Page 35 of Breaking Free

Cindy chuckled. “She can come across as cool, unapproachable, and often indifferent, but I’ve known Sheryl forever. She’s always honest and up front. Let me talk to her and see what we can figure out.”

Although her agent seemed confident of a positive outcome, Piper couldn’t help but worry that they would saythanks but no thanksto a wet-behind-the-ears actress making demands.

Luckily, she had a closing at 2 o’clock. Reviewing fifty pages of legal documents, making sure every “sign here” red flag and “initial there” yellow tab was in place was a welcome distraction. Her backup job took her mind off her potential career-ending move, and the closing went off without a hitch.

On her way home, while battling the afternoon sun and rush hour traffic, Cindy called with the news.

“I’ve secured some stipulations. Since this is a streaming service, they’re going for an adult audience,” she advised. “No news there. Would you object to a bare back, a glimpse of thigh and cheek, a tiny bit of ass crack, and side-boob only? Sheryl wanted to argue, but I told her your decision had to be respected and gave the impression we’d pass without rejecting it outright.”

She showed that much skin at the pool and on the beach, less maybe the bit of crack. “I think that’s an acceptable compromise. What did she say?”

“Yes. Of course. The new contract should arrive by courier this evening.”

If she wasn’t in bumper-to-bumper, stop-and-go traffic, Piper would have jumped for joy. Instead, she put herexcitement and gratitude for Cindy into words. “You’re amazing. I really appreciate you going to bat for me.”

“You’re welcome, but it is what you pay me for. A percentage of this next Netflix runaway hit, starring Piper Emory—your parents picked a great stage name, by the way—will help pay my daughter’s Ivy League tuition bill.”

“Let me guess. Harvard?” Teasingly, she dropped the Rs for Hs.

“Worse. Columbia! In the middle of Manhattan, making it the most expensive of them all.”

Piper whistled, imagining the hefty price tag. “Glad to be of help.”

“Same here. Call any time. Ciao, for now, darling.”

And just like that, she was back to beingdahling. With her worries set aside, Piper smiled all the way home.

Before parking, she turned into the small circular driveway and stopped at the cluster of mailboxes. It had been a few days since she last checked her box. When she opened the small door, she found it brimming with sales papers and a pile of envelopes—all bills, most likely.

“You’re a gainfully employed actress now, so no problemo,” she boasted to her windshield as she drove on, even though her first paycheck was weeks away.

When she pulled into her assigned space, she noticed Tristan’s truck was parked two spots down. It was massive. How could she miss it? Her excitement waned slightly as she stared at the gleaming black vehicle with tinted windows. He wasn’t usually home at this time of day. She hoped her streak of good luck would continue, allowing her to navigate the courtyard to her door without another tense encounter, especially after their latest unpleasant exchange.

Carefully balancing her briefcase, purse, and the hefty pile of mail, she emerged from her car. The warm, humid breeze pulledstrands of hair from her bun, whipping them across her face. Piper tilted her head, hoping the breeze would rid her eyes and mouth of the tangle, but was only partly successful as a handful of strands stubbornly clung to her lipstick.

Using one raised finger, which was all she had free, she peeled them off her lips. She must have loosened her grip because an envelope slipped from the pile then another. The more she fought to hold on to them, the worse it got until they cascaded to the ground and began scattering in the wind.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” she muttered, trapping some beneath her feet before they escaped. The sales circulars were a hopeless cause and rolled like tumbleweeds across the parking lot. As she bent to gather what she could before the rest scattered, one plain white envelope caught her eye. It was devoid of postage and a return address, with only her first name printed on it in black ink.

Filled with an instant sense of dread, she dropped her purse at her feet and stuffed what mail she had retrieved inside it. Positioned between her car and the one beside it, which blocked the wind, she broke the seal on the mysterious envelope.

The message inside was written in the same cramped scrawl as the first.

From bibbed overalls and pigtails to painted-on shorts and nude scenes in front of the entire world... Who is the real Piper Emory? Gullible farm girl or casting couch slut. I love a good mystery and intend to uncover the truth.

The only time she’d ever worn bibs and pigtails was back home last fall on a hayride at the local corn maze with a bunch of her friends. Those pictures were buried on her Instagram page. Finding them so many months back would take a lot of scrolling.

Her page wasn’t private as a wannabe actress trying to develop a following. But she was careful what she posted online, especially since moving to LA. She never revealed the places shewas going or anything about work. But he’d learned about her audition. What else could he mean by his crack about the casting couch and nude scenes in front of the world? But how the hell did he know the script called for nudity? Dear heaven, had he been in her house and seen her script?

As the horror of that sent shivers down her spine, realization suddenly dawned. “Oh my gosh,” she gasped with rising panic. “This isn’t Tristan or just some crackpot; he’s a freaking stalker.”

Her heart pounding, Piper rose to her feet and scanned the parking lot for any sign of the creep. Then she sprinted to the stairs and dashed to the top. The keypad took forever because she kept looking over her shoulder and entered the wrong code twice. When the light finally flashed green, she raced through the gate, her only thought getting safely inside.

As well-crafted plans often do, hers went awry when a murky figure materialized in her path at the same time the metal gate slammed shut. Too late to stop her momentum, she let out a blood-curdling scream as she collided with the shadowy but very solid shape. It cut off abruptly when her briefcase crashed to the ground with a bang, and her heavy purse, slung over one shoulder, pulled her backward. She flailed her arms, sure she’d be flat on her ass in a second and vulnerable to her attacker. An arm encircling her waist kept her upright.

“Piper, what the hell?”

She lifted her gaze to Tristan’s face, never more relieved to see his ever-present scowl.

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