fangirl 01 - an unconventional meeting Read online

  A muffled set of voices spoke over the phone for a moment, before Marc advised her the fire department had arrived and he had to hang up. He hesitated a second, then quietly said, ‘Please look after him. I—’ Ellie heard him take a shaky breath and she imagined him composing himself. ‘He’s all I have.’

  Fuck. The man was a roller-coaster, she had no idea which way he was going to turn next, only that she’d best be prepared; it would be fast either way.

  ‘Of course,’ she replied before the line went dead.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Marc paced the small bit of lobby he’d been given and waited nervously for his son. They hadn’t allowed him up to the floor where Tyler would be climbing out, no matter how much weight or money he’d tried to throw about. The firemen needed space to work; there were security risks associated with Marc’s presence, blah, blah, blah.

  He ran his hands down his face as he stopped pacing and tried to ignore the whispering fans who hung around. He felt their curious eyes on him as they tried to fathom why he was there in broad daylight for all to see, and why he wasn’t trying to hurry away from them as he usually did.

  Frank, Jake, and Adam made an imposing team and easily kept the fans a good distance away. Jen hadn’t removed her phone from her ear since the Ashley fiasco and Sonya was busily screaming down hers at people left and right—over what, he had no clue. He prayed to God it was to get him out of this contract, getting him off the show. That was going to sting her, but he hoped that after fifteen years of working together, that she’d understand, and that she wouldn’t fight too much when he told her he wasn’t just taking a break. Truth was, he no longer wanted to act.

  At all.

  Ever.

  The security guards’ walkie-talkies crackled, but this time one of the guards responded. Marc froze. Was his son okay? Had he managed the climb-out? They hadn’t been able to lower the elevator due to a mechanical fault with the brakes, and the fire department deemed the contraption inoperable. Instead, his son had been forced to climb three floors in a dirty, dark, damp shaft without his father. He would have been terrified without his papa, Marc reasoned and vowed to never put his son in such a situation again. In fact, Tyler was coming out of preschool and returning to location with him. They’d all know about his son after this; Tyler wouldn’t be safe in LA without him, even with a nanny and a minder.

  ‘They’re coming down in the elevator now, Mr Matthews,’ the security guard told him. He nodded his thanks and, with the help of Jake, Adam, and Frank, moved towards the roped off lifts. He watched eagerly, forgetting about the crowds around for the time being, as the numbers above the lift’s doors began to descend from twelve to one. The ping of the lift sounded; Marc’s heart beat a fierce rhythm as he held his breath.

  His son was a sight to behold when he finally appeared, dressed in an oversized fireman’s jacket and helmet that he had to constantly push back onto his head, as it kept slipping over his eyes. Tyler held the hand of a dishevelled version of the woman he’d met earlier, the same woman who’d watched over his son not once, but twice now, and whom he had utterly destroyed in front an entire hall full of strangers. The woman who had stood up to him, who’d had no fear of putting him in his place, of showing her disapproval of him and his actions. Who had run her mouth when he—

  God, he wanted to kiss that mouth. Devour it. He wanted to push her against those lift doors and grind his—

  ‘Papa!’

  Tyler squealed in delight as he caught sight of Marc standing there. His son’s cry and the gasps from the crowd at the little boy’s call to his father completely dampened any desires Marc had felt. It spurred him into motion as he pushed the rope barriers out of the way to get to his boy.

  Security be damned!

  Tyler pulled Ellie with him towards his father, as he tried not to trip over the borrowed jacket. Marc could see Ellie trying to tell Tyler to slow down, but Marc didn’t want him to; he wanted his son, now!

  The star fell to his knees as soon as he was close enough, enveloping his son in a tight hug. He pulled him in as close as he could, knocking the helmet to the floor in the process. Relief finally washed over him, the stress of the day departing, and he felt the tears come. He buried his face in his son’s neck to hide his reaction from the crowds as they burst into applause.

