She sighed and refocused on her script. Xander was in his office, catching up on emails and working for a little while. She’d made herself a cup of tea and settled into his bed, her dialogue on her lap.

She couldn’t deny how normal it felt living with him again. How good. Back in LA, a big, empty house awaited her. True, Cassidy lived there, too, but that didn’t negate the fact that, too often, she felt alone. On the road or at home, it didn’t matter. There was a hole inside her she’d always thought being a successful actress would fulfill. That’s what her mother had promised her. After all, marriage and a child hadn’t given Annika the happiness she’d been after. Only the career she’d lost could have done that. But if that was true, why did she only feel that sense of peace wherever Xander was?

Chapter Seven

Sasha left earlier than Xander because she needed to be at hair and makeup by five a.m. After a weekend together, he knew in his gut the start of real life would change everything. Sexually, they weren’t just compatible, he’d never experienced anything like being with her. And he’d been pretty active when he was younger, not into relationships, and just set on enjoying himself. While in the Marines, he’d also had no shortage of women who wanted to fuck a guy in uniform, and he’d taken full advantage.

On his return home, he’d been more focused on healing than sex. Until he’d met Sasha. And afterward? He’d bought his home out east, holed up, and hadn’t given women much thought. Okay, that wasn’t true per se. He’d thought about Sasha plenty, and his hand had gotten a shit ton of use. But the couple of times he’d hit a bar, he’d been unable to pull the trigger and take someone home. No interest. Once again, until Sasha.

Xander walked Bella down the street, anxious despite the fact that Sasha had been with security when she’d said goodbye. Now that they were in Manhattan and filming had started, there was no doubt, whoever this stalker was, he’d be close by.

After bringing Bella back upstairs, he showered, dressed, and headed to the set location downtown, which was a mansion they’d rented to film a party scene. He arrived on the closed set, gave his identification to the security guard, who checked to make sure his name was on the list, and let him past the barricades. He walked up the outside steps and into the house with a marble entryway.

He immediately saw Isaac Reynolds, the director on all the Steele movies, and walked over. “Hey.”

“Xander, how are you?” The older man with a big head of salt-and-pepper curly hair slapped him on the shoulder.