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“It’s not like that,” I protest. “It’s a picture of me and Vincent, which means he’s still only watching Vincent. I just happened to be there.”
“Show me the picture,” my mother insists, holding her hand out toward my dad and motioning with her fingers for his phone. “Right now, Mike. I know you’ve got it even though it was sent to Liv. I want to see it. Now.”
Dad grumbles but dutifully pulls his phone out of his inner pocket, brings up the picture, and turns it over to my mom. At first, the only thing I see on her face is surprise. Her brows jump, her eyes widen, and then there’s a small flicker of a smile before the reality of what she’s staring at hits her.
“Someone was following you.” She breathes. “The stalker?”
She glances up at my dad, and they exchange a worried look. I know exactly what it’s about too. That situation with the band’s former manager, Joe, got way out of hand back in the day. My mom and dad both remember it like it was yesterday, and I know that’s what they’re thinking about because I grew up hearing the stories about it.
Dad even got shot while trying to take him down. Mom has told me so many times that she’s never been that scared in her life, but now, as I watch the fear creeping into her eyes, I know if she’s not quite there yet, she’s close to being that scared again.
“You’re not leaving the hotel until we know who’s doing this and they’ve been apprehended,” she says firmly.
Dad lets out a soft snort. “That’s exactly what I said. When we move on to our next location, you and Vincent will get into the cars in the basement parking lot. We’ll keep you completely out of sight for now, and while we’ll let you move about freely inside the hotels, provided that we can secure the places properly, you’re not to leave.”
“Agreed,” Mom says. “Although, you might want to consider staying out of the public spaces within the hotels. No going to whatever restaurants or bars there might be in any of them.” She wrings her hands, her eyes dark with worry. “Camille is going to want to cancel the tour.”
“We’ll talk to them about it.” He glances at the grandfather clock in the corner of my room. “Speaking of which, we should get going. When the show ends, we need to be there, and getting through the traffic is going to take some time.”
He looks back at me. “Regardless of what Vincent chooses to do with this information, you’re staying put, young lady. You can keep working and keep the assignment you’re on, but you’re doing it from the hotel. Mom and I will be back to check on you later, but I’m putting Anderson and a few other bodies on your floor until then.”
“Yes, sir,” I mumble, knowing I’ve got no other choice right now. Plus, I wasn’t planning on going out tonight again anyway, but there is one other thing he should know. “Vincent and I were out earlier planning a surprise anniversary party for Jonathan and Camille. The deliveries are probably coming in as we speak.”
“I doubt anyone is going to be in the mood to party once this gets out,” Dad says. “Thanks for telling me. I’ll have it taken care of.”
“Please stay here, my darling,” Mom implores. “I would say that you can come with us if you’d like, but Daddy and I need to speak with Jonathan and Camille in private. They won’t want you or Vincent there while we’re trying to figure out what to make of the situation.”
“Don’t worry, Mom,” I say, finally managing a smile as I pull her close for another hug. “I won’t go anywhere. You guys go do what you need to do. I’ll be right here when you get back.”
“Good,” she whispers in my ear. “When we do get back, I’m coming right here, and then you and I have talking to do about a certain kiss that I’m going to need to know all about.”
My cheeks flush bright red, and Dad frowns when he sees it, but it’s obvious that he didn’t hear what Mom said.Which is good. The only thing more mortifying than him seeing the picture would’ve been him hearing that Mom wants me to talk to her about it. In detail.
As they leave, though, the embarrassment fades and leaves disappointment in its place. For the first time, I feel like not even my father is taking me seriously. While I can never know exactly what they went through in the past, I do understand that he’s worried, and I understand why, but I just don’t feel like he would’ve grounded any of his other employees.
Grumbling to myself as I go back to my emails, intent on staying focused on work while we—and I quote—wait for this thing to blow over, I sigh. If I ever want to prove myself, now even to my own father, I’m going to have to make the best of this.
“Watch this space,” I mumble to myself. “I’m going to show you all that I’m not some helpless, hapless duckling who needs to be forced into the ivory tower at the first sign of trouble. I’m a security specialist, and Daddy’s already taught me more than I need to know.”
14
VINCENT
“It was the manager who ratted me out, wasn’t it?” I grind out as Maxim, Mike, and Dad glare at me from the other side of the table.
We’re in Mom and Dad’s room, but there’s no party happening anymore. Someone—I’m willing to bet Mike—has had all the supplies I brought up taken away, and he’s donated the food to some project that feeds the hungry. I mean, at least it’s going to a good cause, but it’s not exactly the cause it was intended for.
Dad growls at me. “Snap out of it, Vincent. It doesn’t matter who told us about the party. They were being a hell of a lot more responsible than you.”
“Why? Because someone emailed Olivia a picture of us kissing?” I scoff. “That’s no reason not to go forward with an anniversary party for you. The two things aren’t even remotely related. Everyone just needs to chill the fuck out about it. It’s not the end of the world.”
The way they’ve reacted—overreacted—to the picture, you’d think it was a shot of one of us getting murdered instead of just kissing.
Maxim rolls his eyes at me. “No one is going to be chilling the fuck out until this guy is out of our lives for good, Vince. A picture of you kissing someone might not be the end of the world, but it’s sinister as fuck that he knew where you were when none of the rest of us did. Just like that night in Dublin. Nobody knew where we were going, but he was there.”
“We don’t know that,” I point out. “You and Olivia both just had a feeling that someone was watching us after the ghost tour. It doesn’t mean it was the same person. Hell, we don’t even know that the person who sent this picture is the same guy who’s been messaging me and spewing shit online. It’s a picture of us kissing. That’s it. It could’ve been sent by anyone.”
“It’s highly unlikely that it’s anyone else,” Mike says in a quietly dangerous voice. “Whoever took the picture knew it was Olivia in it with you, which implies knowledge of the rest of the group and the role she has in it. The fact that it was sent to her instead of you also means something, as does the fact that there’s no message.”
