Chapter 5
Olivia used her toes to flip the drain switch down and let some water out of the tub, not willing to stop the flow of hot water into the bath. The noise and sensation were soothing, and her soul needed soothing right now.
An acting teacher once told her it was normal to feel defeated and down after a comedic scene, and she wondered now if it was normal to feel sad and emotional after mind-blowing sex with the man she loved.
Probably not.
She wiped at her runny nose and leaned her head back against the porcelain. It wasn’t just the sex that had her head in a tizzy. She’d felt the hard square in Trevor’s pants pocket and would bet money there was an engagement ring inside.
She shouldn’t have been surprised. They’d talked about marriage plenty of times before. She’d even taken to calling him her fiancé before she’d come to France, and God knows she’d been happy about it.
She furrowed her brow. When had she stopped calling him that? She searched her memory for a single moment, a deliberate decision, but found nothing. There was only the sense that everything had been rushed and out of her control.
You never tried to control anything.
There hadn’t been any time between Marco and Trevor, no quiet space with herself to reflect on anything. So when she’d come to France and begun working on this movie, the contrast between the strong female lead and her own confused mind had been striking.
Marco had led their relationship. He was in charge, and she’d let him walk all over her.
Then Trevor came into her life and he was such a strong alpha man, he’d also taken the lead.
But now she wasn’t so sure she wanted to blindly follow what someone else said was right for their relationship, or for her.
She wanted more than that from Trevor.
I love him more than that.
Truth was, she’d been scared deep down that her changing feelings about her own place in this world would also change her relationship with him, but tonight had steadied her nerves.
What they shared was real and, as he’d gone to great lengths to show her tonight, very much within her control. She looked at her left hand, the empty ring finger no longer misshapen from Marco’s engagement ring. If only her heart were completely back to normal, as well.
She closed her eyes and sighed. Once she felt safe again, the rest of her life would fall back into place. She knew it would.
Every man she thought of from the movie was suddenly suspect, with no way to know which of them was actually a danger. There was Evan Lockheed, the director. Her co-star, Anthony Weir. Michael Roth, who played the Marquis de Sage. Her mind ran through another dozen names.
While Trevor had his sights set on finding the man responsible, she was far more realistic. The movie had two more weeks of filming and it was highly unlikely they’d catch him in that time.
What if you continue to get threats back home?
She couldn’t think about that right now, needing to believe it was related to the film, and the stalker would stay behind in France when she left.
She flipped the drain closed, her mind drifting to the movie and the scenes they’d be filming tomorrow. There were two of them, the first a hospital scene where her lover died, the second a shower scene where she broke down crying for him.
Her mind mixed the images of the shower scene from the movie and the stalker letter about washing her hair. One day you’ll wash your hair for me, naked in the shower, water dripping off your glorious breasts.
Her eyes opened wide.
She had a body double for the shower scene, since her contract specified no nudity.
Evan had been unhappy about that. He’d spoken to her when she first arrived in France, trying to convince her to no avail.
Suddenly she was reading the stalker’s letter as if he was lamenting she wouldn’t be the one in that shower.
One day you’ll wash your hair for me, naked in the shower…
She sat up abruptly, water sloshing from one end of the tub to the other. One day you’ll wash your hair for me…
For me.
Was it possible her stalker was talking about tomorrow’s scene, lamenting it wouldn’t actually be her?
She climbed out and wrapped herself in a towel, hastily turning on a light in the dark bedroom, lining up the stalker’s letters with trembling hands.
“Livy? What is it?” Trevor called from the bed.
“The shower scene in the movie calls for the actress to be naked, but I’m having a body double do it. The second letter could be about the shower scene.”
She heard him pulling on his jeans, and he came to stand beside her. “What about the others?”
“Should I cut you and make you bleed? There’s a scene near the end of the film where my husband cuts me with a knife.
And this one, I’ll hurt you until you say you’re mine forever, could be from the film, too.
She goes to the grave of her lover and says she’ll belong to him forever.
Trevor, whoever’s sending these letters has access to the script. ”
“How much does that narrow it down?”
“By more than half. Most of the staffers don’t need script access.”
“Call the director and have him note people who do on his list.”
An electric tingle shot up her spine. Was it possible evil was closer to her than anyone else on the movie? Anthony. Michael. Evan. “He wanted me to do the shower scene myself.”
“Who did?”
She swallowed. “The director. Evan Lockheed.”
“Then he might be our man.”
She nodded, nausea bubbling up the back of her throat. She remembered every time he’d put his hands on her to adjust her blocking, every stare across the room. She’d thought it was just a director being overly protective of his vision for the film, but it could have been more.
It could have been deadly.