With her in a body bag. Unless we take the steps to ensure her safety. The tour needs to be canceled, and she needs to be moved to a secure location.”

“That’s just not possible,” Sloan, her PR specialist, spluttered.

“Have you read this,” I picked the paper up.

“Of course,” I could see them all practically drooling over the words on it. Words that had no meaning unless they were sung in Harley’s voice. Unless she was the one giving them to the world.

To me.

I quickly banished the thought that came out of nowhere.

“She wrote that at four am this morning,” I growled and slammed my palm and the paper against the wood of the table. “And less than twelve hours later, someone had access to it. That’s not only an invasion of privacy, and a breach of security. That’s someone sending a message and using her own words against her.”

“She’ll be fine,” Sloan pushed but I could see a slight tremor of her hands as she shuffled the papers in front of her.

“And everything needs to continue as planned. There’s a lot riding on this tour and her,” the man picked up his thread again.

Fuck me.