She was ticked off. For several reasons. All of which revolved around a man. Her buried anger at Remo bubbled to the surface and she was having a hell of a time keeping it from erupting. She was still seriously pissed off at her father, but it paled in comparison. Which was stupid and made her angry at herself. Was it really only ten minutes ago that she'd wanted to strangle her father, and had retreated to the bathroom to keep from making a fool of herself in public? It was his fault she was so desperate for money she'd consider selling the story of Maximillian Chanteur's breakup to the highest bidder. But the fact she was more upset with Remo increased her fury at Remo. She hadn't seen him in over seven years. She shouldn't feel anything for him now, so in reality she had only herself to blame. Too bad feelings weren't dictated by logic.
Get a grip, Jordyn. Focus on something positive. She was riding in a limo with Maximillian Chanteur. She tore her eyes away from Remo's broad shoulders, which filled her vision and fueled her anger, and darted a glance at the celebrity sitting next to her, before looking at her clenched hands in her lap.
Just thinking about how close she was to the singing artist made her palms sweat and her stomach flip, as though she'd never been up close and personal with someone famous before. Her father was a screenwriter and all the famous names in Hollywood wanted to be cast in his films. Even tonight, one of them had come up to their table and asked him to put in a good word with the director about giving her the lead.
But this was Maximillian Chanteur. She'd been to every one of his concerts since she was a teenager. Okay, so she'd had a bit of a crush on him for a few years when she was younger. She was long past that. And she should be long past her crush on Remo too. The fact she wasn't made her squirm in her seat. But she wouldn't because... Maximillian Chanteur. Only a few feet away. She glanced at him again out of the corner of her eye. He was gazing out the window, his clenched hand resting on the seat between them. She stifled a longing to place her hand over his in a gesture of comfort. Something that took her by surprise. Rather than wanting to touch him out of a fangirl moment, she wanted to ease his pain. She stamped down those feelings. They stood in the way of her getting the money she desperately needed from selling his story. Could she really do it?
A fission of excitement ran down her spine as it hit her again. She was sitting next to Maximillian Chanteur, headed for his Malibu mansion. At least, she assumed that's where they were going. She bit her lip. Maybe she could figure out another way to get the money she needed. She really hated the idea of using him.
Stop it. She knew celebrities used situations just like this for publicity, to keep their name out there. And it was no secret this celebrity used the drama he created to his advantage. Though sitting next to him, being near him, she could appreciate a little better how that happened. There was such a presence about him. He seemed so much larger than life. Being in his orbit instantly stirred a person up, got the blood flowing. The man moved people. It's probably what made his concerts such a success. He brought a person's emotions to the surface and created an urge to act on them. Like for her, right now. She wanted to ease his pain. Nothing romantic about it.
Not like what Remo made her feel. Still. After all this time and all that water under the bridge. But she didn't dare go there. She had her immediate future to think about, and the path she wanted her life to take now.
"So, Max, any ideas what we should do with Jordyn?"
Max continued looking out the window and lifted a shoulder. "I really don't care, Remo. Do whatever you think best. Right now I wanna punch Adam's face in and howl at the moon."
"Understandable. But this situation needs to be dealt with. Unless you want me to drop her at her house and let her do whatever she wants with the information she has."
"Oh hell no. She stays with us. I suppose I need to call Stash."
"Hey! In case you've forgotten, I'm right here and I'm a person too. Not a situation that needs to be dealt with."
"Maybe you should've thought about that when you treated Max like a situation to be exploited."
Guilt flooded her and kept her silent. Remo always did have a way with making her stop in her tracks and see through the emotion that clouded her thinking. She stifled a sigh and turned to look out the window, deciding Max might be on to something there. Watching the lights of the city go by was rather hypnotizing and kept the problems at bay.
