Intrigued By You, page 21
Once we were out of sight and earshot, both my brothers hugged me, and then Sam did, too.
“Superstar,” London said.
“Proud of you, sis,” Roman added. “If you need anything else, you let us know.”
I refused an invite to a family dinner, citing exhaustion and an oncoming headache. Neither were true, but I craved space and time to process the last couple of days.
The city lights blurred past the car window, a vibrant carousel of color. My body ached for rest, but there would be no rest for me. Not until I’d found the person who had sent Joz spiraling into a fight for his life and served up my own special brand of justice.
Chapter 28
Aspen
The truth always comes out in the end.
I might’ve faked a headache to cry off dinner last night, but the pounding head I woke up with this morning felt very real. Served me right for lying to my family. Although spending the night on my own had allowed me to start to process everything that had happened since landing in New York on Saturday.
To go from the pure bliss of a week in the wilderness and declarations of love, to Joz overdosing and having to deal with a press hungry for details was a lot to manage, even for me. I felt as though I’d been tossed into a washing machine with the spin cycle on supersonic. My body had the metaphorical aches and bruises as a consequence.
I missed Joz.
I’d reached for him several times in the night, except there’d been no warm body for me to snuggle against, only a cold mattress and an aching heart.
Although it tasted like cardboard, I forced myself to eat a piece of toast, and I downed two cups of coffee. Once I’d bundled up in a coat, hat, and dark glasses, I left my apartment to go for a walk. The press conference I held yesterday must’ve satisfied the greedy hordes for a little while because there were no journalists or photographers waiting for me when I exited my building.
The air was crisp, the sky above a startling blue that lifted my mood. I set off for Central Park, pausing at a street vendor to buy a hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and sprinkles. Decadent for eight-thirty on a Wednesday morning, maybe, but I needed the pick-me-up. I messaged my assistant to let her know where I was and to call me if anything came up that needed my attention, but I had no plans to go into the office today.
There were some upsides to being my own boss, and taking a random day off when my world had collapsed around me was one of them.
How was Joz coping? If he hadn’t laid the ground rules on visiting, I’d already be in the car and on the way to see him. I guessed he must’ve known I’d struggle to stay away, so he’d taken that decision away from me.
I wasn’t sure whether to praise him or curse him.
Central Park was fairly empty, and I wandered around lost in my own thoughts. I finished the hot chocolate and dropped the cup in the trash. How would I make the time pass without missing Joz every minute of the day?
My phone vibrated. I slid it from my purse, frowning when I saw a UK number, and not one in my contacts. Who could be calling me from the UK?
“Hello?”
“Hi, is that Aspen Kingcaid?”
“Who wants to know?” Never can be too careful.
“This is Erin Raynor, Joz’s sister.”
A cold sweat broke out over my skin, despite the chilly breeze. “Has something happened to Joz?” Surely the facility would have called me. Although I wasn’t his next of kin, so probably not, but Mike would have. He’d called me when Joz had OD’d. He wouldn’t leave me in the dark.
“No, Joz is fine.”
My knees wobbled, and I braced a hand against a tree.
“I haven’t spoken to him,” she continued. “Mum said that when he called her on Sunday, he told her he was going back to rehab.”
On trembling legs, I made my way to a nearby bench and sank onto it. “I drove him there on Monday.”
“That’s good. And I’m sure he’s fine. One of us would’ve heard if he wasn’t.”
I liked her logic. Gave me a minor heart attack, but she was right.
“Yes, of course. What can I do for you, Erin?”
She paused, then took a breath, and something about the way she did made me brace for bad news.
“This isn’t the way I’d have liked us to meet, and I hope you don’t mind Mike giving me your number, but it’s very important I talk to you.”
I wondered how she’d got my number. It wasn’t listed anywhere public for obvious reasons. I should have been pissed at Mike for not checking with me first, but as it was Joz’s sister he’d given it to, I’d let this one slide. Still, it was worth a mention next time our path’s crossed, though.
“Okay, go on.”
Silence hung between us. I checked the line. Still connected. My heart pounded. I didn’t like this. Something was wrong.
“Erin? You there?”
A strangled sob sounded in my ear, then words spilled out, falling over each other in her haste to say her piece. “Oh, Aspen. I’ve made a horrible mistake. Horrible. He’ll never forgive me. He’ll hate me forever. Please, you have to help me.”
“Erin, breathe. It’s okay. Just take a moment.”
The only sounds that came over the line were ones of a young woman slap bang in the middle of a panic attack. What the hell could’ve happened for her to be this upset? And with a stranger, too.
“Are you alone?” I asked.
A squeaked “Yes” forced its way out through harsh breaths.
Fuck. “Listen to me, Erin. I want you to do something for me. Are you listening?”
Another pained “Yes” echoed in my ear.
“It’s called box breathing, and it should help regulate your breaths. Now, I want you to inhale slowly through your nose and count to four. Don’t speak. Just do that for me.” I counted in my head. “Right, now hold for a count of four.” One, two, three, four. “Now, purse your lips and slowly, slowly, breathe out for a count of four.” More counting. “Now hold for another count of four, then I want you to repeat that until you feel calmer. I’m right here on the end of the phone. I’m not going anywhere.”
