fangirl 02 - an unexpected entanglement Read online

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  Epilogue

  Back Matter

  Copyright © 2017 E. V. Darcy

  Cover Design © 2017 Bespoke Book Covers

  All rights reserved.

  Editing by E-Scribes.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

  [email protected]

  To my girls, Julie, Tracy, and Kirsty, for all your love and support during the hard times.

  1

  Casey McManaman staggered into the en-suite bathroom of his hotel room, clutching his head and wishing that the miniature drummer within it would stop his repetitive beat. Last night, he and the boys had drunk far more than they’d realised, before Robson ruined the fun. Casey pouted, reminiscing. Who knew Luc could be like that when away from his missus? He’d have to remember to get his friend and co-star away from his wife more often; perhaps then, he’d have someone alongside him to take some of the flak he got from the Network. The Powers That Be would be less likely to go after their golden boy, and if Luc ever walked away from the show, they’d be screwed.

  He flinched as he switched on the light, and groaned when he looked in the mirror. Fuck, he was going to have to do some major work on his face today. His eyes were outlined with dark circles; his complexion was so pale he could be mistaken for death warmed up. He certainly felt like it.

  He ambled into the shower, switching it to hot and high; he needed the stiffness out of his muscles, especially his shoulders. He still had problems there. He glanced in the mirror at the long, silvery marks decorating his back, right across the problem area. They were marks that had taught him a cruel lesson, one he held dear to that day.

  He turned away from the view with disgust, grabbed his shower gel and got down to business. Tanya, his bodyguard, would be there soon to drag his sorry arse downstairs and begin the farce all over again.

  He closed his eyes and rested his head against the cool shower wall, a stark contrast to the heat beating down across his back. He let his mind empty and thought of nothing as the water jets massaged his muscles and relaxed his ageing body.

  He was pushing forty-four and he was feeling every minute of it. Perhaps the others were right; maybe it was time to slow down a bit?

  A knock at the door startled him out of his stupor.

  ‘Mr. McManaman? Housekeeping…’ a woman’s soft voice called. A lazy smile curved his lips.

  Maybe he’d slow down tomorrow…

  Tanya had not been impressed when she’d walked in and found him shagging the maid over the hotel room’s desk. It wasn’t the first time she’d walked in on such a situation, and they both knew it wouldn’t be the last. At least that’s what he’d thought.

  ‘How long have I been working for you now?’ Tanya asked as soon as the door closed behind the shamefaced girl. In his opinion, the young maid had nothing to be ashamed about; she’d been soft and supple under his hands, and tight around his hard cock. She’d said she was twenty-five, but if she was a day over twenty, he’d eat his—

  ‘Are you listening to me, dickhead?’ Tanya asked, clicking her fingers as she marched towards where he sat on the bed, robe thrown on, but not fastened. He had no shame, and she’d seen him naked too many times to be bashful about getting an eyeful.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Casey sighed, waving his hand at her to stop the woman getting any closer. ‘About seven years or so.’

  ‘Seven years, nine months,’ she clarified.

  ‘And your point is?’

  She sighed and pulled the chair away from the desk, seating herself opposite him.

  ‘I’m forty-eight, Casey,’ she told him in that soft, motherly voice she always used when she was being deadly serious about something and he wasn’t going to like it. It also meant that he wouldn’t be able to change her mind, no matter what he threw at her. ‘My daughter is expecting—’

  ‘Congratulations, Nanny.’

  ‘—and I want to be a proper grandmother—’

  ‘You’ll get bored,’ he interjected quickly, knowing exactly what she was thinking of doing.

  ‘Maybe,’ she replied with a shrug. ‘Maybe not.’

  ‘So, what? You’re going to get a cottage somewhere, bake cakes and biscuits, and walk some dog you get from a rescue?’

  ‘Oh, Casey,’ she sighed. ‘It’s not the end of the world. I’m telling you this now; in six months, my first grandchild is due, I’m giving you four months’ notice. I’ll help you find my replacement within three.’

  ‘Ugh!’ He fell back on the bed, his arms wide, letting her get a good look at his toned body—she enjoyed the view but never touched.

  He gazed up at the ceiling, trying to process what Tanya was saying. Fuck. She was leaving him. The one consistent woman in his life was going and he’d be left with no one.

  ‘Will you at least blow me?’ he asked, not in the least bit serious. He hadn’t managed to come before Tanya had walked in and ruined the fun, but he’d lost all motivation to even think sexy thoughts at this bombshell.

  ‘Not in this lifetime.’ He chuckled at the standard response. At least something was still the same. ‘And I hope you were safe.’

  ‘You know I won’t tap it unless I wrap it.’

  ‘Good boy.’

  He sat up on his elbows to watch her as she put the chair back. ‘I’m only five years younger than you.’

