Axel
A nita sent a car to pick them up at the airport; didn’t doubt she was making sure they didn’t “accidentally” miss their flight. He did his best to hide his irritation—they weren’t children to be wrangled—but he didn’t want an argument the very moment they stepped on Irish soil.
By the time they reached the front gate of the house, it was nearly two a.m.
“We’re home.” kissed Phoebe’s hair, and she yawned awake, having used his thigh as a pillow. He’d learnt she couldn’t sleep on planes, but the car was no problem.
“Did you get any sleep at all?” she asked, eyeing him sleepily. Her falling asleep on top of him was beginning to become a habit he thoroughly enjoyed.
“No, I couldn’t stop thinking about what we discussed at the beach, but I’m glad you got some sleep.”
“You make it easy, being such an excellent pillow,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder.
With the partition separating them from the driver, tipped her chin up, and he felt her breath catch as his lips brushed hers. He kissed her long and hard, his hands tangled in her hair, as they made the most of the time they had left.
He had never felt as vulnerable with anyone as he had that night on the balcony. Her comfort in that moment meant more to him than anything, and he hated the thought of having to hide their feelings now that they were home.
“What was that for?” she asked, running her thumb along his lower lip. He would never tire of her touches, or her lips. His fear was that he would crave her to the point of putting himself in an early grave.
“I won’t be able to kiss you like I want to once we get inside,” he whispered, while the driver removed their bags from the boot.
“I didn’t think about that,” she groaned, resting her forehead against his.
The driver opened the back door. “Sir, where would you like the bags?”
“Don’t worry about it, we’ll take them in,” said.
They were welcomed home by the echo of music blaring from the house. They’d been too lost in each other to notice the rager going on in their home.
“I’m going to kill Nick,” snarled, climbing out of the car. He helped Phoebe out after him and noticed her cringe at the sight of people staggering in and out of the house.
“Could’ve been August?” She tried to cover for her brother.
arched a brow. “August only attends parties held in his own home because there’s no escape.”
“You’re right, but they’re probably just blowing off some steam,” she reasoned, but he didn’t let go of her hand as they walked into the house. He didn’t care if anyone saw; with the threats against her, who knew who was lurking in their house or the grounds.
“What the hell happened here?” he grumbled, walking into the crowded house with Phoebe close at his back.
Music pounded against the walls, and every countertop was littered with bottles and cigarettes. No one even noticed them arrive, but as they walked through to the sitting room, Nick stumbled through the crowd towards them. could tell he was far past the stage of being reasoned with.
“Welcome home!” Nick grabbed and kissed his cheek. Phoebe chuckled at the sight, but he wasn’t amused.
“How could you throw a party? Did you not talk to Anita about the threats against Phoebe?” shrugged off his friend, only for him to wrap his sister in a hug, pulling them apart. Nick was too drunk to notice they were holding hands.
“Anita yapped on about you two heading off to Italy, I didn’t pay much attention to the rest. What harm is there in a little party? We’re alive, so we should celebrate. Well, I wanted to celebrate—August is sulking with some girl in the hot tub out back.” Nick swayed as he spoke.
glanced at Phoebe, who looked a nice mixture of annoyed and amused.
“Do you know half of these people?” she asked Nick, overwhelmed by the sea of unfamiliar faces.
“Why do you care? Neither of you were here.” Nick picked up an open bottle from the piano and slugged a stranger’s beer.
“That’s disgusting.” Phoebe wrestled the bottle from her brother. He soon gave up the fight.
She turned to . “You get everyone out of here, and I’ll get him to bed.”
“I don’t want to go to bed,” Nick groaned, wrapping his arm around his sister’s shoulder. “Come have a drink with me, and you can tell me all about your trip.”
“I’m afraid packing up the villa wasn’t all that exciting, and I think you’ve had enough to drink,” Phoebe said, while helped him up the step to the stairs so he wouldn’t trip and land flat on his pierced face.
“Party poopers! The night is only getting started!” Nick yelled, and everyone cheered.
didn’t even recognise half the people there. He guessed word had got out, and Nick wasn’t checking at the door. Neither was Olivier—Nick must have given him the night off to host this mess. It was probably Nick’s way of dealing with the stress, given the threats against his sister, but that didn’t stop it from being irresponsible.
“You can party all you want, but I brought you back a present from Italy,” Phoebe told him. “It’s upstairs with our bags.”
tried to hide his amused grin; Nick could never resist gifts. She didn’t need to tell him twice as he headed for the stairs.
“How could he be so careless, letting people come and go like this?” muttered to himself.
Someone tried to grind on him as he walked through the makeshift dance floor. He rolled his eyes and reached the speakers. His eardrums thanked him as he turned off the music.
“Party’s over.” shouted, standing on the expensive coffee table that was now stained and marked with burn marks. How could they have done so much damage in such a short amount of time?