A full two minutes passed, but gradually, the rapid gasps of breath slowed. Then, in a voice so quiet I had to stick one finger in my other ear to have a chance of hearing her, Erin said, “It’s my fault the diary got leaked.”
Ice stole into my veins, and my blood pressure sky rocketed, the sound of fluid rushing through my ears. “What?”
“Oh, God, Aspen. What do I do? He will never forgive me. He’ll hate me.”
“He won’t hate you.”
“He will, and I deserve it, too. I’ve been so stupid. So, so stupid.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Erin, why don’t you tell me what happened from the very beginning. How is it your fault?”
“About a week ago, I met this guy. He seemed really nice, and he was so good looking.” She let out a bitter laugh. “What a cliché I am, huh? Anyway, we went on a couple of dates, and I told him who my brother was. I don’t usually tell people because, well, then I worry they’re only interested in me because of who Joz is. Anyway, this guy told me he was a huge fan, but he didn’t make a big deal of it. Then, one night, after a few drinks, he quietly slid in that he’d love to take a peek inside Joz’s apartment. You know, see where the great man lives. I should’ve smelt a rat then, but I just liked him so much.”
“Go on,” I encouraged when she stopped talking, although I had a feeling I already knew how this would end.
“Stupidly, I agreed. Joz was in America with you, so I used the key he told me was for emergencies only, and I took this guy there. The next morning, I woke up in the guest room, and he’d gone. I was hurt but, hey, it’s not the first time I’ve been played. Joz is always telling me I’m too trusting.” She heaved a sigh. “I hate myself.”
“And you think that it was then this guy stole Joz’s diary?” I knew it was, but telling Erin she’d been targeted by a journalist wouldn’t help calm her down and make her feel less shitty.
“Yeah. It had to be him. There’s no other way he could’ve got his hands on it. I didn’t even know it existed until I saw a news article right before I called you.”
“The story broke on Saturday,” I said.
“Yeah, but I don’t look at the news. Too depressing.”
Couldn’t argue with her there.
“Anyway, I’ve tried to phone the guy, but he never answers. I think he’s blocked my number. Got what he wanted and now he doesn’t need me anymore.”
Men were bastards. Not all men, but enough men for it to fucking count. And a certain type of male journalist were bastarding bastard men on bastard steroids.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Will you help me tell Joz? Once he’s out of rehab, I mean? I’d hate for this to delay his recovery. I feel so guilty. If it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t have relapsed.”
“You don’t know that.” Although if I were in her shoes, I’d feel the same way.
“Yes, I do. Will you be there when I tell him?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“It is. He’ll be so mad. I’ve let him down. I’ve let myself down. I never should’ve trusted a guy called Presley. I mean, what kind of a name is that, anyway? A twat of a name, that’s what.”
My whole body recoiled, muscles taut as though I’d had a bucket of ice water tipped over my head. Numbness followed, sinking deep into my bones. “What did you say his name was?” I whispered.
“Presley. He didn’t tell me his surname.”
“Knox,” I murmured. “It’s Knox.”
Erin took a sharp intake of breath. “You know him?”
“Yeah.” My jaw ached from where I kept clenching my teeth. “Unfortunately, I do. Look, Erin, you’re not to blame. You were taken in by a master manipulator. You leave Presley to me.”
“Who is he?”
A cunt. I’d been too busy dealing with Joz and the fallout from his relapse to keep an eye on Presley. “You don’t want to know. But like I said, leave him to me.”
“And what about Joz?”
“Let me approach that, too. When the time is right. If that’s all right with you.”
“It is. I think it’ll come better from you than from me.”
“Okay, good. And please don’t blame yourself. It’ll all work out. Trust me.”
“Joz said you were wonderful, and he was right. You are.”
“That’s lovely of you to say. I’ll be in touch. Take care.” I cut the call and sat there staring into nothingness for several minutes.
Presley fucking Knox coerced Joz’s sister into sleeping with him for no other reason than to give him access to Joz’s apartment. Had he had an inkling about the diary, or was he just looking for any kind of dirt to smear Joz’s name and reputation?
Only one way to find out.
I dialed his handler. “Hey, Adeline. Quick one. Where’s Presley scheduled to be today?”
“At the studio. He needs to re-record a couple of songs that Luke wasn’t happy with, and it’s the first chance we’ve had since he returned from his trip to London to spend time with his family.”
The trip where he was more interested in seducing Joz’s sister to try to dig up dirt on Joz than spending time with his parents and brother. Dirt he’d unfortunately found.
“Great, thanks.” I hung up and immediately called my lawyer. Whatever it took, however much it cost to rip up that contract, Presley Knox’s career with Kingcaid Music was over.
Presley was mid set when I entered the control room. I took a seat at the back, motioning for Luke, his sound engineer, to continue. Presley had his eyes closed, that haunting voice that had captivated me in London filling the studio. What a waste. What a fucking waste of talent.
Why had he done it? What could he possibly hope to gain? And how had he known about the diary in the first place?
