Chapter Twenty-Eight
ASHER
“Asher, you have got to calm down.”
I turn to glare at my mother, who’s looking out the window at the gloomy night sky. Aside from a few stray hairs, you would never know the stressful week she’s endured. Her wool pencil skirt and silk blouse look impeccable, even at this late hour. Even her lipstick is flawless.
I, on the other hand, can barely hold my teacup without trembling and don’t remember the last time I slept. I just lie awake in bed, staring at her, wondering when this unknown person will follow through on their threats and take her from me.
You always knew something like this would happen.
“How the fuck am I supposed to calm down when it’s been a whole damn week and we don’t have any leads?”
We have more texts, though.
More taunts. More threats. All coming from different, untraceable numbers.
But not a single fucking lead.
“You know the security team is working on it,” Mac assures me. “They’ve even brought in law enforcement, but with your background in Hollywood…”
I nod. “I know, it could be anyone.”
One of the first things Lewis, the head of security, asked me to do was make a list of potential suspects. But how do you narrow down a decade’s worth of stalkers and overzealous fans?
I wrote down every name I could think of, from the woman who broke into my house and handcuffed herself to my bed to the guy who sent me actual teeth because he thought it would bring me good luck.
My former agent was high on the list, as was Mitch and a number of other overzealous people I’d worked with over the years.
But then there were the ones I’d wronged. Some I could name. Women like Lana, who believed we were more and walked away brokenhearted. But others were harder to identify. As Mac reminded me, with my level of fame, it could be anyone.
I lean back in my chair, exhausted.
I’ve never felt so helpless in my whole damn life.
“Right now, we’ve done everything we can,” my mum reiterates. “We’ve canceled your joint appearances. No one will suspect anything is amiss since your father’s illness was announced a few days ago.
“I’m not sure that was the best timing,” I mutter, immediately regretting my insincere comment.
“You know it couldn’t be helped.”
“I know.” I nod, hating that my mother has to worry about all of this while my father is slowly dying a few doors down the hall. The infection he had was worse than we thought, and he’s been bedridden ever since. The doctors say it’s just a matter of time. “I’m sorry.”
There was a time when I thought my mom wouldn’t lift a finger for me, and now, in just a week, she’s practically turned Blackstone House into a fortress—more than before—as we try to find this stalker.
I’m not sure if I will ever forgive her for the past, but seeing her go to such lengths this week for her family gives me hope that we can work toward some future together as mother and son.
Rather than mother and heir.
“Have you told her?” Mac asks gently.
I shake my head.
My mom leans forward and, in a surprising turn, takes my hand in hers. My eyes quickly flick up to her. “You need to talk to her,” she stresses. “You can’t keep all this inside.”
“And she deserves to know,” Mac adds.
“Are you sure it wouldn’t be better to send her back to the States?” I ask. It’s a thought I’ve had on and off all week. Maybe if I can get her as far away from me as possible, she’ll be safe.
“You know what Lewis said. This is the safest place for her—for both of you, especially with the ongoing media coverage regarding your father,” Mac reminds me.
“I know you’re trying to do the right thing, but sending her away doesn’t solve anything,” my mother says.
“I’m just so scared,” I admit, despising myself for feeling this way. It makes me feel weak and inadequate. I’m sure that when the heroine in Mercury’s romance novels is in danger, the hero steps up and saves the day effortlessly.
But I’m not a hero in a novel, and this situation we’re facing is frighteningly real.
The whole world feels like a suspect, and apart from the two people in this room and a few others back in LA, I don’t trust anyone.
“I can’t lose her.” My voice cracks as emotions break through.
“You won’t,” she soothes, her voice soft and unlike anything I’m used to. It almost hurts to realize it can sound like this because now I see what I missed out on during my childhood years.
But I’m also grateful to the woman who entered my life and helped break down some of the barriers between us.
“Thank you, Mum. I truly appreciate everything you’ve done to protect Mercury and me.”
She seems surprised by my words and shifts slightly, as if she’s struggling with an uncomfortable emotion. “You’re welcome,” she finally says. “It’s what I should have done all along.”
Mac receives a text on his phone, and every nerve in my body tightens. He looks down and then locks eyes with me. “It’s from Lewis. He might have a lead on your former agent.”