There was a burst of boos and a few curses, but as soon as he turned on the lights, the protest dissipated as everyone started to leave. Seeing the mess left behind, and the red wine stains all over the cream couch, he ran his hands over his head. The cleaning lady came on Fridays, but he figured they could use a hand cleaning up. He texted her to see if she could come in early the following morning to help sort out the mess. He offered double her pay for the inconvenience.
With the inside guests filtering out, he just had to deal with those in the gardens. He slid open the patio door. The heaters were on, and the hot tub bubbled around the corner by the BBQ patio.
He found August in there with not one but two girls. He wasn’t paying them much attention, but it was clear they were happy to be sitting with him.
“Please tell me Nick locked Cillian’s door?” asked.
August ignored his question and grabbed a bottle of vodka from the side of the hot tub.
“You good?” prompted, wanting to make sure he wouldn’t drown if left unattended.
“Are you?” August asked coherently, taking a swig.
“Fair enough.”
was far more concerned about any curious eyes sneaking into Cillian’s room, or worse, taking some souvenirs for themselves or to make a quick buck off.
“Come and join us, there’s plenty of room,” the bleach blonde asked with a chemically induced pout.
“Another time, and I’m afraid the party’s over. Ladies, if you wouldn’t mind?” nodded to the door, but they snuggled closer to August. The more he drank, the less he minded physical contact.
“Don’t worry, they can stay with me,” August said, and the women giggled.
They were sober enough to make their own decisions, and had enough to deal with already. On the way upstairs, he texted Olivier to come over and secure the house and the grounds to make sure no one else was lingering. He guessed Olivier had already had his suspicions about what was going on, because a few seconds later he replied that he was on his way.
cursed when he saw Cillian’s door wide open. Two people were in Cill’s bed.
“Get out!” barked, and the couple startled.
He flicked on the lights and watched them scurry for their clothes before hurrying out. Luckily, had Cillian’s journal in the basement. If someone had got their hands on his personal thoughts, he didn’t even want to think what they would do.
locked the door behind him and reminded himself to yell at Nick tomorrow when he was hungover. Taking a deep breath, he walked down the hall to see how Phoebe was coping.
He found Nick with his head in the toilet while Phoebe sat on the bathtub rubbing his back.
“How’s he doing?” asked.
“I can tick seeing my brother’s stomach lining off my bucket list,” Phoebe said grimly.
“I’m sorry, guys. The house just got so damn quiet.” Nick’s words were muffled by the fact he was resting his face on the toilet seat. tried not to enjoy his misery.
Phoebe glared at , pleading with him to sympathise. He clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to yell or laugh. Given that he had been glued to Phoebe and that August wasn’t the most comforting person to lean on, leaving him might not have been the best move.
“It doesn’t matter now. Let’s get you to bed,” said, helping Nick up.
His friend groaned as he helped him to bed. Phoebe removed his shoes and covered him with a blanket. They left a bin by his head— not that it mattered, since they would have to get the carpets cleaned anyway. They closed the door quietly so Nick wouldn’t wake up.
lingered in the hallway. He knew he should go downstairs and clean up a little; his suppressed anger would make sleeping impossible.
“Nick passed out, and August is distracted. You could stay with me for a little while,” Phoebe hinted, backing up towards her own room.
Who am I to deny such an irresistible request?
“I should go downstairs,” said, but didn’t move.
“You should.” She closed the gap between them.
“I need to clean up, and make sure no one left anything burning.” He didn’t know if he was trying to convince himself or her.
“Sounds reasonable,” she replied, running her hands down his chest.
“Fuck it.” took her face in his hands and kicked her door closed behind them. She squealed, and he gripped her thighs, wrapping them around his waist.
She startled, clinging to him. “Someone could hear.”
“Like you said, Nick’s out cold and August is busy with his own guests,” he said, trailing kisses along her neck. He pressed her up against the door, only to feel something slick on the door.
“What is that?” she asked, pulling at her T-shirt as it clung to her back. He eased her down and saw his hands were covered in a red, sticky substance.
“Son of a bitch,” snapped, and pulled her behind him. He flicked on the lights, revealing what was dripping down the door.
“‘Leave, bitch.’” The words escaped Phoebe’s lips flatly, as though she were reading an item from a grocery list. “Hardly original.”
“Is it blood?” he asked, daring to say it aloud.
“No.” She observed the words closely. “Paint, I can smell it. Spray paint. It must be Sheen.”
“We’ve got cameras, we can see who came in here,” said, ready to catch this prick.
“There was probably a hundred people coming and going, and my door wasn’t locked.”
wondered how she could be so calm, if it was just the shock or, worse, she was getting used to the hateful comments.
“Oh crap! It’s all on my clothes. This is one of my favourite T-shirts,” she muttered, pulling at her top to see the spray paint splotches.
He was more worried about her than the clothes. He would buy her every T-shirt in the universe if he could get the person who was behind this to stop—if it was just one person.
