Risk Taker by Sonia Stanizzo
Chapter 6
The next morning, well, Holly couldn’t officially call it morning until the sun shone through the windows, and the time on her phone said it would be thirty-six minutes before she saw any golden rays. A sharp pain stabbing her neck prevented her from going back to sleep. She rose off the couch. A couch designed more for decoration than comfort with its timber frame and hard leather cushions. She bet Ethan Doyle had a better night sleep than she did. The nerve of the guy to demand his bed.
She stretched and glanced around the dim room. The torch on her phone helped her located the guest bathroom. There was no way she was using the one in the bedroom he was sleeping in.
With nothing to change into, she put her skirt and heels back on and stayed in Ethan Doyle’s t-shirt. Surely, he wouldn’t miss it. She couldn’t do much without toiletries, so she washed her face with hand soap, finger-combed her messy hair and popped two mints she had in her bag into her mouth.
Tiptoeing through the apartment, she found the kitchen. She would have killed for a coffee from the shiny, silver machine that looked like it had come from a high-end café but made do with water. A glass jar of chocolate chip biscuits sat on the counter. Her stomach growled with hunger and she helped herself to a sugary treat. With nothing more to do, it was time to go home. Noticing a notepad and pencil on the fridge, she tore off a page and scribbled Nancy a note thanking her for her kindness and promising to return the t-shirt just in case Ethan Doyle called the police and reported her for stealing. She grabbed another biscuit for the road, wrapped it in a paper towel she found on the bench and put it in her bag. She quietly let herself out of the apartment.
Once outside, the colours of pink, purple and orange smudged the morning sky. Holly shivered in the chilled breeze, thankful for the small amount of protection the t-shirt offered. A lot better than her skimpy gold bra. Her bra she didn’t recall seeing in her bag this morning while freshening up. She rummaged through her purse in search of the top. Crap, she must have left it in Ethan Doyle’s room. There was no chance in hell she was going back to get it. Oh well, no great loss. It wasn’t like she’d need it again. No more fancy-dress parties for her.
Her outfit was far from decent even without the bra and fishnet stockings. She still looked like a sex worker after a long, hard night on the streets. There was nothing she could do about it. She needed to find the closest bus stop, detour past Declan’s place to get her stuff so she could change into something appropriate and go back to the train station.
She’d go home and take up her position with Ainsworth Hotels again. Needing to get away from Oliver, she’d quit her job. Her parents had given her six months to get over the breakup and return to the business. A business that was built with Ainsworth blood. Every descendant from her great, great grandfather had worked for the hotel chain. They made it clear she’d dishonour and embarrass the family if she didn’t return. The company shares and money that went with it when she turned thirty were only be available to her if she worked for the family business.
Guilt and family obligation lay heavy on her shoulders at the threat. They couldn’t really go through with it, could they?
She pulled her phone from her bag and clicked on Google maps. The nearest bus stop was a fifteen-minute walk. Glancing at her already abused feet from wearing stripper heels for hours last night, she took a deep breath and prayed she’d make it without rolling an ankle.
It took thirty-five minutes and three cars pulling up alongside her propositioning her for a ride before she arrived at her destination. Men in suits with gold wedding rings wanting an early morning quickie before they headed off to work. Pigs.
The graffitied bus shelter and the steel bench seat never looked more appealing; her feet throbbed like crazy. Sitting on the cold metal, she was tempted to take off her shoes and rub them, but decided against it.
By now, the coloured sky had lightened to a soft blue with a sprinkle of white puffy clouds and she was grateful for the warming temperature. She pulled the cookie from her bag and waited. In fifteen minutes, it’d be back to her old life.
* * *
Ethan stared bleary eyed at the coffee dripping into his mug. He’d been out of bed for ten minutes and already onto his second cup. He’d only had a few hours’ sleep and with a full day of shooting, he needed to inject the caffeine into his veins to function. The lack of sleep was due to a small-part actress. He froze his arse off not having a quilt on the bed.
He liked the way she’d stood up to him and not backed down when he’d asked to know why she was staying with his mother—not many people did that. The sass as she pulled the covers off the bed and left the room, taking them with her, was kinda cute too. With the chill in the room, he’d given up on any chance of going back to sleep, and got out of bed.
Before he headed for the kitchen, he took a detour into the living room ready for round two with Holly. He enjoyed their verbal sparring match last night.
A neatly folded quilt sat on the couch and a pillow was propped on top. A note left on the kitchen counter confirmed she’d left. Disappointment tugged at his gut as he read her goodbye.
“What are you doing here so early?” his mother entered the kitchen and greeted him with a peck on the cheek.
“My house was preoccupied last night, so I thought I’d crash here to get some sleep.” Maybe he should’ve stayed at his place, probably would have gotten more hours even with all the noise.
