Page 19 of Chandelier Enthralled
Now, cornered by fate, I had no choice but to unveil a truth that might leave me lonelier than ever.
There were just too many secrets to juggle, and the one I had to protect tonight was the owner of that BMW.
I crossed the road and walked toward the beach.
When I reached the lifeguard tower, I tried the door. Inside, the air was thick with salt and the scent of sunscreen, the room cluttered with weathered chairs and safety manuals. A mannequin, its mouth agape, lay on the ground waiting for someone to save it.
“Don’t look at me, buddy,” I mused. “Can’t even save myself.”
From this view, the sand stretched out toward the crashing waves, their hypnotic rhythm competing with the squawking of seagulls, shattering the quiet.
Not a bad place to spend the night. Me, and the helpless mannequin, two hollow figures empty of souls.
Ihad only stayed at Cameron’s one night but was already feeling more peaceful. Cameron’s spare room was a sanctuary, with a bed so comfortable that sleep came effortlessly.
But now it was time to head out—I’d grab a coffee on the way.
In the foyer, I peered up at that grand crystal chandelier wondering if my mind was playing tricks. It sure did look phallic.
Or maybe I was just in a crazy head space.
In the full-length mirror, my reflection looked well rested, and I appeared confident in my pale blue Chanel suit and heels. The silk blouse fit perfectly, and the delicate clutch in my hand was big enough to hold my phone, a pair of car keys and a lipstick, completing the look. I was ready.
“Heading out?”
I jolted from the surprise.
Cameron strolled toward me in that elegant way of his, hands in pockets, an intrigued look on his face. My brother’s genius was a gift to our family, but that same brilliance turned daunting when he came for me.
Cue a million questions.
He walked up to me. “You look great, Willa!”
I straightened my skirt. “Thank you.”
“Who’s the interview with?”
“We’ll talk when I get back.”
“This is not New York. We have a greater presence here. You need to wait for your escort.”
“Security detail,” I corrected him. “An escort is a high end—”
“Yes, thank you, I’m aware.”
We both grinned.
He’d arranged for one of Shay’s people to lurk everywhere I went. I was trying to sneak out without them.
I pointed past him. “They can’t go into my interview.”
“They’ll wait outside.”
“Doyouhave a security detail?”
“When necessary.”
“Tell them to hurry up or I’ll be late.”
