Page 32 of Fame And Secrets

Chapter Twelve

Phoebe

I refused to be treated like a five-year-old by anyone, especially the man I was supposed to marry. My worries had been blissfully blank for the few minutes of passion we’d shared. He was a constant burning ember, and one drop of gasoline ignited into a raging inferno of lust.

Most of our fights ended in sex. Every aspect of life with Julian was full throttle. In those few precious moments, lying in each other’s arms, open and exposed, I always knew understanding could be found at the base of our connection. My body responded with an open invitation and offered itself for his taking.

At the top of the staircase, I stopped, wondering if he’d followed me, but I knew I’d given him no reason to. Why the hell would I go to North Carolina? My sister’s home wouldn’t be any safer than LA. In fact, it felt like returning to the scene of the crime—going from the frying pan into a vat of boiling acid. Why couldn’t he understand the danger wasn’t stationary? Moving wouldn’t remove the problem. The problem was me. I could move to Timbuktu, and all females in Timbuktu would be in danger. Wherever I resided, so did the threat.

Or was it as simple as his fear of me going into labor. If so, why didn’t he just ask Ryker to stay with me? There weren’t any more tour dates until after my due date. Julian had demanded it. All that remained were publicity junkets he and Zane could handle alone.

I admitted to being stubborn, but he still hadn’t given me a valid argument for his irrationality.

I sighed and entered our bedroom, needing a shower to clear my head. Stepping out of my maternity skirt, I kicked it to the side and rounded the corner to the bathroom. I fumbled for a towel on the rack behind the door.

Nothing.

Shit.

I knew there were clean towels in the guest room bathroom, and I muttered ramblings of hiring a housekeeper as I turned the corner. Fumbling again with the light switch, my toes dipped into warm, wet carpet.

What the hell?

Finally connecting with the switch, I quickly flipped it on and glanced downward. Slightly moving my toe to the right, I smeared it into a red horizontal line.

Blood.

My eyes burned a trail from my foot to the bed. Huge splotches of red scattered across the white carpet. A tattered yellow scarf draped across the floor, twisted into knots. My blood pressure rose as a gurgle started low in my stomach and worked its way up my throat.

Holding onto the doorknob, my knees wobbled, and the room started to spin.

Oh god. Breathe…breathe. Not again.

With everything spinning out of control, I did the only thing I could think of.

I screamed.