Chapter 9
STERLING
I’m taking my latest sculpture out of the oven, when I notice Beckett standing by the door.
“What’s happening, big guy?”
“The camera caught a car arriving at the rental,” he explains, and I smile. “The woman was waving at one of the security cameras.”
She’s here.
I head toward my bathroom and say, “Give me five minutes to shower and change.”
“Why don’t you let me handle this?” he argues—again. “She might know who you are and want something else. We’ve been through these same fucking situations multiple times.”
No, we haven’t done this in a long time.
Actually, every time I hook up with someone who fakes not knowing who I am things go fuck ways.
Juniper Spearman has no idea who I am, and she isn’t impressed by celebrities.
She’s related to Olympic medalist and X-game sensation Alex Spearman and has worked for several athletes and celebrities.
I know her brothers. She wouldn’t be like the others.
“She’s a professional, I can spend some time with her and not worry about some crazy woman parading at my house wearing a wedding dress like last time,” I assure him. “It’ll be fun, let me be, big guy.”
Fun isn’t exactly what I’m looking for. It’s more like her company and answers. I have to figure out what it is about June that keeps me awake at night drawing her and trying to remember every curve, scar, birthmark, and line of her body.
Her eyes are brown with golden flecks and I need to see them again to get them just right. Her hair and the way her locks spill on top of my pillow. What the fuck is wrong with me? I don’t think about women, in fact, I barely remember anything about them after we spend a night together.
With her … I can’t seem to get ahold of my fucking self.
Once I’m dressed, I run a hand through my damp hair and put on my parka, my hat, and gloves. As we step outside the studio, I say, “It’s late and I’m not sure if we’ll be able to help her with the furniture.”
“You know the rules,” he says, sternly.
“It’s fine, she doesn’t know who I am,” I say, brushing him away.
If I can help it, she’s staying with me tonight. We can either get a room or go to my house. We’re definitely reminiscing about what we did eight nights ago.
He sighs. “It’s fucking hard to keep you safe when you do shit like this. Hire a real management company to handle your properties.”
“Give me the keys,” he orders. “I’ll drop you and do it afterward.”
Jesus, I never liked when my parents controlled my whereabouts and yet, I have to deal with this shit every fucking day. Don’t get me wrong, Beck and his team are great but who likes to have a shadow all day long?
Their presence reminds me I’m lonely and that my life sucks.
“Nothing is going to happen to me,” I protest and jump inside the car. Before I close the door I say, “Drive.”
“If this becomes another shit show, I quit,” he warns me.
Which one is he talking about?
My life is a clusterfuck. Being famous isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. It was all fun and shit when I started. Now, it’s a fucking nightmare. I blame all the publications that set me on lists where I became a target.
Like the most influential people in the world. Most successful under forty. Also, I made it to some list called world’s wealthiest and most eligible bachelors and bachelorettes. I wasn’t some starving artist like the world imagined.
I am Sterling fucking Ahern.
Half owner of Ahern Enterprises. Beautiful women began to parade around the gallery. Thousands of emails and actual letters arrived daily. I’m not exaggerating, there were thousands of those fuckers at the post office waiting for me.
They forced me to buy another property where I could set up my studio.
My employees were being harassed too. I sigh, look out the window, and wonder when my life will go back to normal.
Hate used to be a strong word but now, I hate so many things and it’s so fucking hard to find joy in anything I do.
That’s why I have a security team. They stopped the insanity. It’s been a couple of years without incidents, thank fuck. The first scary stalker I had terrified the fuck out of me. It was an online threat. A guy wanted me dead because his girlfriend thought I was hotter and richer than him.
The second was a woman named Stephanie who would leave food, letters, mixed CDs, and her underwear at the gallery or my house.
There was Gladys, the woman who threatened to cut off my dick if I continued dating other women.
She broke into Mom’s house—thankfully, my mother was out of town when this happened.
Maggie, the one who brought a kid claiming all her four children were mine almost killed me for cheating on her.
The list is longer than I care for.
When I check my phone, I find a message from June. My blood goes cold when I hear her message. I try to call her back, but her voicemail picks up right away.
“Can you go faster?” I ask Beck. “She’s out in the cold.”
“Nope, there’s a storm. I’m going as fast as I can. Call 9-1-1,” he suggests. “Or wait for five minutes. It won’t take long.”
Exactly four minutes and twenty-seven seconds later—I was counting—the car comes to a complete stop. I look forward, looking at the rental. One of the properties I flipped a couple of years back when I thought real estate was fun.
“There’s a car in the driveway,” Beck announces. “And I think she’s by the door. You better hurry before she freezes.”
“June,” I call to her, but she doesn’t move. I squat and lift her chin. She’s shivering and looks sleepy. “It’s cold, why don’t we go inside.”
“It’s not cold,” she says with a shaky voice.
I look down to try to assess her. She’s shivering, arms crossed, and red nose. Her eyes are closed and there might be a tint of blue on her skin. I push the snow beside her with my foot and take a seat freezing my ass. “How long have you been waiting for me?”
“Forever,” she yawns, her head resting on my shoulder. Her low voice barely audible. “I was giving up … thought of you, you know. That it’d be nice if you came to rescue me. I forgot my keys in the car and locked it.”
Holy fuck, how long has she been here in the cold? I take off my coat, dust some of the snow accumulating on her head and back, and cover her with it.
“Hey, open your beautiful eyes,” I say, moving slightly so I can slide my arm under her legs before I pick her up from the floor. “Please don’t go to sleep.”
Her eyes flutter open. “But it’s nice when I dream of you. Five more minutes.”
I try not to freak out but fuck. Maybe I should take her to the hospital.
She sighs and there’s another big shiver. I pull her closer to me and she mumbles. “You smell good. Just like I remember. It’s funny, I was coming to fix my life and I might not make it. It’s sad because I don’t leave anything worth remembering.”
Oh, fuck, she’s delirious.
Beckett has the back seat door open and I slide us inside. I ask Beck to get her purse.
“The car is locked,” he informs me, “and too fucking cold to play MacGyver.”
“She’s freezing, maybe we should take her to the hospital,” I suggest.
He looks at her, takes her pulse, and shakes his head. Then, he walks to the trunk and brings a few blankets. “Take her shoes off, anything that’s wet and wrap her with these blankets. Make sure to keep her warm. Once we arrive at your house get her in bed and don’t leave her until she’s warm.”
When we arrive home, I follow Beck’s instructions. My favorite is skin to skin, that will warm her up faster.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
She looks at me as I’m undressing her. “What are you doing?”
“You were out in the cold long enough to get hypothermia, I’m trying to warm you up,” I explain, taking off my shirt and my pants.
“Where am I?”
“My apartment,” I answer.
“Wait, no, I was waiting for the asshole from the management company. He never arrived.”
I get into bed next to her and bring her closer to me. She’s so fucking cold, I swear I’m shivering just by touching her.
“Seriously, what are you doing?” she asks, getting closer to me.
I pull her even closer and begin to rub her arms and back with my hands. Jesus, what would’ve happened if I didn’t arrive on time? I want to kiss her though, I resist. This isn’t the time for that but … fuck, I have the urge to be inside her to make sure she’s with me.
Suddenly she’s crying and sobbing. I can’t make sense of what she’s saying. Something about not seeing her family again and how she has nothing.
“Then, I kept seeing these beautiful children. A little boy and two cute girls … they’re so real but so far away.”
“Hey, everything is fine,” I promise her. “You’re safe and I’m going to take care of you. Tomorrow, everything will look different.”