“Really?” I nearly bolt upright.
My mum gently pulls me back down. “He’s going to head to the local police station in the morning to meet with the detective inspector.”
“So we won’t know anything until tomorrow?”
My mum squeezes my hand this time. “It is ten at night, darling.”
“Right.” I nod, feeling slightly delirious. I’m so damn tired. “Of course.”
“Go spend some time with Mercury,” my mum encourages. “Talk to her. And for god’s sake, get some rest.”
“All right,” I agree, feeling slightly better. But as I say good night and head for our suite, it all vanishes the moment I step inside and find a pile of suitcases by the door.
MERCURY
“What the fuck is this?” Asher’s eyes look wild as he takes in the pile of suitcases by the door and then lifts his gaze to meet mine.
The cuffs of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows, and he looks dead on his feet.
But his whole demeanor shifts the moment he sees my damp cheeks.
His gaze darts around the room as if he’s searching for danger.
“Have you been crying? Did something happen?”
I wipe my tear-stained face, trying to regain some composure, which is pointless because I lost it hours ago. “Nothing has happened. I just want to go home.”
He visibly flinches. “Why?”
“Why?” A pained laugh escapes my throat. I watch him stare blankly at my suitcases. He hasn’t taken a single step further into the room. “Asher, we’ve barely spoken in a week. Do you really need to ask me why?”
He runs a hand through his messy dark hair. “I’ve just had a lot going on.”
“We always have a lot going on,” I argue. “The number of events and scheduled appearances we do is actually insane. But we’ve always managed to juggle it. We’ve always made time for each other. Until now.”
He finally tears his eyes away from the luggage to look at me from across the room. “So one bad week and you were just going to leave? Without even talking to me about it first?” His words are harsh, but his voice lacks the conviction to back them up.
He sounds so damn tired.
“I’ve tried to talk to you, but you shut me out.
I came to Scotland to make sure you were okay.
I wanted you to know you weren’t alone, and for a while, I thought I was actually helping.
I thought, together, we might have a chance.
” I take a steadying breath, my emotions getting the better of me.
“But I refuse to stay and be someone who causes you harm. You’ve had enough scandal in your life. ”
“Scandal? What are you talking about?”
“Isobel told me about all the bad press,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. I can already feel the tears rising as every word she said floods back to me.
Forgettable.
Unimpressive.
Boring.
“What bad press?”
I stare at him, trying to tell if he’s pretending to be clueless or really doesn’t understand what I’m saying. “The interview with my sorority sister. The rumors that we’re faking it. All the stupid bets the fans are making about when you’ll eventually tire of me.”
“Fucking Isobel,” he curses under his breath.
Even as she kept going on and on, giving details I knew she couldn’t have made up, I had hoped she might be lying. “So it’s true, then?”
“There was some chatter after LuAnn did the interview with Celebrity Insider, especially since she lied and said the two of you were practically BFFs and she’d never heard you mention me before.”
I don’t know what is crazier—Asher using the term BFF or the fact that LuAnn Miller would actually pretend to be my best friend just for fifteen minutes of fame.
“And the rest of it?” I ask. “Do they really all hate me?”
“What?” His expression softens as he takes a step forward. “No, love. No one hates you.”
“But Isobel said—”
“Isobel’s family is penniless, and her parents are pressuring her to land a rich husband and pay off their debts. She’ll probably say and do anything to get you out of the way.”
My mouth gapes open. “You think she’s still making a play for you?”
“Until tonight, I hadn’t. But when security ran a background check, and I saw her family’s financials—”
A memory of Isobel complaining about all the security protocols she had to go through to get into Blackstone flashes through my mind. “You did a background check on her?”
“Yes.”
“Is that typical?”
He looks away. “No.”
“Ash, what aren’t you telling me?” When he turns back around, his face is full of silent torment. “What could be so bad that you’d rather see me walk out the door than simply talk to me?”
His Adam’s apple bobs as his attention turns back toward the suitcases by the door. “What if I tell you and it scares you away even more?”
I take a step toward him, then another, until we’re standing face-to-face. “We’re in this together, remember? Whatever happens, we can handle it.”
“I can’t lose you,” he says, his voice breaking as he finally closes the gap between us and pulls me into his arms.