  ‘Get a shower—wash that little slut off you—and let’s get a move on, or you’ll be late for the Meet and Greet.’

  ‘I hate you,’ he muttered as he climbed off the bed and headed back towards the shower. ‘But I’m gonna miss you.’

  ‘I know,’ she said sadly, as he closed the door.

  2

  ‘He can have the fucking thing. I don’t care!’ Paige Hamilton snapped into her phone as she paced in front of the door, the same one she was supposed to have gone through five minutes ago for Casey McManaman’s Meet and Greet. The convention staff were not happy with her tardiness.

  ‘You mean for the right price?’ Deanna, her friend and lawyer back in Chicago, asked.

  ‘No, I don’t care. Just let him have the apartment. I just want those damned papers signing so I can get the cheating bastard out of my life.’ She jabbed the button to end her call, knowing if she didn’t her friend would convince her to hold on, to get something out of the mess that had been her marriage. But she just neede
d it over with. She needed to be free again.

  Paige stopped her pacing and stood in front of the blank wall of the hotel, biting back the tears threatening to fall. Her hands were on her hips as she took in huge breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth…

  That was it. That one phone call sealed the deal. Nine years of her life were done with; her marriage was officially over. She was going to be single. No, worse! She was going to be a divorcee!

  She groaned and leaned her head against the wall. She just needed a moment. Scratch that, she needed alcohol, a lot of it, but she still had work to do. Not that she’d probably have a job after being outdone twice on the stories of the weekend by E! and Action!

  Her editor had already been on the phone half a dozen times that weekend demanding to know how Geek Chic could have had a reporter right there, yet not get the scoops first? Paige had tried to remind the bitch that she wasn’t actually a reporter; she was a critic, there to review the event. But the other woman was having none of it.

  Paige’s life was just falling apart around her.

  She pushed the palms of her hands to her eyes and reminded herself she would not cry as the sting of tears prickled.

  She would get through this, she would be stronger, happier… homeless, jobless, husband-less…

  ‘Fuck,’ she whispered.

  ‘Well I wouldn’t say no,’ the British voice drawled from behind her. ‘But I’m afraid I have a meeting to be in now. How about afterwards?’

  She turned around at the unexpected interruption to her moment of angst and internally cursed.

  Great, now Casey McManaman—and some woman she didn’t recognise—were bearing witness to the lowest moment of her life. She thought she’d hit rock bottom thirty seconds earlier.

  If it wasn’t for her damned job—she would finish this assignment regardless!—she’d have skipped the actor’s Meet and Greet. While she was a huge fan of Destiny, she thought Casey was a complete dick. The man thought he was a walking, talking James Bond type, all smooth, suave, and sophisticated, when—in reality—he was just a sleaze-ball, a womanising pig. Why the hell couldn’t the rest of the world see it?

  Well, they did. But for some bizarre reason, they loved him for it. Women everywhere threw themselves at him, all sure they could tame the wild thing, turn the bad boy good. Why the fuck did so many women fall for that bullshit?

  ‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

  ‘I—’

  The door to the meeting room swung open and the room manager popped his head out. Again.

  ‘Thirteen!’ he called, merely addressing her by her ticket number. ‘You need to get in here right now.’

  ‘I was just—’

  ‘Whoa, mate,’ Casey interrupted her. ‘Back off.’

  The room manager gasped at the sight of the star. ‘Mr. McManaman I didn’t realise—’

  ‘I don’t care if you didn’t know I was here, the fact you’d snap at someone like that? Dude, not cool.’

  Paige rolled her eyes and huffed at the waves of testosterone in the air. It might have been sweet if he hadn’t just offered to get in her panties. But, as usual, she didn’t need a white knight riding to her rescue, thank you very much.

  ‘Put your dicks away,’ she told them. ‘No one wants to see them. I’m done.’ She stepped towards the door and watched with a smidgen of satisfaction as the manager hurried backwards, holding the door wide for her—well, for Casey, but she still counted it as a win. She needed every teeny-tiny win she could get.

  She marched straight to the refreshment table, ignoring the other VIP attendees across the room, all scowling at her lateness, never mind the fact that the star they were all here to see hadn’t arrived until now.

  ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ Casey’s British accent murmured quietly in her ear as he came up behind her. She nodded, refusing to turn around, and cracking open one of the bottles of water lining the table. The star leaned around her, his arm brushing hers as he reached for a drink of his own.

  She turned her head to look at him, to tell him to move back and out of her space, but stopped short when she saw the genuine concern on his face.

  ‘If you need a few minutes—’

  His words were cut off by the shattering of the windows in the room. Glass rained down on the VIPs and room management, as an explosion filled the air. Paige instinctively flinched, ducking down and covering her head with her arms, as the shards fell and the other attendees screamed in pain and fright, taking the brunt of the shrapnel.