After twenty minutes of making beautiful music that would never see the light of day, Presley set down his guitar. Only then did his gaze lock on me. He beamed, seemingly happy to see me, despite our previous face-to-face interaction after he’d tried to kiss me. That wouldn’t last long. I hooked a thumb at the door.
“Give us a minute, would you, Luke?”
“Oh, sure.” He slipped into the hallway.
Seconds later, the door between the control room and the sound booth opened. “Aspen, what a great surprise.”
“Sit down, Presley.” I jabbed a finger at Luke’s chair.
A momentary flicker of unease crossed his face as he sat. “Is something wrong?”
“Yes. Something is wrong.”
“Is it the album? Don’t you like it? Because we just re-recorded a couple of songs, and they’re gonna blow up big. You just wait. Anything you don’t like, I can fix it.”
“It’s not the album. And no, it won’t blow up big, because I don’t intend to release it.”
His eyes flared wide. “What?”
I leaned forward, elbows braced on the sound desk. “I know, Presley. I know everything.”
“Wh-what do you mean?”
The momentary stutter was a dead giveaway. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out it was you who leaked Joz’s diary?”
“Me?” He pointed at himself, then released the fakest laugh I’d ever heard. “What makes you think it was me?”
“Erin Raynor.”
A fleeting ‘Oh, fuck’ crossed his face, then his entire expression hardened. “She’s a liar.” He got up, and I did, too. “Whatever she told you, she’s lying.”
“So, you didn’t pretend to like her so you could sleep with her and gain access to Joz’s apartment? You didn’t go through his personal effects, find his diary, and leak it to the press? Tell me, Presley, how did you know Joz had written that diary? No one knew.”
With his crime out in the open, Presley’s mask slipped, and what lay beneath the genial image he portrayed was a whole load of ugly. He smirked. Smirked. “Not true. Someone knew.”
“Who?”
“A guy he was in rehab with. On my trip home, I was in a bar one night and got chatting to this guy. Raynor came up in conversation. No idea how he knew about the diary, but I guess secrets are hard to keep in those places. Isn’t it all about sharing and getting your demons out there?” He shrugged. “Not that I’d know.”
“But why? Joz was the one who championed you. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t have had this shot.” A shot he’d now wrecked beyond repair.
“I wanted to show you who he really was. He’s not good enough for you.”
Jesus Christ. Not this again. “And you think you are?”
“I know I am.”
I heaved a heavy sigh. “Whatever feelings you think you have for me, they’re not real. It’s a crush that will pass as soon as you meet a girl you like. You’ve committed a crime, Presley. You see that, don’t you?”
He shook his head. “All I see is you being taken for a fool. If you’re not careful, you’ll end up like Caroline.”
A flash of anger surged through me. “You’re done here. Get your things and get out.”
I turned, ready to leave, but as I reached for the door, he grabbed my arm, spinning me. His body slammed into mine, momentarily knocking the air from my lungs. He smashed his lips to mine, clamping his hand around my throat. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t bring my knee up, not from this position. He was too close, too strong.
Adrenaline shot through my system, and an icy sweat broke out all over my body. For a split second, I panicked.
Remember your self-defense classes.
I jammed both thumbs into Presley’s eyes. He hollered and stumbled backward. With the space he made, I rammed the heel of my hand under his chin. His head snapped back, and he lost his balance, fell backward, and crashed into the mixing board.
I wrenched open the door and collided with Luke. “Call the police,” I gasped, rubbing my aching throat.
His gaze panned behind me, where Presley was half-slumped on the floor. “What the f—?”
“Just do it, Luke. Now! And don’t let him leave.”
“On it.”
I lurched down the hallway, pitching myself through the door to my office. As soon as I slid the lock in place, my knees gave way, and I crumpled to the floor. I couldn’t stop my hands from shaking.
It’s okay. You’re okay.
Fight or flight. I’d fought, and now my body had gone in to recovery mode.
Taking the advice I’d given to Erin, I took several deep breaths. Gradually, my chest slowed down, and the shakes assaulting my body eased.
That was when the tears came.
I lost track of time, of how long I sat on the floor of my office when there was a perfectly comfortable chair and a small couch I could’ve picked instead. Why had I allowed myself to be alone with Presley for a second time? Why did I do that? Stupid. So fucking stupid. I should’ve fired him weeks ago when he tried to kiss me, but I’d given him the benefit of the doubt.
This time, I’d make sure the fucking book was thrown at that guy.
A tentative knock came at my door. “Aspen, it’s Luke. The police are here.”
“One sec.” Using my desk for leverage, I hauled myself off the floor. After snagging a tissue from the box on my desk, I blew my nose, then used a fresh one to wipe my face. After ensuring my clothes were in place, I opened the door.
A uniformed female officer with kind eyes smiled at me. “Miss Kingcaid.”
I nodded, standing back. “Come in, please.” I gestured to the sofa, and I sat behind my desk. Somehow, it gave me a sense of control. The commanding CEO rather than the powerless victim.
“Would you like to tell me what happened?”
“Yes,” I said, squaring my shoulders. “Presley Knox assaulted me, and I want to press charges.”
