Chapter 14
ROBYN
The first thing I should have done was check in on Mac.
Instead, I told the security guy, Pete, who’d let me onto the estate the next morning, that I wanted to use the gym. Pete, whose British accent I couldn’t quite place, had clearly been told I had the run of the estate because he offered no objection to me driving my SUV to the gym.
It still seemed ludicrous that someone would be willing to spend what was a year’s annual salary in joining fees, just to say they were a member of some elite club in the Scottish Highlands.
Lucy had seen the look on my face and admonished me.
“You don’t know what it’s like being hounded constantly.
To never have privacy. To always feel on display.
Ardnoch offers a break from that, where we get to hang out with people who understand.
And make no mistake, it’s also the place where business is done, where movies and television shows get green-lighted and actors get a chance at the roles of a lifetime.
For those of us who have it, that ￡35K and the annual fee is a drop in the ocean for what it provides us over the long term.
The waiting list to get into Ardnoch is in the thousands.
And while many of those people do just want in so they can say they’re a member, a lot of us are here because it makes us happy, and it’s a sound business decision. ”
“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I didn’t mean to judge.”
Lucy shrugged. “It’s hard for outsiders to understand.”
Outsider.
Lucy hadn’t meant any harm in using the word; in fact, she’d been nothing but sweet to me yesterday, escorting me around the village after my panic attack.
We visited boutiques I hadn’t had time to go into yet and introduced me to the owners who all seemed to be on a first-name basis with her.
Janet from the tourist shop sold a weird mix of what Lucy called “tat”—cheap “Scottish”-related items, such as mugs, key rings, scarves, hats, magnets, shortbread, and this amazing sugary treat called tablet—and more expensive and exclusive items, like whisky locked in a glass cabinet and handcrafted jewelry.
We also visited the affable and funny Moira Siddiqui and her husband Suveer, confectioners and owners of Moira’s Chocolate Box.
And their chocolates were amazing! I bought a box for Mac and a box for myself and cursed Lucy for bringing me into the store because I was pretty sure I was addicted to the expensive treats.
Then we’d had lunch at a café tucked down one of the side streets and chatted for hours.
She hadn’t pushed about what had spurred on the attack.
But that word … outsider … I guess that’s what caused it.
Lachlan had called me an outsider, but watching Mac with Thane’s kids, with them all, had shown me that’s exactly what I was. And it reduced me to an insecure, unwanted teen. It chafed to have anyone make me feel that way again.
The fact that I’d embarrassed myself in front the Adairs was icing on the cake of mortifying myself in front of Mac.
There was no way he wouldn’t want to know what had prompted my melodramatic departure, and as it turned out, I still wasn’t ready to confront him.
I avoided him instead. It was so unlike me, and my failure grated.
I’d promised Lucy I’d be on the estate for our session with Eredine, but I showed up a little early because I’d remembered the boxing bags in the gym. Nothing sounded better than punching and kicking that bag as an outlet for the emotions I didn’t know how to deal with.
When I arrived at the gym, it was still early, and I wasn’t surprised to find there was only one other person there, a guy I couldn’t quite make out was on a bench press at the back of the large, well-equipped room.
There were no trainers around. Lucy said members had to book appointments in advance if they wanted to meet with a trainer since they didn’t work only on the estate. They had other clients elsewhere too.
I zeroed in on the boxing bags on the opposite side of the room and put my back to my sole companion.
Boxing gloves hung on a nearby hook, but I didn’t need them.
Instead I warmed up with some stretches and then grabbed the fingerless gel gloves I’d ordered, express delivery, after I’d seen the boxing equipment during my estate tour.
Gordon said I could have anything I needed delivered to the Gloaming, so I’d collected the gloves last evening.
Perfect timing.
I strapped them on and moved into position.
Then I ripped into it.
The bag moved but only in increments—my punches came so fast, they contained it in a tight sway between each jab.
Then I stepped back and did several sidekicks, pivoting my right hip and knee into the movement with full force.
The bag swung with a satisfying drag on the chain holding it to the ceiling, and I had to reposition after each blow.
I kicked with alternating legs, but the power in my right leg was far superior.
When I kicked with the right, the bag yanked against the chain with harder satisfaction.
I imagined the bag was the fucker who knifed Mac.
Then I remembered yesterday.
