Wreck the Halls(49)

“Real heartwarming scene last night, the whole family gathered for your mother’s annual ego trip. Your”—he performed air quotes—“father still has the wool pulled over his eyes when it comes to your mother. If only he knew.”

“Get out,” Beat clipped. “Get out of the building and don’t come here again. Whether I have to secure a loan or we make this gig happen, I’ll have the money by Christmas, as agreed upon. There is no reason for you to keep contacting me.”

“Isn’t there?” The blackmailer stepped into Beat’s space and his skin shrunk in around his bones. “One of these days, you’re going to think about getting brave, maybe letting the truth come out. I think these little visits from me remind you exactly how little you want people to know that I’m your real father. Not the man everyone thinks it is. Not the man who thinks your mother was faithful from the day they met.”

A ring tightened around his jugular. “I said, get out.”

Beat’s blackmailer sauntered backward with a skin-crawling laugh. “Have fun with Trina—that crazy bitch.” He spun toward the staircase and threw open the door. “I’ll be watching with a bowl of popcorn.”

The blanket of silence after the stairwell door snicked shut was deafening. Instinct begged Beat to go back inside the apartment, knock on the guest room door, and tell Melody everything. The relief of having her on his side would be incredible. He could almost feel the burden toppling off his shoulders. But it would land right on top of hers—and he couldn’t do that. Not after he’d already brought Wreck the Halls to her doorstep. Not after last night, when he’d hurt her by backing off at the last second. Melody was a rare, perfect bright spot in his life and if he piled too much of his shit on top of her, he’d dull that luminous glow.

No, he’d keep his mouth shut and handle Fletcher on his own, thank you very much. This was his problem pertaining to his family. She didn’t need this on her plate.

Beat was in the middle of a deep breath when the elevator doors slid open. Danielle and Joseph stepped off midargument. The camera was down by Joseph’s side, Danielle backing off the elevator with hands planted on her hips. And she continued to back up until her back met the wall of the hallway, the cameraman towering over her, looking very much like he was thinking about kissing the producer.

At least, until they simultaneously noticed Beat standing there.

“Beat!” Flustered, Danielle smoothed her hair and sidestepped her way free of the trap Joseph was creating with his body. “Good morning. What are you doing out here?”

“I was just speaking with one of my neighbors,” he said, briskly, already turning the knob to let himself back into the apartment. “I’ll let Mel know you’re here.”

Beat drew to a halt when he found Melody standing in the foyer, overnight bag in hand.

“Consider me informed,” she breathed, looking at his chin. Not his eyes.

Sweet hell, she looked hot. She wore a white T-shirt tucked into a pair of high-waisted jeans, and the curve of those hips belonged in a man’s hands. His. He’d squeezed them at the gym and again last night. His palms recalled the shape now, flexing at his sides. What would it feel like to grip them from the back? Or dig his thumbs into them while he used his tongue between her thighs? Because he had a lot of regrets from last night, but very, very close to the top of the list was not getting on his knees in the hallway. If last night was the only chance he’d ever get to touch Melody, he could have at least lived his life knowing what one of her orgasms tasted like.

“Are we okay to start filming?” Danielle asked, hesitantly.

“No,” Beat said.

“Yes,” Melody chimed in at the same time.

“We should talk,” he said, shaking his head at her.

“We can talk on the plane, right?”

Danielle laughed nervously. “Everything okay with you two?”

“No,” Beat growled.

Melody widened her eyes at him. “Yes.”

“Melody.”

She set down her overnight bag and slipped past him to take her coat off the rack, shrugging it on. When she couldn’t seem to locate one of the armholes, Beat stepped up behind her without thinking and helped, her gingerbread scent making him feel light-headed. “Thanks,” she murmured, walking away to retrieve her bag once again.

Everyone was silent, Joseph obviously not sure if he should start recording, trading a surreptitious glance with Danielle.

“You’re all staring at me.” Melody laughed.

Who would ever want to look anywhere else when she’s in the room?

“You seem uneasy,” Danielle pointed out, instead.

Melody expelled a breath. “Of course I am. I’m going to see my mother. At her compound. She has no idea that we’re coming, as far as we know. And I have no clue what I’m going to find when we get there. Compound could be code for cult. They could be praying to a statue of Chester Cheeto when we arrive.” She paused. “It’s not even February.”

Danielle’s phone rang. She didn’t answer it right away, the ring going off three times in the quiet apartment before she apologized and tapped the screen. “Hello?” She listened. “Okay, thank you. We’ll be there shortly.” She hung up, her gaze darting between Beat and Melody. “Our private charter came through. I didn’t think it was wise to fly commercial after last night, but it took some sweet-talking to get the network to approve it.” She pocketed her phone. “Unfortunately, we need to move. A lot of rich people are traveling at this time of year and our pilot is on a tight schedule.”