Page 18 of Stalked By the Pilot

"Look," Thomas continues, oblivious to my inner turmoil, "we ride out this storm by steering into it. Own the narrative. Maybe even a sit-down with a sympathetic interviewer?"

"Sympathetic?" I scoff. "The media sharks are circling, Thomas. They smell blood."

"Then we'll give them chum instead," he retorts, but I can hear the uncertainty in his voice.

I'm about to argue when my phone buzzes. Hope surges, but it's quickly dashed as the screen shows nothing. No messages from Ben. Just the glaring emptiness of a silent digital void.

"Excuse me," I say abruptly, pushing away from the table. The walls feel like they're closing in, the strategies and words like invisible chains tightening around me.

Ben

I’m outside Kate's hotel suite. Desperation claws at me with steel talons. My phone, once a lifeline to her, now just a useless piece of tech in my hand. I've called, texted, hell, I'd send a carrier pigeon if I thought it would reach her.

"Sir, you can't go up there," one of the guards warns, stepping into my path. His uniform is crisp, his face set in an expression meant to intimidate.

"Watch me," I growl, my own determination a force to be reckoned with.

"Sir, please—" he starts, but I'm already past him, taking the stairs two at a time. My heart is hammering, pounding with the same rhythm as her name in my head.

Kate, Kate, Kate.

Her door looms before me, imposing and unyielding. I ball my fist and knock—no, bang—on the wood with all the strength of my fear and longing.

"Kate! Open up! It's me! Ben!" I shout, my voice echoing down the opulent hallway.

"Dammit, Kate," I mutter under my breath, "please be there." The silence on the other side of the door is a chasm, widening with every second she doesn't answer.

"Kate!" My call is a mix of plea and command, my knuckles reddening against the polished surface. If love has a sound, it's the thud of a desperate heart against the barriers we build. And right now, my love is the loudest damn thing in this entire hotel.

I ram my fist against the door again, ignoring the sting, and then?—

"Ben?" The door swings open. Kate stands there, her honey-colored hair a halo of disarray around her angelic face. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to reach you," I pant, chest heaving from the sprint up the stairs, gaze devouring her in her silk robe that hugs her curves just right. "I've been trying for days, Kate."

"Days?" Her green eyes widen with confusion. She steps back, allowing me entry into her private sanctuary. "But I thought...I didn't get any calls. No texts. Nothing."

"Exactly." I storm in, spinning on my heel to face her. Her vulnerability hits me in the gut, but it's her next words that knock the wind out of me.

"Ben, I thought you changed your mind...about us."

"Changed my—" My hands ball into fists, a growl rumbling deep within my chest. "Never."

Her eyes drop to the floor, and she wraps her arms around herself as if bracing against a chill only she can feel. "Then why didn’t you call," she murmurs, almost to herself.

“I did!” I tell her adamently.

Just then, Marilyn walks in, her face falling when she sees me. “Ben? What are you doing here?”

Kate and I turn toward her, and then it all clicks into place. The surprise to see me…the guilt is written on her face plain as day.

"Are you the one who’s been keeping my calls and texts from Kate?" My voice is a sharp edge, slicing through the thick tension.

Kate turns to her agent with wide eyes. “Marilyn?” she asks her, the betrayal already creeping into her voice.

Marilyn looks down before she says adamently. “I was only trying to protect you, Kate. I thought if you thought he’d moved on, you would too…”

“So you just watched me crying? Knowing all along that Ben was trying to contact me?”

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