The embarrassment of it.
Everyone knew I was messed up. They also probably were smart enough to guess it was because of Mac.
Mac.
“Hey, wee birdie.”
“Right here, Bonny Blue.”
“Uncle Mac, how did you get hurt?”
“Well, it was a wee fairy, you see …”
“Dad, tell me a story about the fairies!”
“Another one, wee birdie? All right, let me see … did I tell you the one about the faerie queen and the moment she heard a song by a musical wizard called David Bowie?”
“No, tell me that one, tell that one.”
My own memories mingled with yesterday’s scene with the Adair children and were a burn in my throat. I wanted them gone. I wanted this ridiculous childish hold on the past gone!
THUMP, THUMP, THUMP!
I launched it all into the bag with my fists until my body was damp, my hair sticking wherever it touched skin.
Sweat trickled down my bare stomach and my biceps burned; my hands throbbed, and it propelled me.
Stepping back, I spun and landed a rear hook kick on the bag, sending it rattling on its chain again.
Breathing heavily, I rested my hands on my hips and stared unseeing at the bag as I tried to catch my breath.
“I could watch you do that all day.”
I jolted at the American-accented voice, having completely forgotten I wasn’t alone.
Glancing over my shoulder, I started.
Sebastian Stone stood a few feet from me, wearing nothing but a pair of track pants. His T-shirt was tucked into the back of the pants so I could see every muscle of his slender but tightly ripped physique.
His words and the obvious come-on in his eyes annoyed the shit out of me. I hoped I was reading him wrong. “Excuse me?”
Stone took a couple more steps toward me so I faced him.
He gave me what many women would consider a sexy-ass smirk as he lowered his eyes down my body and back up again.
I wished I weren’t wearing only a sports bra with my yoga pants.
“You. Pounding the hell out of that boxing bag. You’ve got a lot of fight in you.
” He dragged his teeth over his bottom lip as his gaze zeroed in on my breasts. “An excess of energy.”
Yeah, I definitely wasn’t reading him wrong.
Feeling my skin crawl, I crossed my arms over my chest and radiated “back off” vibes. “Can I help you with something?”
He didn’t read me. Instead he stepped into my personal space so I had to tilt my head back to hold his gaze. “You must be the guest of a member.”
I looked over his shoulder to check the room.
We were still alone.
But my eyes snagged on the security cameras in the corner near the ceiling.
That made me relax slightly.
“Guest of the owner, then?” Sebastian reached out to tuck a loose strand behind my ear, and my arm snapped up, batting him away. His expression darkened even as he maintained that stupid smirk. “I’m just being friendly. You do know who I am, right?”
The urge to snort was real.
He was one of those. And he was seriously ruining his movies for me. He was so likable in them. Now he just came across as sleazy and like his fame entitled him to be in a stranger’s personal space without permission. “Sebastian Stone. Could you step back, please?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have to be intimidated by me. Are you an aspiring actress?”
“I’m not intimidated, and no.” I motioned for him to move back.
To my growing disquiet, he took another step toward me, forcing me to retreat.
Shit.
“Really?” He contemplated me, a hard edge in his eyes. “You have the energy for acting. You’ve got something about you. I’ve seen you around the estate but didn’t know quite who you belonged to.”
“I belong to me.” Asshole.
“Right. All women say that, but the truth is, you want to belong to a man. It turns you on to be owned.”
“You did not just say that.”
He grinned like a shark. “Protest. They all do. But I know the truth.” He studied me with hot eyes.
“You’re very sexy in a Lara Croft, Black Widow kinda way.
Great mouth. Eyes. Tits are good too. Your nose is a little long but a nose job can fix that.
” The urge to smash his face in grew as he leaned in to whisper in my ear, “I have a lot of influence in the world, and I’m very happy to help out my friends.
” That’s when I felt his tongue touch my neck.
I pushed him off, but he was solid and barely moved. “Back off,” I warned.
His eyes flashed in disbelief, and suddenly I was pressed to the gym wall and had an angry, petulant, miscreant of an actor flush against me, caging me in. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“Someone who is about to do permanent damage to your dick if you don’t get the hell away from me.”
Stone laughed, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You don’t get it.” He was almost whispering. “In my world, if I see something I like, I take it. And there’s not a lot you can do about it.”