Chapter Four
Chapter Three
Stellan
After spending a week with my nana, I decided to give her a break. As much as she loves having me visit, the old woman loves her space. We’re one and the same. It was one thing when she had a husband, but now that my grandfather was gone, there was something she truly enjoyed about her solitude. I gave her a nice hug and took her rinsed-out gallon jug full of sweet tea with me as I checked into a bay side cabin. I planned to rent it out for a month.
When I checked in, I caught sight of the woman on the bike. She’d been in the back, but not once did she come out of the office. The only glimpse I got was the strands of her hair, and I wondered if my imagination was playing tricks on me. After all, I was thinking about her for the entire week. Everywhere I popped up, I swear I could have seen her, but only for a split second, and then she was gone. It was as if I just made her up in my head—a pure figment of my lonely mind.
“Mr. Barrymore, are you well?” the man at the front asks after watching my gaze. I wanted to deck him, but I had no right. Even though most of the acting was fake, my muscles and fighting skills were legitimate. I took several martial arts training programs to become proficient in them, and I boxed often to relieve the sexual tension in my body that I didn’t use.
I turn back to him, check his nametag, and then say, “Yes, Chet. I would like not to be disturbed unless I require something.”
“Yes, sir. No one will bother you.” I got the feeling this asshole didn’t like me as much as I didn’t like him. It was quite funny because he had no reason unless he was with the redhead in the back.
“Hey, Carrie. Georgia and I will be going out tonight. Mr. Barrymore will be in cabin one. He doesn’t want to be disturbed. Make sure that stays that way.” The fucking bastard. I hated him for sure. Suddenly, I imagined busting his head into the countertop.
“Yes, Mr. Whitaker.” He walks away, and the woman smiles at me. “Don’t mind him. He and his woman are probably going to be getting busy in the other cabin. Pays to own the cabins,” she adds. She tilts her head to the woman with the red curls who has fascinated me since she crossed my path, and I want to fucking break the damn counter.
“Just give me the damn keys and don’t spread gossip. It’s inappropriate at work.” She rolls her eyes and pops her gum before giving me the keys. I take them and leave the rental building before I lose my shit and storm into the office. Hell, I don’t have any right to say a damn thing to her.
With a huff, I slide on my shades and drive my Jaguar to the property. It’s the farthest cabin from the rental office and over a bridge away from the rest of the world, looking out over the bay. It’s perfect for my rest and relaxation. The only thing it needs is the sexy redhead to come to my side and tell me she’s ditched the loser. Fuck, I sound pathetic and just like my stalker. I’m fascinated by a woman I don’t even know and have only seen several times in passing.
Shaking all thoughts of her out of my head, I head into the spacious two-story cabin and am completely surprised at the luxuriousness of the place. Although it has a rustic feel, the furnishings are clean and new, the fireplace is gorgeous, and the space is open to a massive kitchen with ultramodern appliances that don’t take away from the beauty of the room.
After setting my bags down on the chair in the living room, I take my suitcase and head upstairs to the main bedroom that overlooks the bay. Living in Los Angeles, you’d think I was used to the beach, but unfortunately, I don’t have an oceanside view and rarely go, so this is a fantastic sight. Kicking off my shoes, I plop on the bed, lie back, and try to take a nap.
About twenty minutes later, sleep doesn’t seem to come, so I sit up and pull out my laptop, and my emails flood in. One by one, I noticed the names, but the first one shocked me.
Stellan, my love.
I saw you today, and you’re breaking my heart. How could you flirt with that woman while acting like I don’t mean anything to you? You know I exist, yet I am pushed aside. I can’t keep letting this happen. I won’t let this keep happening. This betrayal can’t stand.
My chest pounds out of control, racing faster than after I’ve finished an action shot. It’s so damn intense I can hardly catch my breath. This must end. Some crazy woman is fascinated with me because of my roles. Hell, I grew my hair out and changed my look a little over the past two months. The director almost made me cut it, but it was in a helmet for the entire shoot, so it was unnecessary.
That’s it. I’ve decided right here and now that my career is over. These fans are fucking bonkers. I called my assistant immediately. “Felicity, have you seen any deliveries or notes left at the house or studio?”
“No, actually. It’s strange. It’s almost like the stalker stopped her pursuit this past week. Please tell me she hasn’t found out where you are.”
“She has. What the fuck? How did she find me? I had my house, my phone, and my car searched for listening and tracking devices, cameras, and every other damn spyware that someone could get to me with.”
“Do you need me to come down there and hunt for her?” She sounds like she’s a hound dog or something.