  ‘Get down,’ Casey said as he pushed her to the floor and under the refreshment table.

  Paige turned as Casey scrambled underneath with her and watched in horrified silence as the woman he had been with in the corridor ran from her position by the VIPs. A chunk of the ceiling fell and smashed onto the top of her head. She went down like a rag doll. The woman had barely hit the deck when the floor beneath the attendees disappeared, the room collapsing in on itself.

  Casey wrapped his arms around Paige’s shoulders, pulling her head into his chest and holding her tight, as the waterfall of masonry rushed past and they were plunged into darkness.

  As the dust slowed and the building creaked around them and settled into its new design, Paige asked, ‘What the fuck just happened?’

  3

  Drip-drip-drip.

  There was water dribbling somewhere. He couldn’t feel any on his arse or his back, so they weren’t sitting in it. It probably wasn’t an immediate threat.

  Creeeak.

  Shit, he didn’t like the sound of that; whatever that was could be a problem. Was it the table above them, giving way? Was it another part of the room that hadn’t already crumbled and was about to go? How close was it?

  Tap-tap-tap.

  Tiny stones dropped down, somewhere to his left. It sounded as if they were dropping from one level to another; that meant there were gaps in the wreckage, so there was the potential for oxygen to get to them. They weren’t going to run out of air…

  Casey opened his eyes, but the view didn’t change. He couldn’t see his hand in front of his bloody face—although to be fair, he wasn’t actually holding it up. But the point still stood. A blackness, far darker than anything he’d experienced before, consumed them. He knew that without sight, his other senses would be compensating, noises may sound louder, he may think them nearer…

  Crick-crick-creeeak. Scratch-scratch.

  It didn’t sound like the table giving in, but he couldn’t figure out what it was.

  Would that be preferable, though? The table collapsing on them, crushing them to death, or dealing them a quick blow to the head like Tanya had taken—

  Fuck. Tanya…

  The moment the windows had shattered, he had reacted to her constant reminders, the training she’d drilled into him over the years. Get low, get covered, get safe, then watch for her. He’d had to employ this on four occasions before today—three had been his own fault—and she’d always reached him. He’d never imagined there would be a time when she wouldn’t. He certainly hadn’t thought that he’d witness her death.

  The image of that huge thick chunk of concrete dropping on Tanya’s head, smashing her to the floor…

  He shuddered. He thought he’d rather starve or die of dehydration—he’d pass out well in advance, right? Maybe not. If he was squished, it would probably be quick, he’d feel it for maybe a second or two.

  ‘Do you think they’ll find us soon?’ The woman’s voice was unsurprisingly quiet. He didn’t want to speak just in case his voice caused the rest of the building to come crashing down on him.

  It was a good question. Did people think they were already dead? Would they bother to look for someone with an entire hotel block on them? You did hear about people being pulled from fallen buildings after earthquakes or bombings… Shit, was this a terrorist attack? Would they be spending time looking for the bombers rather than them, or other survivors? Were there any others?

  Had
his friends got out? Were any of them trapped like he was, or worse… were they dead?

  The building groaned around them, and Casey wondered if perhaps the dead had it better; listening to every noise as if it were his last was going to send him crazy.

  Another creak and Casey squeezed his eyes closed and pulled the woman tighter, waiting for the table to split or… something. But nothing happened, only the echoing sounds of a few more stones dropping somewhere filled the ongoing silence.

  ‘I’m sure they will,’ he finally replied, amazed at how confident he sounded.

  The woman tightened her arms around him, holding him to her. He shifted her up on his lap and tucked her head under his chin. She was a tiny little thing; he’d noticed that out in the hallway earlier, not much over five foot, if at all, but with a pair of boobs Barbie would have been jealous of… and that arse! Tight, pert, a gentle curve at the bottom of her back. It had been that backside that had made him stop in the first place.

  She’d been leaning her head against the wall, her rear sticking out slightly as he’d turned down the corridor. He’d thought all his Christmases had come at once. When she’d stood up and he’d realised how petite she was… He’d always had a thing for smaller ladies, loving how big he was next to them, how protective he felt he needed to be. Tanya always said he had an alpha complex…

  He stroked her back as she snuggled closer against him, and wound the other hand into her curly, fiery-red hair. He hoped he was giving her at least some level of comfort and not making her feel worse. Perhaps if he focused on her, he wouldn’t think of where they were stuck and what was really awaiting them.

  Paige was not a superstitious person. She wasn’t the slightest bit religious. She felt there was something out there; God, karma, energy, a super-giant alien; she wasn’t sure, but life was not just full of coincidences. So, she held off thinking that her day couldn’t get any worse, as whatever it was, it was clearly pissed off with her enough already. She certainly didn’t want it to get any worse because there was only one way it could.