he move a muscle. “What’s wrong, baby? Thought you’d be happy to see me.”
I rub my hand over my breastbone, willing my chaotic heart to settle down. “I am. But you scared me to death.”
He sits forward, casually resting his elbows on his thighs and spears me with an anything-but-casual look. “Why is Andrew Lane sending my fiancée flowers?” he asks with lethal calm.
“I—I don’t know.”
“What shoot is he talking about?”
“Huh?” I step closer, then stop. Chaser’s brimming with anger. He didn’t greet me at the door with a kiss… Something’s really, really wrong here.
“Answer my question. What shoot is he talking about?”
“You read the card?” Oh, shit. I’m going to have to tell him everything that happened a whole lot sooner than I planned. Good Lord, Chaser wanted to put a bullet in Andrew for bringing girls on his bus. Trying to get me into bed? He’ll kill Andrew for sure. This time, he’ll go to prison and stay there.
His face twists with fury and he jumps out of the chair, charging half-way across the living room. “Who the fuck do you think accepted the delivery? The flowers-for-other-men’s-fiancée’s fairy?”
“What?”
“Why is your friend Andrew Lane sending you a big ol’ bunch of ‘let’s get buck naked and fuck’ flowers?”
Holy hell, this is bad. So, so bad. “He asked me to model for the T-shirt line he’s creating.” My shoulders lift in what I hope looks like a casual shrug.
“Are you fucking serious?”
Heat races over my cheeks. As the words came out of my mouth, I realized how stupid they sounded. Too late.
“Were you at his place today?”
“No, yesterday.” I glance down at the flowers. “The shoot’s supposed to be tomorrow, but—”
“Like fuck you are.”
“Excuse me?”
“Pamela's been calling Jacob. Offering to come up to Vancouver and visit.” Chaser’s low tone sets my nerves on edge. “But yesterday, she called me.”
Pamela called him? “Why?”
“To let me know Andrew’s been showing up on set, asking you out, having you over for dinner—”
“That’s not even true.” I back up until my butt hits the table and brace myself against it. The roses rustle against each other. One lone petal drifts down, tickling the back of my hand.
“So, he didn’t show up on set?” He steps forward.
“Yes, but—”
Anger and maybe fear glitter in his eyes with his next question. “And you weren’t at his house?”
“I was but—”
“Mallory.” Disappointment wrecks his voice.
“He asked me to model some shirts for him,” I hurry to explain. “Back in New York. I never said anything because I didn’t think anything of it. Then he brought it up again. I thought he was trying to make Pamela jealous,” I finish babbling out all that jumbled nonsense and take a breath. “I brought Cindy with me. Did Pamela bother to tell you that?”
He pauses. Obviously, Pamela didn’t mention that part.
Of course, I haven’t yet confessed how Cindy left early and Andrew told me in great, disgusting detail how much he wants to fuck me.
“Even if that’s true, you’re way past modeling some shitty line of vanity T-shirts.”
“What do you mean, ‘even if that’s true?’” I swallow hard and avert my eyes, staring at the rose petal next to my fingers. “When have I ever lied to you, Chaser?”
“You’re not telling me everything. I can see it all over your face, Mallory. You talk to me about every single job offer and audition that comes your way. Why hide this one?”
“I didn’t hide anything. Andrew yaps about stupid projects all the time.” I flap my hands in the air, completely frustrated. “Like his funk-country-rock music idea. Some dumb T-shirts weren’t important enough for me to remember.”
“You spending time alone with a man who’s been out to fuck you since the get-go is fucking important!” he shouts as he stalks closer. “You like him, don’t you?”
“No!”
A cruel smile curves his lips. “You need a one-off, Mal? I get that our score cards are uneven. Andrew Lane’s beneath you, in my opinion—”
“What?” The high, shrill tone of my voice makes me wince. He can’t possibly— “What does that even mean?”
“Do you want more experience?” With the anguish on his face and the raw rasp of his voice, I can’t understand why he’d ever suggest something so awful. “Feel like you need to experiment more?”
At my blank look he forces another harsh smile.
“Do you need to ride a few more dicks before I tie you down for good?”
“No! Gross.” Shock keeps my voice several octaves higher than normal. “Why would you even suggest that?”