Finding Love's Wings Read online

  "I'm not entirely convinced that I want this kept quiet," Tristan interrupts. He starts pacing again and running his hands through his hair.

  "Why in bloody hell not?" He smiles at me then. His smile is warm, almost seductive. I know he likes that expression, but why the smoldering smile? My head starts to swim. It’s no doubt a distraction tactic, and it's working. Dammit. Taking a deep breath, I continue, "Why would you want to let this spread like wildfire? Do you want the world to know that she cheated on you and have your image plastered all over the tabloids under headlines like 'Tristan Michaels Cuckholded' or 'Star of Love is Burning Gets Burned'?"

  For a minute Tristan just stands there, hands in hair, elbows out, almost like he’s going to start flapping like a bird and fly away. Then he takes a deep breath and says, "The main reason I want to see this story unfold is because Layla is in desperate need of help. She's addicted to drugs and her career is going down the toilet quick. Word has gotten out how difficult she is to work with. If she keeps going this way she's going to end up washed up, homeless, or even dead. The only way at this point that I can see to it she gets help is to see everything she knows come to a crashing halt."

  I can't believe what I'm hearing. His girlfriend cheats on him with not just one but several men, and he wants to use his misfortune to get her help. The word selfless comes to mind.

  She's obviously hurt Tristan in a big way, and he's standing here talking about helping her? Is anybody really that unselfish? I can't decide whether to cry or shake him. So instead I bring it back to business.

  "Tristan, are you at all concerned about the effect of this on your own career?"

  "Absolutely not. I don't think you truly understand what the last five years of my life have been like." His voice is raw with emotion. I can see it in his eyes that he is playing with some serious inner turmoil about all of this.

  "You don't like being an actor?"

  "I love acting. With all my heart, Cami. I would do everything and trade nothing for my career, except..." He pauses. I know where this is going.

  "You would happily trade your career for a life free of the fans, the paparazzi, and all of the fame, wouldn't you?" I try hard to smile, but I know the second his eyes meet mine that I'm right. His shoulders slump; they’d probably be on the floor if not for the fact that his spine is keeping him upright.

  I can imagine it: the paparazzi chases, the crazy fans, the inability to have a meal without signing a dozen autographs in the course of a thirty-minute dinner. I don't blame him for wishing it away.

  "So that is why you're here. In Tarah, away from the madness that is Hollywood. Trying to escape and be a normal human being while all this goes down the drain. You haven't told Trinity or even Vincent of what's going on because you want to let it happen, and you know that they will try to squash it. You also know that Bold will do whatever it takes to stop your name from being dragged through the mud."

  "Yup, that about sums it up right there." He finally sits back down in my overstuffed chair. He looks drained, tired. Sadness is radiating from his body and I want to go to him, to comfort him, but before I can get to my feet he says, "I should really go."

  What? No. He can't go yet. I'm not ready. "But...you haven't eaten your breakfast." That's the best I can manage, given my state of confusion as to why he wants to leave.

  "That's all right. I had it billed to my room, so don't worry about it."

  "That is so not the point." I sigh and look away. "If you must go, I understand. But...I really want you to stay. Please?" I can't look him in the eye.

  "I...I...ah..." I look up then. He is looking at me like I have actually taken his breath away. "I'm not sure that is such a good idea."

  "And why not?" I huff.

  "Because." His eyes focus on a spot on the carpet about halfway between us, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Because I'm afraid of what will happen if I stay." He takes a deep breath and changes the subject. "Besides, I should talk to Tyson. Get his take on how I should handle this."

  Ah ha! I got him now. I stand up, turn around, and walk straight to the door. Swing it wide open, poke my head into the beautifully decorated hallway. About two doors down is the gorgeous, well-groomed, muscled-up man with military-short, dirty blond hair that I'd seen in the hall when I arrived on Thursday. His piercing grey eyes are staring straight at me.

  I flash him my best smile. "It's Tyson, isn't it?" He doesn't acknowledge what I've just said, but I continue anyway. "Would you please join us?"