A shadow of concern crept over his mother’s eyes. “Aiden had another party?”
Ethan nodded before sipping the hot brew.
“I know it’s been tough on him, and he’s hurting like crazy. God, it’s been tough on all of us. We loved Maddy and miss her terribly, but he can’t keep burying his grief in alcohol. It’ll destroy him. He won’t listen to his family. What more can we do for him?”
Ethan wished he knew. It was the same question he asked himself every time he searched for his brother in Aiden’s dim eyes and hadn’t come up with an answer.
“Chloe went to visit him on set last week and he’d gone missing,” his mother said. “No one had seen him after his break. She said the director was furious.” His younger sister had phoned to tell him what had happened.
“Anyway, I can’t think about that now. I’ve got a full day on and I want to see Holly settled before I get to work,” his mother said.
“She’s gone.” Ethan slid the note she’d left across the counter for his mother to read.
Her shoulders slumped. “That poor girl can’t be walking the streets dressed like a hooker. Who knows what trouble she’ll get herself into?”
“The clothes came from wardrobe. Why’s she still wearing them?” Actually, come to think of it, she was still in costume when he’d gone into his mother’s trailer last night. He’d been too busy checking out her legs to wonder why.
“They weren’t from wardrobe, they’re her clothes,” she said, then pulled out two bowls from a cupboard and poured in cereal.
“Her clothes?” he said with confusion. “Why would an actress wear her own clothes on set?”
“She’s not an actress.”
Ethan choked on the coffee he’d just swallowed. He coughed and thumped his chest to clear his throat. “She really is a sex worker? Why would they cast a real one? And why would you let her stay in your home? Who knows what she’s taken off with?” God, he’d been lusting over a woman who would charge him by the hour for the things he’d fantasied about. He never had to pay anyone for sex, he had several willing women he could go to.
“Do you really think she looks like a prostitute?” His mother slammed the carton on the counter and milk splashed over the rim. “She was checking out the set and Trudy mistook her for missing hooker number three. She’d been to a fancy-dress party, that’s why she was dressed like that.”
“Why the hell didn’t she tell anyone she wasn’t an actress? And how did this get past Trudy? She knows who gets hired for the roles.” Not being an actress explained Holly’s lack of acting skills.
“I’m not sure why Trudy didn’t notice. Maybe she was just as keen to have filming finished for the day like everyone else and turned a blind eye. Holly told me before going on set. After she recovered from the shock at seeing you, and Trudy throwing her into makeup, she explained what had happened.”
“And you didn’t think to mention it to anyone?”
“We were already behind schedule. Everyone was getting frustrated. She was dressed for the part… Trudy didn’t notice…” She shrugged. “It all worked out.”
It may have worked out, but Holly messed up his brain. Hopefully, now that she was gone, he’d forget her. But he still wanted to know how she ended up at his mother’s house. “Why the hell was she staying here? When I asked her last night, she’d told me to talk to you.”
“You saw her last night?” She perched on a stool, the cereal forgotten.
Actually, she’d seen a lot of him! “I didn’t know she was staying in the guestroom. I came to crash here because of the noise at home. The room was dark, so I didn’t see her in bed and went straight to the bathroom to have a shower. She walked in on me.”
His mother smothered a giggle with her hand. “She walked in on you naked? What a surprise for her.”
A surprise for both of them.
“You haven’t told me why she was here,” he said.
“She needed a place to stay for the night.”
“That’s what she said, can you elaborate?” The vague answers these women gave frustrated him.
“You should ask her.”
“I did,” he sighed. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” Just let it go, why did he care? His mother could do whatever she pleased. As long as she wasn’t in any danger, he’d stay out of it.
“How was sleeping on the couch?” his Mum asked, giving his shoulder a rub. “It couldn’t have been comfortable. You’re too big for it.”
He adverted his gaze and poured milk into his bowl, “I… arrhh…slept in my bed.”
“You slept with Holly? In my house? Oh, Ethan.” She placed a palm on her forehead like she had a headache.
“I didn’t say I slept with Holly. I said I slept in the bed. She took the couch.” He paid special attention to stirring the cereal in the bowl.
“What? Have I not taught you any manners?”
“I was joking when I told her the bed was mine. She left all in a huff with most of the bedding before I could stop her,” he explained.
“You probably scared her away.”
Scare Holly? She didn’t appear like a woman who scared easily. Last night, while leaving the guestroom, she looked ready to spit fire.
After he finished his breakfast, he went back to the guestroom to freshen up. Something gold caught his eye peeking from under the bed. Bending down, he pulled it out and a bra dangled from his fingers.
He shoved it into the pocket of his trousers. A memento of a little firecracker.