He rubbed his hands over his jaw, trying not to overreact. Getting upset would only stress her out, and they had been home less than twelve hours.
“We should’ve put a stop to the hate months ago. The moment it was suggested that you were the driver, we should have protected you.” His stomach tightened. “We’ve failed you.”
Phoebe took his face in her hands, forcing him to look at those big eyes. “Please don’t talk like that. You didn’t fail me. If any of you had come out and refuted the video, it would’ve just sparked a debate. There is no winning, and you could never fail me. You’ve made the last few months tolerable and made me feel safe when I thought the world hated me. Even if it does hate me, I still have you.”
“Are you trying to flirt with me to stop me worrying about you?”
“I’m thinking if I bat my eyelashes long enough you might stop frowning. Or maybe you want to join me in the shower and help me wash off the paint?”
“As enticing as that sounds, I have to make a call. You hop in the shower, and I’ll be waiting when you come out,” he said. The sight of the blood-coloured paint covering her terrified him.
“To who?” she asked.
“Someone who can help us.” He didn’t want to wait until morning.
“It’s the middle of the night, and we aren’t going to solve who did this now.” She had a point, but they had waited long enough. He didn’t want to worry Autumn by disturbing her so late, but she’d understand his desperation.
“I can’t talk you into waiting, can I?” she asked, turning on the bathroom light.
“Afraid not.”
He took his phone from his back pocket. While he dialled, she grabbed some clothes.
She hesitated. “You won’t leave, right?” Fear tainted her soft voice.
“Not going anywhere,” he promised, sitting on the bed as she closed the bathroom door.
Elijah answered Autumn’s phone gruffly. “? It’s late, Autumn is asleep. Is everyone okay?”
“Sorry to disturb you both, but it’s you I wanted to speak to. I didn’t want to wake you up, but it’s urgent,” he said quickly.
He heard movement, and guessed Elijah was leaving the room.
“Go ahead, I’m awake now. Brinkley will want her morning walk now that I’m up.”
“I don’t know where to start, but you’ve seen all the harassment Phoebe’s been getting on the news? Autumn probably told you the situation.”
“Autumn has shown me some of it—she’s been worried about the two of you—but I’m not sure how I can help.”
“You had a friend help with Autumn’s case, right? With the stalker? Would he be able to help us figure out who’s targeting Phoebe, if it’s one person or more? We got back from Italy tonight, and Nick threw a party. Someone painted ‘leave bitch’ on the back of her bedroom door.”
Elijah let out a long sigh.
“Michael. He’s the detective that helped us, but he’s on holidays for the next couple of weeks with his husband. However, I can reach out to his old partner, Isaiah Rivers. He’s trustworthy and wouldn’t mind looking into your case off the books.”
wasn’t going to be picky.
“If you trust him, so can we. We were talking to two officers after the studio break-in, but then it was leaked to the press. I don’t want anything else getting leaked.”
Water was running in the bathroom. He walked to the door and heard faint sobs from within. His heart broke as Phoebe concealed her hurt.
“Isaiah is discreet. He wouldn’t share information with anyone unless necessary,” Elijah assured him.
“Thank you, and I’m sorry again for calling so late.”
“Don’t be, I know what you’re going through. You’re doing the right thing, reaching out,” Elijah said, but hated to have brought up memories of their own experience. “Call us if you need anything else.”
“I will. Hopefully all this will be over soon. I want to bury whoever is doing this alive.”
Elijah chuckled. “Call if you need help with the body.”
“I knew I liked you,” said, knowing he meant it.
“I’ve got to go before Brinkley wakes Autumn up. Tell Phoebe our thoughts are with her. We’re here if you need anything,” Elijah assured him again before hanging up.
couldn’t thank Elijah enough for his support of both Autumn and now Phoebe. Autumn had been harassed, threatened and deceived by someone close to her, and it terrified him to think that someone close to them could hurt Phoebe.
Elijah texted him Isaiah Rivers’ number, and he wanted to ring right away, but waking a stranger in the middle of the night and asking for favours might not be the best first impression. Before he did anything, he wanted to make sure Phoebe was alright with his plan first.
Phoebe came out in her lemon-print shorts and matching T-shirt, her eyes red from crying.
“You’re not staying in this room. You don’t have to stay in the basement, but you can pick any other room but this one,” he said, not wanting her to have to look at her door all night.
“The basement is perfect.” She didn’t argue, merely walked into his arms and rested her forehead against his chest.
Having her space violated like that, there was no way she was going to be able to sleep. Nor was he going to leave her alone for a second. He kissed the top of her head and grabbed her pillow before bringing her down to the basement. Once Phoebe was tucked up in his bed, he told her about Isaiah, and they agreed to seek out his help first thing.
In the morning, made sure Olivier kept all the camera footage from the last twenty-four hours and did a thorough sweep of the house for any cameras or listening devices that could have been installed. They hadn’t taken the threats seriously enough, and he was going to make sure no one got within five feet of her without being fully vetted.