Three and a Half Weeks Page 19

The naked woman in his arms… who’s not Ella. “What the fuck?” he screams and Alexis jumps up, startled.

  “Chill out, lover boy,” comes her throaty voice. “One would think you’d never seen a naked woman in your bed before.”

  “What the fuck are you doing in my house, Alexis? Was I not crystal clear the last time you broke in? Do you have a yen to go to jail? Because that’s exactly where you’re headed.”

  “No,” she purrs, reaching out to brush the lock of stray hair out of his eyes. “I have a yen for you.”

  He slaps her hand away viciously. “Don’t touch me,” he says in a scathingly cold voice as he jumps out of the bed and pulls on a pair of jeans, grabbing his phone and punching in the number for Jarvis’ cell.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he screams into the phone when it connects to Jarvis’ voice, thick with sleep. “Were my orders not explicit enough? I told you to watch Alexis Martinez 24/7 until I left town. Which part did you not understand, Jarvis?”

  The voice on the other end is suddenly on high alert. “Mr. Blackmon. We’ve tried to comply but she never came home for us to pick up the tail. It’s impossible to follow someone you can’t find.”

  “Well, that’s because right now she’s in my fucking bed, Jarvis. Get someone here now to get her the hell out.”

  “Do you want to bring in law enforcement at this point?”

  “Use your professional judgment. If you do bring the cops in on it, make sure you tell them I’ve already left the country. I don’t want my trip delayed by this bullshit. Just get here now!”

  He shrugs into a tee-shirt and snatches his leather jacket out of the closet before heading downstairs. Running his hand through his hair, he realizes how lucky it was that Ella wasn’t with him last night. Would Alexis have hurt her? There was no way he was bringing Ella to this houseboat again. They’d both be safer in the glass house

  He puts on his running shoes, sans socks, since he doesn’t want to go back upstairs and see the crazy bitch again. She can’t leave from the upper story unless she wants to break a limb or two. There’s no climbing down unless she knows where the ladder is concealed. Shit! She might just know it, the crafty wacko. He runs back upstairs to check on her.

  Alexis is not in the master bedroom when he gets there. Thinking she went out the window, he’s about to check the roof garden when he hears water running in the master bath. Talk about calm: she’s freshening up for her arrest? The door opens a few moments later and she’s fully dressed. She smiles.

  “A dress, Alexis? Do you have something a bit more casual for jail?”

  Laughing, she says, “Oh, Ian, you know I’m not going to jail. I know you don’t want negative press right now when big things are happening at your company. Being involved in a sordid stalking won’t calm your investing partners’ anxiety.”

  His eyes narrow menacingly as he takes a long, hard look at her. What exactly is going on here? Choosing his words carefully and struggling for calm, he says, “At least you acknowledge that you’re a sordid stalker. Exactly who are these investing partners to whom you refer, Alexis? Please, enlighten me.”

  She shrugs. “Oh, you know very well who they are. I do my homework, baby. So… when do you get back from Tokyo, you and what’s-her-name?”

  His blood boiling, Ian grabs her upper arm and hauls her out of the bedroom and down the stairs. When they reach the living room, he forces her into a chair to wait for Jarvis to arrive. Fortunately, his residence is five minutes away so he should be able to get here soon, providing he can get a back-up team together. In the meantime, Ian attempts to extract more information from the woman.

  “What’s this all about, Alexis? Who are you working for?”

  “Working for? Why would you assume that, Ian?”

  “Obviously, you’re trying to glean information about my company… and what’s with the sudden obsession with me? You didn’t seem so broken up when I stopped seeing you. Methinks I sense a nefarious plot afoot.”

  Tossing her glossy head back, she laughs. “Paranoid bastard, aren’t you, Ian? I hate to disappoint you but I’m just your standard garden-variety stalker. I don’t take kindly to men dumping me, baby. That’s really all there is to it. And what does what’s-her-name got that I don’t?”

  There’s a loud knock on the door and he gets up from his perch on the arm of an upholstered chair to open it. That was fast: Jarvis and three of his men rush into the house.

  “Mr. Blackmon, we’ll take it from here.”