Maximillian Chanteur's deep voice grumbled into his phone, Remo interjecting a comment every now and then, and it all faded to background noise as she looked out the window. This was definitely a low point in her life. About as low as the day she went to school and discovered Remo was no longer enrolled there. When he'd promised her the night before he'd see her in the morning. She should hate him for disappearing on her like that. For a while she had. But now... Wow. She couldn't conjure up the anger she'd felt a few minutes ago. Maybe she'd latched onto it in an effort to help her deal with the crap life had just dumped on her. Maybe she was just tired, and after some rest, she'd get a better perspective on the situation.
She wondered if her parents were worried about her. Her mom might be, though it wasn't late enough yet for it to be a huge issue. They probably figured after she left the table upset, that she'd taken a cab home and they'd straighten everything out there. Although to her father, straighten out meant do things his way. He'd been none too happy when she told him tonight she was done doing things his way. It was her life and she had a right to live it the way she wanted. His dreams were not her dreams.
Dread and relief washed through her when they drove through the security gate and the limo stopped at the front door of a house Jordyn wished she could see in the light of day. The location of Maximillian Chanteur's mansion was a well-guarded secret, the gate and security officer that manned it helped keep it that way. It could very well be she'd never see it in the light of day. Never know exactly where it was. She hoped so. She wanted to go home and crash—. Damn it. Unless she did things her father's way, she couldn't go there for anything except packing her suitcase and retrieving whatever else was hers.
Her flight back to New York wasn't for another three days and it would cost money she could ill-afford to change it. If she paid for a hotel, it would cost her more than the price of changing the ticket. The exorbitant rent on her Manhattan apartment was paid through the end of the month, which left her three weeks to come up with the money to pay it when it was due. Or move. Which, in New York City still required a good chunk of money. Frustration had her opening her door with more force than was necessary, as well as closing it harder than she needed to.
"Upset, are we Jordyn?"
"Go to hell, Remo. You have no clue what I'm dealing with."
"I can make an educated guess."
"I suggest you don't. If you know what's good for you."
He laughed. Her anger never did seem to bother him. Sometimes it made her angrier and sometimes it made her feel better. Tonight she felt ambivalent. She had more important things to deal with than Remo. She shouldn't let him distract her from her real issues.
"Go inside with Max while I put the car away. Stash will be here soon so we can figure out how to clean up this mess."
"Thanks. Nothing like being a mess someone has to clean up. My father sees me the same way right now."
Remo let out a long-suffering sigh. "I didn't mean it like that, Jordyn. And it's not just you that has to be dealt with here. Go enjoy getting a look at Max's luxurious home. It's a privilege few people are allowed. I remember how gaga you were over him in high school."
True. And focusing on that was a lot easier than thinking about her future. Ten years ago, if she'd had a chance to enter this house, she'd have thought she'd died and gone to heaven. Of course, she would've made a fool of herself trying to get Max to notice her. Which, considering he'd said she wasn't his type, would've been an exercise in futility.
Focus on the positive, Jordyn. You've met Maximillian Chanteur and are at his house. It's the experience of a lifetime. Sadly, that probably wasn't a good thing. A memorable one, though, that's for sure.
* * * * *
He hated how good it felt to be around Jordyn again. She'd been his only light in a dark, dark world and it had killed him to leave L.A. like a thief in the night. He'd had no choice, of course. But that didn't ease the ache in his chest every time he thought about what it must've done to Jordyn. He didn't blame her for hating him, for the anger that flashed in her eyes every time she looked at him. An anger she didn't rain down on his head. Generally, she wasn't an angry person. Unlike him. Really, what did she have to be angry about? She had the perfect life. But she sure did have a short fuse and when something upset her, she'd explode before anyone knew what had happened. Which proved how much she'd matured since he left. Teenage Jordyn would've attacked him with her tongue the second she saw him and would've come at him like a wild animal to get her phone back. Tonight, for the most part, she'd kept it all under control.
But it did him no good to find more things to like about her. She was just as far out of his reach now as she had been in high school. The difference was, he no longer deluded himself he could have her. That reality had hit him in the face when he needed to leave town without a word. To keep her safe. To make sure she had no part in the mess he'd made. One only he could fix. One he'd had to fix, for his mother's sake.
