“Zahara.”
She faced him, shaky with rage. “He. Fired. Me. He fucking fired me, what did you think he was going to do?”
“I…” Shock flattened his expression. “No. He can’t.”
“He can and he did.”
“I…I…” he sputtered. “I didn’t think—”
“Exactly. You didn’t think. And now I have no fucking job.” The realization ripped at her self-esteem, her pride, her independence. “How am I supposed to take care of a child with no job, Chase?”
It was all she could do to keep from yelling at the top of her lungs.
“I’ll take care of you,” he told her. “You don’t have to worry about money.”
The words shed an ugly shadow over her, a child in the dark with a monster. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d heard one of her stepfathers say those exact words to her mother.
“You haven’t been listening to me. Not only won’t I allow you to take care of me, I don’t want you to take care of me.” She stabbed a finger his direction. “This is exactly why I stay out of relationships. You had no right to fuck with my job, Chase. None.”
“I wasn’t trying to.”
“From the moment you found out I was pregnant, you’ve wanted me to stop working.” She faced him, arms out to her sides. “Well, you won. I’m off the movie. Even better, they aren’t sure they’ll use me for future movies.”
He covered his face with both hands and swore. “Jesus, Z—”
“You didn’t just hijack my job, Chase, you put my entire career in danger. You took away my personal power and my professional security.”
Trembling with anger, frustration, shock, loss, she started past him toward the door. He reached for her arm, and she jerked away. “We’re done, Chase.”
“What? No. No, we can’t be done. We have a baby coming. We’re a family.”
“Once the baby’s here, we’ll work out visitation. But there’s no family here. Families trust. Families support. Families protect. Y
ou and me… We’re done.”
15
Chase watched Brendon Carson’s house in the Hollywood Hills from his rental car across the street. He’d been sitting so long, his ass had gone numb.
Brendon had finally returned home ten minutes ago. Chase checked his phone again. He’d give the guy five more minutes to settle in before confronting him. He closed his eyes and imagined how this would go. He’d keep it clean and simple—stop harassing Lila, or he’d go to the police and the press.
If Lila wasn’t going to do the dirty work, Chase would. He was two weeks out from finishing the film, and before he could make things right with Zahara, he’d have to get this mess with Lila cleared up.
The thought of Zahara made Chase’s heart hurt. He wanted to call her again, ask if she would see him while he was in town. But he’d already left her a message to tell her he’d be here and that he wanted to see her. She hadn’t responded. Since she hadn’t returned any of his messages over the last two months, including those he’d left directly with Jax, Chase was sure she wouldn’t respond to any. Period.
Chase took a steadying breath and got out of the car. He looked at the house a long moment, preparing for the inevitable pushback he’d be getting from Brendon. Lila’s claim of Brendon owning a weapon snuck into Chase’s mind, and his heart took one extra hard beat.
Not a problem. Chase would keep this simple, straight forward and non-confrontational. As non-confrontational as a threat could be. Once this was done, he’d stop at Lila’s set on his way to the airport and see how she liked being confronted on home turf.
On the front porch, Chase cleared his throat, took one last breath, and knocked.
The sound cracked his confident façade. The last time he’d made a bold move, he’d gotten Zahara fired. The last time he’d made a bold move, he’d lost her.
But the front door opened before he had sufficient time to worry, and Brendon stood in front of him. He was wearing shorts, T-shirt, bare feet, and a carefree expression. That pissed Chase off. He’d been fucking miserable, and this guy looked relaxed and happy.
“Can I help you?” His Australian accent came across clear and warm. Still, nerves tingled up Chase’s spine.
“I’m Chase Layton, and I’d like to discuss your wife, Lila.”