  He couldn’t help it; he knew it was silly as it had only been a few hours since they’d had their lunch together. He knew Tyler hadn’t been kidnapped, hadn’t been held hostage, hadn’t been hurt. He knew they’d spent more time apart than this due to his filming schedule, but—on this day—his son had been in trouble and he hadn’t been able to get to him.

  ‘I’m okay, Papa,’ Tyler whispered, his tiny hands trying to pat where he could reach on his father’s back, hindered by the enormous jacket covering them. He didn’t need to be able to hear to know that Marc was crying; he could feel the shudder of his father’s sobs of relief throughout his tiny frame. ‘Papa, I’m okay,’ he tried again.

  ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ Marc pulled back just enough to look at his son’s face and sign to him. You’re not hurt? There were smears of dust and dirt across Tyler’s forehead and cheeks, but his son’s eyes were bright with excitement and delight at the adventure he had just taken. He certainly didn’t look hurt.

  His son shook his head. I’m not hurt, Papa, Ellie helped me again.

  At the mention of Ellie, Marc lifted his head and saw her looking down at the two of them; she didn’t even attempt to hide the smile she had on her face. He could see she was worn out, knew that the day had been a challenge for her too and that he had been mostly to blame for that, but still she gave him her smile. He returned it, wiping at his damp eyes.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said as he stood up and without thought pulled her into his arms. She was a line of warmth as he crushed her to him and whispered his thanks over and over. He felt her stiffen against him for a moment before softly returning the hug, her arms gently sliding around his waist. He felt her hands slide up his back and he had a brief thought of what they would feel like against his naked skin as they—

  He pulled back abruptly as he felt his cock twitch at his thoughts, he felt his face turn red and cleared his throat to speak.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said again as he pulled Tyler tightly against his leg, to stop himself from drawing Ellie back into his arms, in order to kiss that mouth. Her blue-grey eyes softened and her cheeks turned a rosy shade of pink that he found incredibly attractive.

  ‘Don’t thank me,’ she said softly. Carefully she signed her next words for Tyler to understand, ‘He wouldn’t have run if he hadn’t seen me.’

  Yes. Marc turned to his son. I’m so mad at you for that. But I’m also very happy that you’re okay.

  ‘I’m sorry, Papa.’ The boy dropped his eyes. ‘I shouldn’t have run off.’

  We’ll deal with that later, but I want you to know that I love you very much.

  I love you too, Papa.

  Ruffling his son’s hair, Marc turned back to Ellie.

  ‘Have dinner with me—us—tonight?’ he offered without thinking. ‘I’d like to thank you for looking after Tyler. Not just in the lift, but yesterday too.’

  She began to speak, but the crowd surged and Frank interrupted them.

  ‘Marc, we’ve got to get you out of here now.’

  Marc nodded, hauling Tyler up into his arms.

  ‘I have to go,’ he said. ‘But please come tonight. I’ll send someone.’

  She opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it. After a moment of hesitation, she bit her lip and nodded. Marc smiled softly at her before being swept away by his security detail.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  If Ellie had been exhausted before the lift incident, afterwards she was dead on her feet. Her meagre exercise routine of a daily walk of the Hollingbrook estate had certainly not prepared her for a three storey climb up the ladder of a lift shaft. She had collapsed in a heap the moment her bed was
within reach to catch her.

  She looked into the mirror and stuck out her tongue at her reflection. She was still so tired and had planned on grabbing another hour or two of sleep, but Marie had refused her.

  ‘You don’t get invited to dinner with a celebrity every day!’ Marie stated as she’d pushed Ellie towards the bathroom.

  ‘Marie, we have plenty of dinners with famous people,’ she’d retaliated, reminding her friend that they had met a fair few royal and political names over the years they’d worked for Lord Hollingbrook.

  ‘But not on par with Marc Matthews!’ Marie had cried, grabbing a towel and throwing it towards a dumbfounded Ellie before she switched on the shower.

  ‘Are you going to friggin’ wash me too?’ Ellie remembered snapping, when she’d pulled the towel off her head.