  Just then Tristan comes up behind me and places his hand on the small of my back. A gentle, comforting gesture, but his touch shoots straight through my core and sends involuntary muscle spasms straight to my sex. I try hard to fight against it, but there is something about his touch that is all hot and sexy. My breath hitches in the back of my throat.

  Tristan glances at me with a look of "yeah I feel it too" on his face. I slowly bring my eyes down from his, past his nose, perfect, his lips, full and delicious, to his chin and jawline. His two-day old stubble helps to accent his angular jawline. His neck – I can almost see the blood pumping through his veins. His tight shoulders hidden perfectly under the Ed Hardy shirt he wears. His pecs are equally on display, followed by his abs, though not as defined but still... Right down to the apex of his thighs. A half smile catches on my lips as I take in the fact that his cock is hard as a rock in his swim trunks. Thick, long, and heavy. I can see the outline of it running from his center all the way to his right hipbone. My God, he's huge.

  He chuckles in amusement as my eyes widen momentarily and he realizes I'm staring at his cock. He whispers very quietly, "Now you see why staying is kind of a bad idea. If you keep that up, I am going to take you right here, right now in the hallway, and I don't care who sees, watches, or comes into your room."

  My lips part as hot breath escapes in a rush, my heart rate triples, and my breathing becomes irregular. Suddenly that dull ache between my thighs starts screaming with need, desire. Desperate for his touch.

  It takes me a minute to peel my eyes away from his erection and direct them back up to his. He’s grinning in satisfaction at my heavy, lazy eyes. He knows exactly what he's done to me, and he is taking in pure enjoyment at my discomfort and desire. His eyes are blue. Deep, ocean blue. Warm.

  Meanwhile Tyson hasn't moved. Tristan finally breaks eye contact with me and turns to him. "Tyson, if you would be so kind to join Ms. Enders and myself."

  I look at Tyson then and think I see recognition in his eyes, though I'm not sure if it's name recognition and the fact that I am more or less his employer, or something else entirely. "Yes, sir," he says as he pulls himself away from the wall and starts walking toward us.

  Get your butt in gear and your head out of the gutter, Cami! I scold myself, because all of a sudden the only thing I can think about is Tristan naked between my legs and the two of us between the sheets or on the floor. Enough! I scold myself again.

  "Tyson," Tristan says once we're all inside my suite and the door is shut behind us. "Cami and I were just discussing the news story that's about to break about Layla, and she doesn't understand why I'd want to let this story run." Tyson looks at me and back at Tristan, a question in his eyes. "Relax, Tyson," says Tristan. "Cami is the CEO of Bold and apparently Trinity is on a mission to find me because I've 'disappeared.' I was explaining to Cami about Layla's drug addiction and her sexcapades." He gives Tyson a look heavy with hidden meaning, but before I can ask about it, Tyson speaks up.

  "Layla has a long history of infidelity as well as some more recent incidents with drug use. She's a terrible actor. It's a mystery how she even got the part in the Burning movies, and if the contract had not included all of the movies, she would have been replaced. Now she's trying to use her 'abilities' to get roles and have a longer career in Hollywood. She is on a path of destruction, and she will take down anyone and anything she can manage along the way."

  Tristan looks like he's upset – sick to
his stomach and almost heartbroken. "Okay, that is not news to me. I understand that part of all this mess. But what I don't understand is why do you two look like there is going to be a beeline to one of the two toilets in this suite?" I turn to Tristan, a sudden lump in my throat. "Do you love her?" That does it. He looks absolutely sick.