“No, you’ll just be in danger if she thinks you’re in the way. She already thinks I was flirting with a woman when it was the exact opposite. I’d been rude to the woman.”
“Damn, well, I could keep looking into it. Did you see any woman that could be her?”
“I don’t know. I’m going to keep checking because there’s a beautiful redhead that I keep spotting everywhere I go, and she’s always out of sight when I go looking for her.” The line gets quiet, and I wonder if the call was cut off, so I look at my cell phone, but it’s still on, so I call out her name. “Felicity, are you still there?”
“Yes. I’m checking into the images we have. Just in case there’s a redhead in the footage from the places where your stalker sent you gifts. If she’s in the images, I can verify it and let you know.”
“I don’t have a photo of the hot redhead.”
There’s a heavy sigh before she says, “Well, I can look for the redheads and send you the stills of them. I’m not sure how many there are in the photos. Are you talking about dyed red or natural red?”
“It looks natural,” I answer. It looked natural, but I’m not an expert in women’s hair.
“I’ll just collect them all,” she sighs, not taking my word for it.
“Thanks, but you don’t have to.”
“If she’s aware you’re over there, you’re not safe. Did you call the police?” she asks.
“I’m a grown man, Felicity. I don’t want to bother them about this one woman unless she gets out of hand. Besides, it’s an extremely small town. There are two freaking deputies and a sheriff. I can’t bother them yet.”
“Understood, Stellan.”
“Thanks, Felicity.”
I ended the call and then thought about getting something to eat. Like a glutton for punishment, I get dressed and go out to main street to dine. I hoped no one recognized me and made a fuss. Even though my hair looked different, and I had shaved off my usual facial hair and put on a cap, I wondered if there were any eagle-eyed photogs nearby.
When I arrive at the nicest restaurant in town, that’s when I spot the jackass, Chet, from the rental place, and there she is, his girlfriend, Georgia. The redhead is sitting across from him. Her mouth opens as her eyes meet mine, but then she returns her attention to her date, who didn’t even notice the momentary gaze because he was playing on his phone.
“I’d like a table away from everyone,” I tell the hostess, removing my hat. Thankfully, there aren’t a lot of people here. Although most eyes are glued to me. Small towns are like that. I hear whispers. Some of them saw me in town as I shopped for my Nana, but we kept my visit quiet. I never want her to be the victim of my celebrity. If the press hound her, I’ll never forgive myself.
“Sure thing, handsome. Anyone else joining you?”
“No.” I sit by myself and then stare at my menu, but my appetite fades as I watch her with him on their date. He’s a prick.
Fuck, I thought she could be a stalker, but in reality, it’s me. She clearly didn’t follow me here. The beautiful woman I’ve spotted all over town has a man, a big, strong, handsome fuck who has his own successful business. There’s nothing that she’d need or want to chase me down for. “You know. I’ll just take my food to go.”
“We don’t normally do that, sir, but for you, we can make that exception.” She gives me a sympathetic smile, stealing a glance toward Georgia. Does she think I’m heartbroken? I’m not hurt. Annoyed? Yes. Heartbroken? Hell no.
It takes about fifteen minutes before my food is ready, and I do my best to keep my head straight forward and avoid stealing any glances at Georgia. When she hands me my food, I pay the check and then leave a large tip for their trouble. As I make my way toward the exit, I stare at her until she finally gives me what I want and turns her head my way. Her man doesn’t even notice our brief exchange because he hasn’t taken his eyes off his phone. If she were mine, my phone would be sitting in the bucket of ice, drowning in water, so we wouldn’t be disturbed.
On my way back to my cabin, I stopped by the local store and scooped up a bottle of Jameson Whiskey to go with my dinner. My delicious-smelling dinner never makes it into my stomach because the booze goes down a lot smoother. I go down harder, collapsing on the bed like a ton of bricks without slipping out of my clothes.
****
It’s three the next day when I finally crawl out of bed, head pounding and brain foggy as fuck. “What am I doing?” I grumbled, rubbing my crusty eyes. This isn’t the way I need to be acting. I’m twenty-nine, not fifty, and yes, the only woman I have an attraction to is taken, but I still need to get my head out of my ass. Stripping my clothes off, I head toward the shower, but then the doorbell to my cabin rings. It sounds like a damn bullhorn instead of the damn ding-dong like it should. I need some painkillers or something, but I really need is for whoever it is, is to get the fuck out of here.
“What the hell?” I stumbled toward the door.
“Hello, Mr. Barrymore,” a sweet voice calls out.
I whip open the door without giving it a second thought. “Whoa. Oh my God,” Georgia squeals, slapping her hands over her eyes. “Mr. Barrymore, I came to drop this off. It arrived for you this morning, but you didn’t answer your cabin phone line.” She turned her head, but all I could focus on was the ring on her finger. Was that an engagement ring?
