“Jules—”
Was he a fan? Oh, God. After everything that had happened with Rhys, she’d forgotten about her stalker. Was this him? Was this the asshole who’d traveled from California to screw with her? “I’m on vacation with my family.” She reached behind her for the door as he moved closer. “I’m not alone.”
“I saw the news.” The man angled toward the entry keypad so that she would have to reach beyond him to punch in her code. “You’re better off without Mason Marlow.”
Jules stepped back and bumped against the door. This was her stalker who’d been bothering her for years. Or maybe he was a random person who thought they knew her. Social media had brought her into everyone’s lives. They learned about her movie roles while scrolling in their living room. They read commentsabout her wedding planning while sitting on the toilet. They thought they knew her so well, and she’d allowed it. She’d invited them into her life.
Of course they’d think they could stop by and say hello. They knew the intimate aspects of her life. Maybe he’d leave if she agreed. “I think you’re right.”
Even if she could go back inside her bungalow, she didn’t want to. What if this guy walked in with her like they were old friends having a nice chat?
Jules stepped sideways and hurried down the stairs. He followed her. The sidewalk branched toward the main resort, the beach, and Rhys’s bungalow. She backed toward Rhys without taking her eyes off the man.
He followed her. “Can I have a picture with you?”
“I just woke up.” She hadn’t even put on a bra. They weren’t far from Rhys. All she had to do was get to him. “And this is my family time.”
“You’d have more of that if you retired.”
Her blood ran cold. This was the guy.
Then she noticed the cell phone in his shirt pocket, the camera pointed toward her. Was he recording? “I need to go.” She turned, but he grabbed her arm. “Get off of me.”
Jules jabbed her elbow back, and the man flew off.
She spun to find Rhys.Thank God.
“Go inside,” he growled.
She didn’t wait for him to tell her twice. Jules disappeared.
Chapter Nineteen
Rhys needed coffee before dealing with this headache. He ran a hand through his hair and shut the door behind him. His bungalow was much smaller than hers. The unused rollaway bed pushed near the sitting area made it even smaller. But it was Jules perched on the edge of the rumpled bed, her face distorted in a terrified frown, that almost brought down the walls of this place.
Rhys crossed the space and pulled her onto her feet, giving her an intense once-over. He hadn’t been able to get close enough to catch that asshole before he put his hands on Jules. Logically, Rhys knew she was fine. But he had to touch her. He had to make sure he hadn’t missed something.
His hands cupped her cheeks and moved down her shoulders and arms. He held up the elbow the man had grabbed and found no bruising or red marks, nothing that should bother him as much as he was bothered. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” She didn’t fight him as he rubbed a hand over the arm once more. “Was that him? The guy who’s been bothering me?”
Satisfied that no marks had been left, he released her arm then shook his head. “No. I don’t believe so.”
Disbelief marred her expression. “What? Then who was he? How’d he find me?”
“Sit down a second.”
“Rhys.”
“Let me think.” He paced from one side of the small space to the other, back and forth, again and again, but couldn’t come up with an answer that made sense. “Who knows you’re here?”
“Who was he?” she demanded instead.
Rhys wasn’t sure. He’d only managed to get the guy’s name—Vincent Von Charles, what a name—and where he was from, Saddle River, New Jersey. And that had taken a lot of work to get. Technically, Von Charles hadn’t done anything wrong. Embarrassment was the only reason he’d shared as much as he had. “Work with me, Jules. All right? Who knows you’re here?”
“Everyone. It wasn’t a secret. My family. Close friends. Mason and whoever he told where we were going. Our teams. The travel coordinator. The photogs Sloane worked with. Their editorial teams. On and on. It’s not a small list.”
The list was too large, and nothing made sense. He needed to spitball ideas with Vivian and Dean but couldn’t until he had better intel to work with. “Who knows exactly where we’re staying? There are a dozen little islands and resorts we could have hopped to.”