  It doesn't take him very long to recover, and he attempts to answer my last question. "At one time I did love her. I thought that maybe it was real for both of us. In the beginning, I have no doubt, there was really something between us. Then, we started to argue constantly. We broke up, but before the news was made public, her PR crew at Erickson stepped in and offered both of us money to stay quiet and appear to stay together." He takes a deep breath. He's not looking at anyone, just staring off like he's trying to remember the story. "I knew that it was a bad idea and utterly stupid to drag out a so-called relationship, but Bobbie stepped in. Said to take the money and do what I could to keep the relationship intact. I didn't want to go along with it, but he said that if I lost the 'natural chemistry' I had onscreen with Layla, then I could lose my part. Unlike her, my first contract did not include all three movies. I was new in Hollywood, literally plucked off the streets, and I wanted so badly to be an actor at the time that I listened to him. I accepted the offer, and things between Layla and I got better. For a while."

  "So why not stop the story, save her career?" Even as I ask the question, I'm pretty sure I don't want to hear the answer. "If you care about her, why do you want to see her career destroyed?" I whisper, not trusting my voice completely. I'm trying to wrap my head around what he must be going through, but it feels like a rug is being pulled from under my feet. He loves her.

  "Layla and I started fighting again, constantly, about six months ago. Around the time we finished filming the last Burning movie. With the fights came long stays away from the house we lived in. Then about three months ago, she became needy, begging for me to be around more. So I went back, like an idiot, only to discover that she was using drugs."

  He looks at me, and sadness fills his eyes. There is something behind this drug-use thing, something that pulls at his heart. While he ponders what he will say next, I vow to find out what secrets hide behind those beautiful blue eyes.

  "This is not my mess to clean up and I refuse to argue and fight with her and her PR team about it." He looks at me. "Plus I refuse to pay out god-only-knows how much money to silence a story of this magnitude. This was one of the other reasons why we were fighting the other night. She knows that it's within my power to get this story squashed, but I told her that I refuse, and I stand firmly by that choice."

  I’m beginning to sense that the love he once felt for Layla is no longer there. No doubt he cares about her; after spending five years with someone, regardless of circumstances, I would think him selfish if he didn't care at least a little.

  My heart soars, warmth spreading throughout my body. If he's free of Layla, then his reasons behind the drink last night become obvious. He really does want to know me more. Well, he did before the whole Bold business came into play.

  Oh for crying out loud, what the hell is my problem? I barely know this man. Yes, ok fine, I have been staring at his face and his eyes for years, feeling a connection with him that I cannot even begin to describe. A connection through pictures? Seriously? Yup, it is official: I've lost my marbles. All of them. There is not even a hint of a rattle in my brain right now.

  I look at Tristan, who is looking at Tyson, but his eyes keep darting in my direction.

  "Okay, but that still doesn't explain why you guys are acting so cagey," I say.

  Tyson is staring straight at Tristan. Then Tyson shrugs, and I look back at Tristan.

  "Well?" I’m losing patience.

  Tristan sighs. "Cami, I'm honestly not sure I'm ready to have this conversation with you. Or with Trinity, Vincent, or anyone else for that matter. When the time comes, I'll pull everyone together and tell you all. Right now, I'm here in Tarah, waiting for the shoes to drop, and when they do, I would rather be here than in Hollywood." He takes another deep breath, and color is slowly returning to his face.

  "All right, Tristan. I will respect your privacy on this, just this once. Only because it's obvious to me that whatever this is is very important to you." I make a concerted effort to let this go for now. But there's still the matter of Trinity. "Now. What are we going to do about Trinity?"

  Tyson breaks the silence. "I think the best that we can do at this point is warn Trinity of what's coming. She needs to prepare for the onslaught of phone calls and issues that can arise from this story. She'll know where he is," – he nods in Tristan's direction – "but at least he can continue to be here, privately, away from prying eyes and the good old photographers.”

  "Fair enough. Am I calling Trinity, or are you going to call her, Tristan?" Personally I don't really care who calls who and who does what; it just needs to be done. Now.

  "Tristan?" Tyson prompts.

  "I'll call her. Cami, does she know where you are?" Tristan looks at me, and I'm surprised to see that his eyes are soft and warm, almost adoring.

  "She knows – or thinks – I'm in Tahiti. Mick and Beau, my two best friends, know I'm here in Tarah and that I have no intention of leaving anytime soon. I have my own demons to deal with for a while." Oh boy, is that ever the understatement.