“Sir, can you take this, or at least put some clothes on?” she stammers while scolding me. It’s only then that the breeze hits my free willy. The pain in my head subsides.
“Oh shit.” I drop back, snatch a nearby blanket, and wrap it around my waist. “Who sent it?” I ask, fighting off the growing wood. Damn, why does she turn me on so much? Even with my pounding head, the woman has got me stiff. I hate that she’s refusing to give me her eyes. They’re a pretty shade of greenish-brown eyes that are sparkling in the bright sunlight. They’re so perfect.
She attempts to hand over the bouquet of black roses while trying to keep her eyes averted. “I don’t know. I only just arrived at work after it came in, Mr. Barrymore.”
“Toss them in the trash.” There’s no reason for me to have them, and only one person who could have sent them.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, who the hell would want black roses?” Knowing they’re from my stalker infuriates me. If they weren’t from the crazy chick, I’d think they were cool.
“I think they’re pretty if you’re into dark colors. They have a hint of red and purple in them.” She shrugs her shoulders, biting down on her bottom lip, looking at the petals. “Still, I’ll toss them, Mr. Barrymore. Should we refuse any more deliveries for you?”
“I’d appreciate it if you found out who sent them first before refusing them,” I tell her, hoping they can find out who this bitch is that’s stalking me.
“Yes, sir.” She nods, getting ready to turn away, but for some reason, I just can’t let her do that.
“If you like them so much, you can keep them,” I offer, delaying her for a moment.
“Thank you, but I couldn’t,” she said, walking away and hopping into a nice dark blue SUV.
I watched her drive away, and then I closed the door before locking it. Dropping the blanket, I hop into the shower. The cold chills away the stiffened ache between my legs that throbbed the moment she called out my name. Suddenly, the hangover was back but a little less forceful than before. I needed some food in my stomach. Scrubbing the smell of booze off my body, I remember the dinner from last night. “Fuck.” I don’t think I put it in the fridge. It’s probably still on the counter, spoiling. I wash off and consider what I have stocked up in the pantry and fridge. At least I hit the store out of town two days ago.
I jump out of the shower and towel off, heading into the kitchen with a towel wrapped around my waist. The first thing I snag is an apple because I need something to hold me over while I dig into the fridge. Spotting my dinner from last night, I smile. It seems my drunk ass did put it away. The microwave dings just as my cell phone goes off in the living room.
Only a few people have this number. Could it be Georgia for some reason? I race to get it, but it’s just Felicity calling, which probably means she has the images for me. “Do you have the images?” I ask.
“Why are you out of breath?” she questions with a tone I don’t fucking care for.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I just rushed out of the shower when you called. Do you have the images?”
“Um…yes. I can send the pictures over to your phone.”
“Good. How many are there?”
“About three different redheads, but one appears in four different locations, so I’m guessing she’s our girl, or she just happens to live in the area near all the spots in L.A.”
“Okay. Send the pics through.” As I open the emailed images, my chest burns when I see her. She’s my damn stalker.
I add, “I’m going to miss your skills when I retire.”
“What?” Felicity screeches.
“Sorry, but I can’t deal with the fans anymore. I want to just give it up. I have enough money to live well for the rest of my life, but I refuse to be afraid of the next damn crazy person looking to be my lover, wife, baby mama. Whatever her goal is. Fuck, this woman could want me dead for all I know.”
“What about me?” What does she mean ‘about her’? Is she talking about her job?
I feel terrible about it all, but it’s not like this wouldn’t eventually end when my career did. “You will find another actor or actress. I can find someone who needs an amazing assistant. I’ll give you every recommendation in the world. You’ve been wonderful to me, but I can’t continue with this.”
“I can’t believe it. We just discussed this the other day, and you said I could stay on, and we have to finish the movie press.” Shit, I completely forgot about all of my other obligations.
I sigh, running my hands through my hair. My fork moves the pasta around, getting colder by the moment, my appetite having left again. “Yeah, but I’m not sure how long that will be either. I’m just giving you a chance to start looking before it’s too late. I’m not saying you have to stop working for me now, but I don’t want to leave you high and dry one day.”
“Oh, thanks,” she scoffs, hanging up on me. I’m sure if she’d been in the office, she’d have slammed down the receiver. Shit, I suppose I should have seen that coming. After ten years with me, I gave her the news over the phone. Man, I’m such a dick. However, the more I stare, the more my anger builds. She is so damn devious.
I toss the wasted food that’s now gone cold and just sit back and think about my plans .