  Alexis looks surprised that the men are actually there. She rises to her feet and begins to back away from them, but the two stockiest go after her and easily restrain her. Ian watches as they drag her out of the house.

  “Don’t touch me,” he hears her scream. “Rape!”

  One of the men claps a hand over her mouth and she bites him and yells again as he mutters a curse. They push her into a white van they left running in front of the house. Jarvis watches from the door. “We’ll let the police know you’ll be available next week but honestly I don’t know if they’ll hold her without you personally pressing charges, Mr. Blackmon. Is there any possible way you can just put in an appearance at the precinct today?”

  Ian runs his hand through his hair in agitation. “Yes, I suppose I will if it means they’ll hold her. Something like this, they’ll almost definitely set bail and expect me to take out a restraining order—am I correct?”

  Jarvis nods. “That’s usually the way it goes, yes. Let me see what strings I could pull. I know one of the desk sergeants at that precinct.

  “Very good. Keep me posted.”

  Ian glances at his watch, wondering if Ella would be up by now. It’s after nine so she’s almost certainly awake. Taking the steps two at a time, he hurries into the bathroom to take a quick shower, only to find all of Alexis’ toiletries on the vanity—she truly made herself at home. Sweeping his arm across the lot of them, he pushes them into the garbage in disgust and then pops into the shower. He needs to get to Ella and explain about Alexis—he is not going to take any chances.

  Before getting into his convertible, Ian tries calling her on her cell but it goes directly to voice mail—he bangs his hand on the steering wheel in frustration. Then he tries Mariah’s home phone. Mariah answers, her voice groggy.

  “Mariah, it’s Ian Blackmon. Is Ella there?”

  “Uh, I don’t know—I was sleeping. Can you call back in ten?”

  “I’m on my way now. I’ll wait till I get there.”

  “Okay. I’ll make coffee if Ella hasn’t already made some. See you soon.”

  Why isn’t Ella picking up her phone? He’s trying to push down the anxiety that’s creeping up his spine but he can’t stop its encroachment.

  Pulling up in front of the apartment, Ian takes a deep breath, trying to quell the premonition that something’s truly amiss. He strides with purpose toward the front door, anxious to see Ella.

  The apartment door opens as soon as he knocks.

  “Ian. Come in.” Mariah looks subdued, even troubled.

  “What’s wrong? Where’s Ella?” Now the knot in his stomach tightens painfully.

  “She left.”

  “What do you mean, left? We’re leaving for Tokyo tomorrow.”

  “She was gone when I woke up… she left a note.”

  “May I see the note, please?”

  Mariah looks hesitant. “Come in and sit down, Ian. Let’s talk for a bit. I’ll get you a cup of coffee.”

  He has no choice but to play by her rules so he complies but as every minute ticks by, he feels the meltdown approach ever nearer. Right now, his body feels as tense as a bow the moment it’s drawn.

  “What happened?” Mariah asks, handing him the coffee mug. “What sent her running?”

  The hot coffee anchors him to the sofa: if he weren’t holding it, the adrenaline in his body would force him to his feet. “I’m not sure, Mariah. I need information.”

  Ella’s friend is thinkin
g, mulling something over, and it makes him wonder what the hell the note said. Did Alexis contact Ella? Hurt her in any way? What the hell was going on?

  Clearing her throat, Mariah begins again. “Did something… unusual occur between last night and this morning, Ian?”

  “Yes.”

  “What?”

  He sighs. “A woman is stalking me. Sometime last night she broke into my home… and got into bed with me. I didn’t discover her presence until I opened my eyes this morning to a rude awakening. Very rude,” he adds sardonically.

  “Ah, that explains things.” She pulls a piece of paper out of her robe pocket and hands it to him. “Have a look.”

  Taking the paper, he quickly scans it. Now a lump of lead sits in his chest as he begins to put two and two together.

  Mariah, I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye but I had to leave, like, right away. I won’t be coming back to Portland. I’m going back to L.A. to stay and it happens that Lucien is there and asked me to meet him so it works out conveniently. I’m including the rent check for next month since I didn’t give you any advance notice. If Ian calls, please don’t give him any information. He and I are through (I’ll explain next time we talk).