  When she’d finally got out of the bathroom—making up for the lack of time she’d had that morning—Marie had blown dried and pinned up Ellie’s hair. Mallory had then toddled in and helped with her make-up, and the two of them demanded she wear a dress his Lordship would have approved of for one of his own evening meals.

  But looking at herself now, it just didn’t feel right. Marc’s messages had said they were going to be dining in his suite, not out at a restaurant. It was dinner, not a date.

  She snorted at the thought. God, how many fantasies had she had of that scenario before she decided he was a total tool? However, now that she had seen that there was a different side to him, a softer one that focused on his role as a father, she had to admit she’d had a couple of stray thoughts of what it would be like to be part of that little dynamic.

  There was one, in particular, a vision of a lazy Sunday morning, their legs tangled in sheets as they read the papers after making love. Tyler would run in as the sun rose higher, and he’d jump on the bed to demand they get up to make some sort of American breakfast—pancakes or waffles.

  She shook her head free of the thoughts and assessed her wardrobe with a critical eye. She’d brought mostly jeans and casual tops, with shoes to mix and match—things she was comfortable in. She’d only shoved the dresses in her luggage at Marie’s insistence for the evening parties—not that it seemed they’d be attending any, at this rate!

  She decided Marc could take her as she was, as she tugged down the zipper of her dress. Just as she ripped off her tights, there was the knock at the door she’d been expecting.

  ‘Just a minute!’ she called out as she pulled on her black jeans. A teal top with a white peter-pan collar was donned next, followed by nude strappy sandals with a generous heel.

  She took the pins out of her hair and scraped her fingers through it, so it tumbled freely about her shoulders, falling in soft waves. Her make-up was still a little heavier than normal for her, but it sufficed, she decided, with one last check in the mirror before opening the door.

  ‘Hi, Frank.’ She greeted the bodyguard warmly; he was becoming a rather familiar face.

  ‘Miss Roscoe,’ he returned in his New York twang. He dropped his eyes to take in her appearance. He looked mildly surprised but was polite enough not to comment. ‘Mr. Matthews awaits.’

  She nodded and closed the door behind her. Marie and Mallory had gone to the other girl’s room for a girlie night, and Ellie was under strict instructions to return there for a debrief after her meal.

  ‘Can I ask you a question?’ she tried as they waited for the lift.

  ‘You can ask; I might not answer.’

  ‘Where’s Tyler’s mother?’

  ‘Well, you don’t pull any punches do you,’ the man scoffed as he ushered her into the lift. Okay, maybe that had been too big a question to start with. Something simpler, perhaps?

  ‘Fine, why does he hate his fans?’ The bodyguard simply raised an eyebrow at her and pushed the button for level ten. He didn’t answer that either, and while she tried to engage him in general small-talk on the way to Marc’s room, the man was like a wall, not at all the big friendly bear she’d met the previous morning. Ellie figured it was probably part of his job not to disclose anything personal about his boss, but she wondered would he have been more willing to talk if Marie had joined them?

  She sighed as they stepped out of the lift and contemplated exactly what the night was going to be like; would Marc be as disdainful as he’d been to her in the panel or would he edge toward the warmth he’d started to show on the phone? Would Frank be as silent as he was now? Well, that wouldn’t be awkward.

  Caught up in her musings, it took a moment for Ellie to realise Frank had stopped a few steps from the door he’d said was their destination.

  ‘You’re not joining us?’

  Frank’s jaw twitched as he considered her for a moment, his eyes hard and assessing, taking in her face, then her body.

  ‘There a reason he’d need protecting with you?’ he finally asked as his eyes met hers again. The man may associate with actors all day, but he certainly hadn’t acquired the skills of one. Something seemed hidden within his words, something made her think he was asking about more than her ability to physically harm his boss; what that was, she had no clue.

  ‘No. Of course not,’ she answered, finally.

  ‘Then I’m not needed. I’ll just see you in safely.’

