“I always knew you were hot for me, Blake,” Ryder says.
“My secret’s out,” Sebastian responds dryly.
I notice that Ryder’s eyes avoid Daisy, and now she’s looking down, playing with the straw in her drink, appearing uncharacteristically shy. He slinks into a pool lounger. He’s in his standard uniform of jeans and a black T-shirt, leather and silver bracelets on his wrist, with tats snaking up his lean but muscular forearms. His eyes are weary. He looks beyond exhausted, but there’s something in his smile, in the way he’s drumming his fingers against his well-worn jeans that radiates energy.
“You guys finish your session?” Daisy asks, a little breathless.
“Yeah. It took us the whole night, but we finally laid down a new track.” With his wide smile, he’s less jaded rock star and more excited little kid. I find myself warming to him. The truth is, everyone in this house intimidates the hell out of me, but the more I get to know them, the more I realize that despite their insane jobs and glamorous lives, they’re just normal people, passionate about their careers, having fun with friends.
“That’s dope.” Sebastian jumps out of the water and grabs a towel before plopping down into the pool lounger next to Ryder. “I thought you were in a writing slump.”
Ryder shrugs, his eyes briefly straying to Daisy before quickly looking away when her gaze lifts to his. “It’s been years since the music just flowed.”
“This is major,” Sebastian says. “We need to celebrate.”
“Yes! Can we? Please?” The prospect of a party shakes Daisy from her silence. “It doesn’t have to be a big party.”
“Daisy, last time…” Ryder says with a frown.
“This isn’t last time,” Daisy snaps. “Jesus. Can everyone forget that? I’m not a stupid sixteen-year-old now.”
“Daisy. I found you after you—。” He takes a deep breath. “I’m never going to forget. That was the scariest damn day of my life.” Ryder’s eyes light with intensity.
Daisy plays with the dials of her camera, but she doesn’t answer him.
“Bro, we’re not talking about a rager. We’ll keep it chill,” Sebastian says.
“Chase won’t like it,” Ryder warns darkly.
“Well, it’s a good thing Chase isn’t around, then.” Sebastian grins. “He’s still stuck somewhere. Right, Daisy?”
Daisy nods. “I think.”
“So he won’t be back for another day, at least. This place is like a morgue, and you writing new music deserves a celebration. We won’t call it a party. It’s just a few friends hanging out. It’ll be fine. All in favor of a non-party, say aye,” Sebastian says.
“Aye.” I raise my hand. It’s a risk, so that means it’s something I have to do. Gotta listen to Nanna.
“Aye,” Daisy says, her eyes shining with excitement.
“Fuck yeah,” Sebastian says.
Ryder’s eyes scan our eager faces. He sighs. “I know when I’m outnumbered. But no strangers. I don’t care if they’re supermodels, Sebastian. Only a few close friends hanging out. And I’m sticking to you girls like glue tonight. Call me Velcro. And you, Daisy, no trouble. Got it?”
“Yes, Daddy,” Daisy says with a cheeky grin.
Even with shades, Ryder’s glare is fierce.
“Relax,” Sebastian says. “Uncle Sebastian’s got it all under control.”
CHAPTER 23
Chase
I’ve been in jeeps, boats, planes—big and small, and even a short trip on a bus trying to get home, and I’m bleary-eyed from exhaustion. I spent the car ride from the airport to Malibu on the phone with my security team, trying to figure out who the hell left Olivia that note and doing damage control with my publicist.
No one has new information on the fire or the letter left by the stalker, but at least my publicist has a plan. She suggests the best way to throw the world’s attention off Olivia is to date someone else. Distract and deflect.
She throws out the names of a few fellow actresses. Her first choice is Cassidy since a significant portion of the fandom already believes we’re dating, and it would be great for the franchise. Plus, the stalker likely ships Cassidy and Chase—otherwise known as Chassidy. Cassidy is back from Colombia in a few days, so I tentatively agree with the plan.
This whole situation is my nightmare come true. The pap scrutiny surrounding Olivia is bad enough. But could a fan really have started a fire to try to kill her? Unfortunately, I know the potential exists. Over the years, I’ve had fans do some sick shit in the name of loving me. They’ve surprised me in various hotel rooms, usually naked in my bed. That may sound like a good thing, but the reality is unnerving. One woman, very early in my career, believed she was my wife and spent the entire weekend at my last house. I came home to her baking me a chocolate cake and wielding a kitchen knife.