He shook his head at himself as he made his way through the house to Max's office. He shouldn't be thinking about the past right now. Even if it was the thing that made him so good at his job. He was skilled at taking care of problems like the one Max had created tonight, and at getting physical when the situation called for it. Which made him more like his father than he'd ever feel comfortable with.
He crossed the threshold of Max's office and stopped in his tracks. Not because of the shelves on the wall opposite displaying several Grammy Awards, gold and platinum records, as well as a variety of other accolades. Not because of the black grand piano dominating the room, or the large antique maple desk filling up one end of the office, or even the large leather couches grouped at the opposite end that were big enough for him to stretch out on—something he wanted to do more than anything at the moment. Rather, it was the single occupant perched on the edge of one. Was Max seriously leaving him to deal with this alone? If so, there were going to be words.
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair before making his way over to sit on the couch opposite her. Not the first time he'd had to deal with a situation by himself and he should've expected Max would leave him to it. It didn't help that Stash had told him what needed to be done and didn't feel it was necessary to drop everything and come over. At least, not unless Jordyn was more than Remo could handle. Which, of course, she wasn't. He hoped.
He leaned back in the seat and laced his fingers behind his head. "Hello Jordyn. Fancy meeting you here."
She raised a brow, crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat. His lips twitched and he let himself give her a small smile.
"I should be the one saying that, Remo. You vanish from L.A. in the dark of night and I thought for sure I'd never see you again. Yet, here we are."
"Yes, here we are."
She didn't speak for a few moments, hoping he'd address the issue of his disappearance, no doubt. Not the time or the place for that discussion.
"You're not going to tell me anything, are you? Just like when you left. Still don't think you owe me an explanation." Tossing her head to get a lock of hair off her face she muttered, "Connard."
"I haven't forgotten the French swear words you learned from your father and taught me. Although I was an asshole, now is not the time for delving into the past, Jordy—"
"You've got some nerve calling me that. Don't do it again. My name is Jordyn. Ms. Souliere suits me even better."
"Fine. Ms. Souliere then."
Probably a good idea anyway. It would help him stay in the here and now. Help him treat her like the stranger she was. Seven years was a long time and the truth was, they didn't know each other anymore. They'd been kids when they spent all their free time together. Now they were adults, grown up, with years of living in the real world behind them. Actually, for him, there were times when it felt like decades.
"So, how long before I get my phone back and can leave?"
"If you let me erase all the photos, you can have your phone back now. Did you need to call someone and let them know you're okay?"
She started tapping her foot, looked down at it for a moment before returning her attention to him. Interesting. She wasn't sure how to answer his straightforward question.
"What? You live alone so no one is expecting you, and you don't want me to know that so you can get out of here quicker?"
She shook her head, a strand of hair falling across her brow with the motion and he tightened his fingers around each other before unlacing them and dropping his arms. He shifted in his seat to bring up a leg and rest an ankle on his knee. She blew the hair out of her face and his gut clenched as memories flooded in. She always did that when she was concentrating. His reaction to it hadn't changed. Get your head out of the past Vashenko. Focus.
"It's complicated."
"It's a yes or no question."
She sighed. "Are you going to hold me hostage until news of Maximillian Chanteur's broken engagement gets out? That hardly seems fair. It's bound to get out, so why can't I be the one to spread the news?"
Was she really such a polar opposite now from the girl he'd loved? Exploiting someone for personal gain wasn't something the Jordyn from high school would do. She'd stood up for him then. Made him feel like he wasn't so alone. Like he wasn't some sort of freak. Though a poor kid at a Beverly Hills private high school actually was. He'd been so out of his depth he thought he was going to drown, and wanted out before it killed him. Then she'd come along and made it all worthwhile. Until the night everything changed.
"So I take it you don't need to call anyone and you won't erase the pictures. I must say, Jordyn, I'm shocked you've grown up to be one of the paparazzi. Did Julliard fall through?"