  She made to knock, her eyes still on her escort as she wondered what it was he was wasn’t saying, when the door opposite Marc’s swung open and a tirade of screaming engulfed the hallway. Ellie spun around to face the commotion and Frank snapped to attention at the unexpected action. His hand moved to push back his jacket and Ellie caught sight of a firearm tucked away. Her eyes went wide with fright; she instinctively dropped to the floor, her arms over her head and face buried between her knees.

  ‘—Survive without me! Fuck you, Linda!’ Luc Truman, his back to the two of them, stood framed in the doorway screaming back into the room. The familiar timbre of her favourite star caused Ellie to look up.

  Luc turned, stepped out the room and slammed the door shut behind him with such finality that the frame rattled. He charged past, barely sparing them a glance as he headed for the lifts. Ellie swore the star wore a red mark across his face and made to comment on it to Frank, as he offered his hand to help her back to her feet. But she thought better of saying anything; his look was enough to silence her. You never saw that. You mention it and I’ll ensure you never say anything again.

  With a shaky nod to the silent threat, she straightened herself up, knocked on the door and hoped nothing else would surprise her this evening. Today she’d had enough of them, thank you very much!

  ‘Coming, coming,’ she heard from within the room. A moment later, Marc opened the door.

  Her eyes widened, dropping to his very bare chest; it was glistening with lingering water as if he’d jumped out of the shower when she knocked. He was dressed in only his jeans, the button undone and Ellie’s eyes followed the dark trail of hair that started at his navel and travelled down beneath the zip that threatened to spill all its secrets. That, together with his bare hip bones, made it clear the jeans were all he wore.

  Heat flooded her face and, slowly, her eyes followed the line of his slightly toned body, and back up. They lingered on his lips and she wondered what that mouth would feel like on her own, sucking and nipping at her lower lip before his tongue plunged and took all he wanted.

  Fuck, she wanted that.

  She ran her tongue over her dry lips as she thought of his arms around her, his lips trailing a blaze over her bare skin, his body crushing hers… Would he bite? Would he mark her up to show the world he had claimed her? Her breath caught, and she forced her eyes up to meet his.

  It had to be her fangirl mind, she decided. The many years she’d spent reading and writing fan fiction and inserting herself into the tales she wove because there was no way the desire she was feeling, that wanton need to have him push her against the wall and just take what he wanted, was reflected back in his eyes.

  ‘Come in,’ he said, his voice roughe
r and deeper than she ever recalled hearing it, but he didn’t move. She was about to take a step, one that would put her right into his personal space, when—

  ‘Papa? Is it That Lady?’ Tyler’s sleepy voice came from within the suite. She heard a snort from behind and realised Frank was still there, that he’d been standing there the whole time. Her entire body stiffened and she felt her cheeks flame red in embarrassment.

  Bastards.

  It was probably a routine for Marc when he had a nanny to take care of his son. He probably had a stream of women lined up to warm his bed, all willing to keep quiet for a hefty pay-out after the fact. She wrinkled her nose in distaste at the thought. Perhaps that was why he had such disdain for his fans; he found it easier to get them to spread their legs for him, if they felt they had cracked his hard exterior, wormed their way into and then warmed his cold heart. Well, she certainly wasn’t going to be one of his bimbo call girls that was for sure, she told herself as Marc bent to pick Tyler up.

  No, definitely… not. She licked her lips as she watched the play of muscles across Marc’s back, as he settled Tyler against him. No matter what the throb between her legs demanded otherwise.

  ‘With all the excitement on top of missing his nap, he’s utterly exhausted,’ Marc said as he turned back to her. He said it so casually, it was as if nothing had passed between them just moments before, that they hadn’t been about to devour each other in the middle of a hotel corridor. Ellie blinked at the instant transformation in the actor as Tyler waved at her lazily. She signed back absently and Marc finally stepped back to allow her to enter. As she closed the door behind her, she threw a glare at an amused Frank.

  She followed father and son into the suite and found herself in a large, spacious sitting area with floor to ceiling windows, a vast TV on the wall, two armchairs, a large couch and, behind that, a table set for three. But what made her pause in her step was the fact he had a bar in his suite. A bar. Fully stocked. Bloody hell!