  All love,

  Ella

  Ian sits staring at the paper long after he finishes reading, imagining the possible scenario. “Did Ella leave the apartment anytime last night?” he finally asks.

  “I don’t know but it looks that way. Either that or the stalker contacted her and somehow convinced her of something she didn’t like. You have to leave for Tokyo soon, don’t you?”

  Not bothering to answer, he asks, “Where is she? Do you happen to have her address in L.A.?”

  Mariah gets up, her bare feet padding across the hardwood floor to the breakfast bar, where she pulls an address book off the corner. Flipping through it, she finds the page. “Yes.” She tosses a pen to him and he catches it, turning over the piece of paper to write on the back. Mariah reads off the address.

  Checking the time, he wonders if she’s already in the air or if he could still intercept her at the airport. Traveling on a commercial flight takes time to book, make it through security, board the plane, etc. He might just get lucky. The other option is to take no chances and just get there, possibly ahead of her.

  Always decisive in crisis situations, Ian reaches into his pocket for his phone. “Jonas. Is the Gulfstream available this morning? Good. Call Scott and tell him I’m on my way and I need to get to L.A. If he’s not available to pilot, I’ll do it myself but ask him if he could at least file a flight plan for me. I need to get in the air ASAP. I’m on my way to the airfield right now. Thanks.”

  Less than two hours later, Ian buckles his seat belt and leans back into the buttery leather chair as the plane taxies down the runway. Fortunately, Scott was available to pilot the plane, allowing Ian to make calls and try to resolve some problems during the flight. Right now what’s eating away at him the most is the possibility that Lucien will get to Ella first. Would she succumb to his charms if she thought Ian was cheating on her?

  Either Alexis somehow got to Ella or Ella walked into the bedroom and saw the psycho in bed with him. Knowing Ella, rather than confronting him then and there, she would run. That’s her MO. He’s trying, with monumental effort, not to be angry with Ella for rushing to judgment—after all, what other conclusion could she have drawn? He hadn’t yet told her about the woman stalking him. Besides, how many women would want to have a scene with her lover while he was in bed with a naked woman? Rather intimidating, he’d think.

  His phone chimes. “What’s going on, Jarvis?”

  “Mr. Blackmon. Alexis Martinez was arrested and booked but was released on her own recognizance. As your head of security, they permitted me to press charges against her for stalking, as well as breaking and entering, but the bail assigned was paltry and she made it within a half hour. I went back to your houseboat and secured it.”

  “Good. Do we know how she got in?”

  “Not yet. The lock on the door wasn’t jimmied—in fact, a lock like that is virtually jimmy-proof. It looks like she had a key, believe it or not. We also found a bag of take-out coffee and croissants in the kitchen. Did you put it there?”

  He closes his eyes in frustration. “No, I didn’t… but I don’t think it was Alexis who did, either. I think it was my girlfriend who apparently came over unexpectedly. Now at least I know why she left town.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. We have someone on Martinez now. She won’t pull a stunt like this one again.”

  “I’ll hold you to that promise, Jarvis. I want this matter dealt with expeditiously—and harshly. I suspect the woman is working for someone… might even be corporate espionage at play here.”

  “Yes, sir. We’ll handle it. I’ll let you know if anything else comes up.”

  “Good.” He disconnects the call.

  He gets to Los Feliz by three o’clock. If he and Ella are going to make their flight to Tokyo from Portland tomorrow, he’ll have to be quick about it. Pinning his hope that she goes to her rental house first, before she does anything else, he hasn’t allowed himself to consider alternatives. She had better not be with Phillips because she might do something very stupid out of hurt and anger, something that will compromise their relationship permanently. And he, in turn, might do something very stupid out of hurt and anger.

  Following the GPS, he finds the house and notes that there’s a car in the driveway. Did Ella mention that she owned a car? He can’t remember, but hopes it’s a rental auto she picked up at the airport, and expertly pulls his rented car into a space partway down the block.