  Tristan's expression warms as he realizes that I truly have a purpose for being here. "Mick and Beau?" He raises his right eyebrow at me. If I am being honest, the innocent look on his face is pretty cute.

  "Mick is my financial advisor. Beau is my money spender, personal assistant, and best friend. They will probably be coming out here sometime next week. Beau and Mick don't work for Bold, so you don't need to worry about them. Right now you just need to worry about what you're going to tell Trinity."

  PART TEN

  Cami is watching me intently. I get up and grab another cigarette from the pack of Camels she's left on the table. Jesus, what a mess this is turning out to be. I came here to escape Layla and all her bullshit, but that sure didn't last long. She doesn't say anything, but I gather that she knows how hard this is on me. Lighting the cigarette, I turn and head back to the chair. Cami slides the ashtray toward the chair and gives me a hesitant smile. This is not at all how I envisioned meeting someone, throwing half of my life story at her in a single hour-long conversation.

  I retrieve my cell phone from my pocket and turn it on. No doubt as soon as I do this, Trinity's team is locking onto my signal so they will know exactly where it is that I'm hiding.

  As soon as the BlackBerry loads up, I start receiving emails and missed call notifications. I'm almost tempted to listen to my voice messages.

  "Apparently I'm a wanted man," I say aloud.

  "Why do you say that?" Cami asks.

  "One hundred and seven missed calls." I scroll down my missed call log. "And only a few are from people who truly care. The rest of them are from people that are just trying to cover their ass. Layla and her crew have consumed my call log." I frown. I didn't want this Layla mess to come before Cami, or anyone else for that matter. It makes me feel weak, as though I can't handle a situation, and I don’t want to seem weak in front of Cami; she deserves so much better, both from me and from anyone else she has to deal with. "Regardless, what is done is done." I pause and stub out my half-smoked cigarette. "It's time to call Trinity."

  "Are you sure you're ready to do that? I can call her if you want me to." Cami's tone of voice is all business again, but something in her warm, steel blue-grey eyes tells me that she is trying to protect me, whether from Trinity or from Layla, I'm not entirely sure.

  "No, Cami, this is a battle that I need to deal with." I am cut off by the ringing of Cami's cell phone. I look up as Cami frowns. Her eyebrows pull together as she pushes a button and brings the phone to her ear.

  "Hi, Trinity."

  I, of course, can't hear the other end of the conversation, and Cami seems to read my
mind.

  "Trinity, hang on for me." As she says this she brings the phone down and hits another button. "Trinity, can you hear me?"

  "Yes. Why am I on speaker phone?"

  "Because I don't care to have the phone to my head. Now what's going on?" Cami says.

  "Well, we were finally able to pick up a signal from Tristan's cell phone," Trinity says.

  Cami rolls her eyes. It's actually kind of comical the way the color of her eye disappears altogether. With a sly smile and a slight chuckle, she tells Trinity, "You and Mick should go into the tracking business. That didn't take very long, considering he only just turned it on. I'm assuming that you're calling me, instead of Tristan, because it was traced to the Tahiti area, where I just so happen to be, am I correct?"

  Trinity laughs. "How do you know that he only just turned it on?"

  "Because I'm looking right at him." She smiles at me, her steel blue eyes warm and liquid. "Ironically, he happened to step into my suite as I cut you off from our last phone call. As strange as this sounds, he bought me a drink last night with no clue who I was. So it's all worked out for the best."

  Trinity burst out laughing. "Apparently Tahiti is the place for the wealthy-in-hiding. Good morning, Tristan."

  "Hi, Trinity." My voice is deadpan. I'm not really sure how to handle the whole situation, nor how to tell Trinity about it. I guess I just have to jump into it. "Listen, Trinity, I would imagine that here at some point today or tomorrow you're going to start getting massive amounts of phone calls from our favorite little magazine."

  "I had a feeling," she says as she lets out a deep sigh. "Does this have anything to do with why Layla has been blowing up my and Vincent's phones?"