I grimaced. “I don’t know for sure. Sue told me someone destroyed my dressing room and that security and the execs were on their way over to check it out.” Heart racing, I glanced over at him. “Do you think this could have been…him?”
“I don’t know, baby. Call that Kirtner guy and have him meet us over there,” he instructed. Once he was on the road and I had my phone to my ear, he grasped my free hand. The way he gave it a reassuring squeeze kept me calm while I explained what was going on to the detective.
“You said it’s your last day of filming?” Kirtner asked after I told him everything I knew.
“Yes.”
“Maybe this guy is spiraling if he won’t have such easy access to you every day,” he mused. “It could make him more dangerous, Miss Stevenson. I’m only a few miles from the studio. I’ll see you there.”
Spiraling? What the fuck did that mean?
Shivering, I clutched at Jordan’s hand as he changed lanes. Before long, he was pulling into my usual spot at the studio after being waved in past security. With his hand on my hip, we entered the building, and immediately, I saw that the place was in complete chaos.
Several people tried to stop me along the way, but I ignored them as we headed straight for my dressing room. A group of people was milling outside the room, with a member of security standing guard to keep them back. I heard loud, muffled voices coming from inside and pushed through the crowd to s
ee what was going on.
Detective Kirtner was already there, standing in the middle of a group of executives in their expensive suits. My gaze skimmed over them, my jaw clenching when I spotted one particular man, but I pushed down my annoyance. Just because he was there didn’t mean I had to speak to him.
The security guard tried to stop me when I would have entered the room. “No one is allowed inside,” he informed me and started to put his hand on my arm.
“Back the fuck off. Touch her, and the last thing you ever see will be my fist in your face,” Jordan snarled at him, causing the man to flinch before he stepped out of the way.
Jordan’s loud voice had the group inside my dressing room turning to watch us. I walked in, my gaze traveling around the space. Everything was turned upside down. My mirror was shattered, the little vanity under it broken down the middle. The small chair that once sat in front of it was across the room, sticking out of the window. My couch was turned over, with the cushions spread around the room. The few personal items I’d kept there had been destroyed and scattered on the floor.
As I walked, my heels crunched on the broken glass of what used to be a bottle of my favorite perfume. The light floral scent filled the air overpoweringly, giving me a headache. Or maybe that was because my pulse was suddenly throbbing in my temples as my fear escalated.
“Is there something you want to tell us, Arella?”
My head snapped around at the almost accusatory tone in Winston Cline’s voice. Winston had overseen my drama, so I’d worked with him more than the other executives. He was a man in his late fifties with a slightly pudgy middle and a comb-over that didn’t fool anyone. Not even his five-thousand-dollar suit could distract from the fact that he looked beyond ridiculous with the way he styled his hair.
Squaring my shoulders, I lifted my chin and glared at the man down my nose. “It would seem I have a stalker. Big whoop. Everyone gets them.”
“Yes, but you should have informed us so we could have boosted security and kept them alert. Not only was your safety in peril but that of everyone else on the property.”
Remorse filled me, and my shoulders drooped. “You’re right. I apologize. It was selfish of me not to consider the safety of the others.”
“Relax, Winston, you fucking bag of hot air.” I stiffened at the sound of his voice, my hands balling into fists at my sides.
I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.
“If she didn’t think it was something to worry about, then she didn’t do anything wrong,” he continued. “No one was harmed, so relax and leave the girl alone.”
That Garon Steel was defending me blew my mind, but it didn’t soften me in the least toward the man who was my uncle in name only. He wasn’t like Uncle Shane or Uncle Jesse. Not even like my honorary uncles, whom I adored. I despised Garon more than any other human being in the world. It was already making my skin crawl that I was in the same room with him, breathing the same air. But his voice was so similar to Pop-Pop’s that it made my heart ache.
As if sensing my distress, Jordan touched my back. Just the feel of him, knowing he was so close and that I didn’t have anything to fear as long as he was with me, helped me relax, and I finally looked at Garon. His brown eyes, so much like my mom’s, were guarded as he met my gaze. But for a moment, he seemed to take in how close Jordan was to me, and I saw a flash of anger cross his face.
It was there one moment and gone the next, making me think I’d imagined the whole thing, but it still left me uneasy, and I stepped closer to Jordan.
“Detective Kirtner, did you find anything?” Jordan asked.
“Unfortunately, no,” the man said, his eyes traveling dispassionately over the executives. “By the time I arrived, there were too many people in the room and the crime scene was completely contaminated. However, based on how destroyed this place is, I would say the stalker is escalating.” He shifted his gaze to me, and I softened. “Miss Stevenson—”
“Call me Arella,” I interrupted. “Please.”
He gave me a grim smile. “Arella, then. At this point, I think it is better to err on the side of caution and employ personal security.”
“I’ll think about it,” I lied. There was no way I was going to tell my sister about any of this. Nevaeh would freak out and blab to our parents, causing them to freak out in turn. And there was no way I could go to Barrick and Braxton and expect Brax not to tell my sister about this. He would never keep something like this from her, and I wouldn’t expect him to.