Tommy pulled up to a surprisingly unassuming home and parked in the drive.
“What is this place?”
“A secret hideaway. Only now that you’re here, I guess it’s not such a secret anymore.” Madison glanced over her shoulder and shot him a look he wasn’t quite sure how to read.
He didn’t want to flatter himself into thinking she was flirting, because it wasn’t that, or at least not entirely, though her expression was unmistakably warm, bordering on intimate. Well, they’d shared a moment. He supposed it was an acknowledgment of that. Either way, he was done deciphering her every move. From this point forward, he planned to sit back and see what unfolded.
The house was remote, with no visible neighbors, which made sense for someone who guarded their privacy as much as Madison. Still, from the pictures he’d seen, the LA house was the stuff of fantasies. It seemed strange to want to escape from a place that represented everything she’d worked so hard to achieve.
Then again, Madison was a true star. Instead of griping over the price of fame, she’d accepted the inevitable and found a temporary escape from the pressure.
She swung the door wide, silenced the alarm, and invited him to follow. He blinked at his surroundings. The space was nothing like he’d expected, even though he hadn’t known what to expect.
The ceilings were lined with thick beams, and the dark wood floors were occasionally interrupted by woven jute rugs. In the den, he found an ivory linen couch, a set of leather club chairs, and what looked to be an original fireplace made of hand-smoothed plaster. Through the French doors just beyond, he could make out a charming garden terrace filled with lanterns, a long table, and a hammock lilting in the breeze in the far corner.
“California ranch chic.” Madison watched him survey the place. “What do you think?”
He turned with a start. While he’d been checking out the property, she’d removed her disguise, leaving her long dark hair tumbling over her shoulders as her violet eyes flashed on his. She was skinny and injured, and her makeup was heavy-handed, but at the moment, it was clear why Madison Brooks was the biggest star in the world. She radiated something that continued to thrive despite whatever had happened to her.
The look she gave him was so intense it set him off balance and left him wondering if she’d guessed at his thoughts. “I think it makes for a nice getaway,” he finally said, forcing a crooked grin to his face.
She glanced around the space and nodded in agreement. “But now that you’ve seen it, I guess I have no choice but to sell it.”
“You’ve never brought anyone here?” He understood the need to be alone, but it seemed strange not to share such a place.
“No one I wasn’t one hundred percent sure I could trust.”
He met her gaze. “So, no one then.”
Motioning for him to sit, she went to grab a couple of beers.
Tommy wasn’t sure he should drink. He was exhausted from the drive and hadn’t the slightest clue what she had in mind. But when Madison emerged from the kitchen, handed him a bottle, and plopped onto the couch beside him, he figured a little blunting of the nerves might do him some good.
“Last time we shared a beer, things didn’t turn out so well for me.” She tapped the bottle to her lip and stared thoughtfully.
“Same.” He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, then hesitated before placing the beer on the table.
“You’ve got old-school manners. I like that. But this is a coaster-free zone, so . . .” She placed her own beer directly on the table and gestured for him to do so as well.
She was trying to make him feel comfortable, and while Tommy appreciated the gesture, he was hoping to move on to the discussion they needed to have.
“So.” She shifted her body toward him. “What now?”
Tommy eased back against the cushions. “Way I see it, it’s my turn to interview you.”
She leaned her head back and stared up at the ceiling. Then, without warning, she rose to her feet and extended a hand he was slow to take.
“What’s this? What’s going on?”
“Only one way to find out.” She wiggled her brows.
Grasping her hand in his, he followed her down a hall to a large room at the end.
“I think you’re going to like this.” She grinned as she swung the door open.
Tommy stood on the threshold. One thing was sure: Madison never failed to surprise him.
“It’s a combination training room slash rage room.” She slipped inside. “Have you ever seen one?”
Tommy shook his head and ran his gaze around the space. The floor was covered in wall-to-wall rubber that gave slightly under his step. Three of the walls appeared to be heavily padded, while the fourth consisted of badly dented drywall. In a far corner hung a large punching bag, along with an assortment of boxing gloves, paddles, and bats. A shelf stacked with cheap porcelain plates completed the theme.
“This is my favorite way to de-stress. Much better and far more effective than more illicit activities.”
Tommy shifted uncertainly. How much built-up anger did a person have to possess to even need such a place?
“You should try it.” She shot him a knowing look.
Tommy waved a hand. “That’s okay,” he said. “I’m good.”
She peered at him so intently he cringed. “I’m guessing you accepted the beer not just out of politeness but to also take off some of the edge from what’s turning out to be kind of a messed-up day.”
He shrugged. She might be right, but he was under no obligation to admit it.
“Are you actually going to pretend you’re not angry at me for hijacking your Rolling Stone interview?”
He turned on her.
“The interview was real. I simply got lucky and decided to take advantage of an opportunity that was presented to me.”
His mind raced to catch up with her words. “I stood up Rolling Stone magazine?”
She handed him a bat and took a step back.
He gripped the handle and glared. “You sure you want to give me this right after admitting that?”
She lifted her shoulders. “People always have the capacity to surprise.”
Their eyes met.
“Go ahead,” she urged. “Show me how mad I’ve made you.”
Tommy pressed his lips together and tightened his grip. He really was mad. Actually he was angry in a way words could never express. Once she’d confirmed her true identity, he assumed the interview was faked too. Discovering it wasn’t left him enraged, and there was no telling how Malina might react.
His shoulders tensed. From the corner of his eye he glimpsed Madison’s face. She looked pale, fragile, tragic, and vulnerable. But in her gaze, he caught a glimmer of unmistakable excitement.
Facing the padded wall, he swung the bat so hard a loud whack reverberated throughout the room. His biceps juddered in response, and his pulse raced as a rush of endorphins coursed through him. He longed to do it again, but with Madison watching, he lowered the bat to his side. “This is fun and all, but we need to talk. You have a lot to explain.”
“I do,” she agreed. “But not until you’ve worked through your anger. C’mon,” she chided. “I know you can do better than that. What’re you so afraid of, Tommy? This isn’t just a rage room. It’s a safe room.”
Tommy hesitated, torn between looking foolish and smacking the hell out of that wall until he felt better. He closed his eyes, squared his shoulders, and widened his stance. The first swing had felt good, the second even better.
He swung again. And again. He swung for Detective Larsen, the paparazzi, for the faceless douche who’d slashed his car tires. He swung for every hater who’d sent a death threat. He swung for Trena Moretti, who dragged his name through the mud in a bid for higher ratings. He even swung for Layla because he liked her, and she drove him crazy in ways both good and bad. And because deep down inside, he knew they’d probably blow up before they could even try to make it work. He swung for Ira Redman, his piece-of-shit father. And he kept on swinging until he’d swung so many times he could no longer remember what he was swinging for or how he even got there.
Exhausted, he dropped the bat to the ground and turned to face Madison. His face sheened with sweat, his shoulder throbbed in a raging dull ache. Still, he felt more alive than he had in ages.
Madison pushed away from the wall and slowly walked toward him. “You have no idea how beautiful that was.” Her eyes glimmered. “One of the most authentic displays I’ve seen in a while.” She moved so close there was merely a hand’s width between them. “How do you feel?”
Tommy’s gaze rested on hers. “Good,” he said, his voice hoarse as he fought to steady his breath.
“Good, like spent? Like you let it all out? Or is there a part of you that still wants to throttle me?”
He nodded toward the row of paddles. “What are those for?”
Madison’s violet eyes flashed, and her grin grew wider. “I thought you’d never ask.”