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Cecilia opened a door that led down a dark set of stairs. Reluctantly, I followed her to another hallway. All the doors were shut, so I had no clue what was behind them. Finally, Cecilia stopped and faced me, her hand reaching out to knock on the closed door to her right.
“It’ll make sense soon. I’m just glad I don’t have to worry about you anymore.”
Her grin widened when a man’s voice echoed from behind the door. “Let her in,” he called out.
Cecilia pressed the handle, and the door opened wide. “Go on,” she ordered. “He’s waiting for you.”
I walked into the room, and she shut the door behind me. Everything was dim, but I could see six movie-theater sized chairs and a big screen on the wall. In one of the chairs at the front was a man; I could see the top of his head.
“I’m honored to have you in my home, Peyton.”
He stood and when he turned around, I gasped in shock. I knew exactly who he was. The man was a legend in Hollywood, one of the biggest movie producers in the country. Everyone wanted to star in his movies, and I knew plenty of women who’d slept with him to get the opportunity.
“Martin Fairchild,” I said.
He had the same gray eyes as Cecilia. And that was why I thought she looked familiar; she was his daughter. I couldn’t believe I didn’t see it before. I’d beaten her out of numerous movie roles.
Martin smiled and placed a hand over his heart. “You know who I am. It looks like I’ve done something right.”
I stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Or something completely wrong. You kidnapped Ethan and me.”
Martin waved me off. “You’re safe and you’re fine. My intention was never to hurt you.”
“What about Ethan?” I countered. “What is your intention with him?”
It was so hard to keep my dinner down. My whole body was stressed to the point I thought I’d break down and cry, not just out of fear but anger as well. I wanted to know that Ethan was okay, that there was a way to keep him safe.
Martin flourished a hand down to the front two theater seats. “I’ll get into that soon. Right now, I just want to talk to you. Give you a little backstory as to why you’re here.”
Answers were good, only I was afraid I didn’t want to know them. There was no one else in the room and it made me uncomfortable being alone with him. He was a known womanizer and had probably slept with hundreds of girls my age. He had to be in his fifties, just like my parents.
Slowly, I made my way down to the front and sat in one of the seats. Martin took the other and stared at me, his gray eyes twinkling in the dim light.
“You are so beautiful, the exact image of your mother.” The world knew who my mom was, but there was a familiarity with the way he said it.
“What do you know about my mother?”
He sighed and looked over at the screen, almost as if he was reminiscing. “I wanted to work with her a long time ago. I thought she’d make a great actress.” His expression turned dark. “Ultimately, she chose your father and her fighting career.”
“And let me guess, you didn’t like that?”
His head jerked my way. “Honestly, no. I thought she was wasting her potential. She had a face for the big screen, just like you. I would’ve given anything to have her.”
My back stiffened. When Ethan and I were taken, I thought it was Nikolai Michelson’s doing, but now I wasn’t so sure. This was something completely different.
“The texts? Was it you?”
His leer broadened. “Did it scare you? It would’ve been more poetic to do the letters and black roses like Rage did with your mother. That guy was a nasty piece of work. I was glad your father put an end to him.” My mind felt like it was going to implode. There were too many connections, and I couldn’t get my brain to work.
“How do you know all of that?”
Martin grabbed the remote that was on his armchair. “I was there when it all happened, Peyton. And now I’m going to let you see it.”
He lifted the remote and the screen came to life, the lights dimming even more around us. When the video started to play, the first image was of my mom. After that, it was just clips of her walking into her apartment or working out in the gym with my uncle Matt who was training her at the time. The sick bastard had stalked her, and she had no clue. My stomach clenched with disgust; I was almost afraid to watch what else was on the video.
“What do you know about your mother’s time at the Dark Side?”
I watched a clip of my mom opening her apartment door and reaching down to pick up the black rose and letter left for her.