  Pausing at the front door to listen, he can hear the faint strains of music. His racing heart slows down a tiny bit. He barely notices the charm of the cottage, the arbor dripping with pink-flowering vines, the Mexican tile paths and steps, the tall drought-resistant grasses swaying in the gentle breeze. All he can think of is finding Ella and setting her straight.

  Ian raps the knocker hard against the door since there’s no bell. He can hear footsteps coming closer and he’s careful to stay out of view lest she spots him and refuses to answer the door. He’s counting on her naiveté to just swing open the door without checking to see whom it is first. She doesn’t let him down.

  As soon as her eyes take him in, unadulterated shock drops her jaw open. “Ian! I have absolutely nothing to say to you,” she spits at him and attempts to slam the door in his face.

  Anticipating her reaction, he slides his foot between the door and jamb so it’s impossible to close, then pushes his way in.

  “Get out now or I’m calling the police.”

  “No,” he answers simply and closes the door behind him.

  “What do you want?”

  “Are we alone, Ella?”

  “What difference can it possibly make? Yes, we’re alone. Say your piece and leave.”

  “Okay, I will,” he says, advancing toward her. Her eyes widen, in surprise or fear, he can’t tell. Might as well have a bit of fun for all the trouble she put him through.

  She stands there—back straight, eyes wide, saying nothing now. He looks right into her eyes, smiles, and says one word.

  “Strip.”

  Chapter 22

  I’m gaping slack-jawed at the tall, enigmatic man standing in front of me, trying not to dwell on the fact that he looks good enough to bite. “Well, that answers one lingering question I’ve had since I’ve known you, Ian.” I aim for a flippant tone but my heart is hammering in my chest and all the spit in my mouth has evaporated. I don’t want him to see me this emotionally vulnerable—he’s arrogant enough as it is.

  He cocks his head, his eyes inscrutable. “Am I supposed to ask what question?”

  I shrug, feigning nonchalance. “Ask or not, it makes no difference to me.” I begin to turn away and he grabs my elbow.

  “Fine, I’ll bite: what lingering question, Ella?”

  “Whether or not you�
��re insane—now of course it’s confirmed.”

  He raises an eyebrow and smirks. “Well, good, now that that’s all cleared up, do as I said or I’ll do it for you.”

  “If you actually think I’m going to have anything to do with you after what you did, Ian, you really are completely delusional. Now remove yourself from the premises. I have matters that require my attention. Not everyone in the world kowtows to the almighty Ian Blackmon, you know.”

  He laughs. Laughs! And says, “Either you’ll take off your clothes or I’ll take them off for you—and I won’t be careful about it.” He makes a show of looking at his watch. “In less than five minutes after I’ve explained the matter to you, you’re going to apologize to me and, consequently, I’m going to punish you for making me drop everything to run here to get you, Ella. I’d simply like you to be ready for it.”

  “Fuck you, Ian,” I snap and attempt to leave the room. I’m supposed to meet Lucien in a few hours in West Hollywood and I need to shower and take a power nap. I’m done crying over Ian Blackmon, really I am. I spent the whole morning doing it and I have the red, swollen eyes to prove it.

  “Ella,” he says, spinning me around. “You really do owe me a heartfelt apology,” he says as his hands go to my shirt and rip it open, buttons flinging everywhere. I gasp so loudly and strongly that I almost choke on my own saliva.

  “You ruined my shirt!” I’ve often been told I have a talent for stating the obvious. Blackmon totally ignores my shock, his face a wooden mask of impassivity—but his eyes? His eyes convey a quite different story.

  His eyes are scorching. It’s beyond fascinating how every nuance of his mood is readily reflected in the depths of those strange eyes.

  “I believe I told you to do it or I would.” He’s staring, mesmerized, at my breasts, encased right now in a skimpy lace shelf bra that barely covers the girls. “Every single time I see you without clothes, I marvel at the texture of your skin, Ella. No manmade material could ever approximate the exquisite feel of it,” he says hoarsely as he runs just the tips of his fingers across my collarbone and down to my hip. Everything from my navel down lurches into sharp contraction and instantly feels liquid. It’s in the midst of this elastic moment that I know I will submit to him, regardless of whether he deserves it or not, and I sway on my feet.