Down to My Soul (Soul Series Book 2) Read Free

Clever? Evil? Sweet? The typical conundrum of contradictions I face with him. Most days I want to strangle him because of the control freak stunt he pulled with Total Package . A tangle of emotions paralyzes me. Hurt is right in front of me, and I still ache from his betrayal. Fear to my right, I’m afraid that contacting him could trip a wire and set off that bomb of a sex tape. To my left, that persistent desire that gets stronger every day to say screw it all and take him back. And where does that leave me? With my back against the wall. Trapped, and even though I’m in a different city every day, frozen in place. Unsure of what I should do.
    So I’ve done nothing.
    I twist the mistletoe between my fingers, memories of Rhyson in Glory Falls for the holidays crowding out everything else. Of singing Mama’s favorite carol with him on Christmas Eve and laughing over Christmas sweaters at the dinner table. We shared our first kiss on the front porch, steam rising from our lips into the cold night air. Every day these memories erode my anger. Every time the mistletoe comes, my fury ebbs a little more. I can’t forget what he did to jeopardize the thing I’ve worked for my whole life. He lied and manipulated me. But these memories . . . they make me miss him. If he were here now, I’d smack him one second and kiss him the next.
    God, if he were here now . . .
    “That from him?” Ella pockets her phone and nods toward the mistletoe trapped between my fingers.
    “What?” I drop the mistletoe back into my jewelry box, grab the earrings and slam the lid. “Is what from who?”
    “Wow.” Ella raises her over-plucked eyebrows. “You’re real subtle. There’s two people you can’t, or shouldn’t keep secrets from. Your priest and your stylist. So ‘fess up. I’m guessing the mistletoe’s from Rhyson Gray.”
    Leaning one hip against the granite counter top, I study Ella in the harsh light of my hotel bathroom and arrange my face into the mask I’ve worn since the sex tape exploded into my life. It’s not a guard I let slip. I have no idea who to trust. San is the only person I’ve told about the tape. I had to tell someone. San’s been my someone since we were kids. He’s always known what to do, and I’m praying that he can help me figure this out. He’s doing what he can on his end to unravel this web while I’m touring. Since that first text message six weeks ago, the blackmailer has been suspiciously quiet, but it hasn’t lulled me. If anything I live on high alert, braced for his next jab. I have no idea who knows about that sex tape, who’s behind it, and until I do, I’m giving nothing away to anyone. Not even sweet Ella.
    “How should I know who’s sending the mistletoe?” I re-take my seat in front of the mirror, waiting for Ella to resume the makeup and hair rituals we’ve gone through together on this tour. “There’s never a card.”
    “Probably because there doesn’t need to be one.” Ella goes back to scooping up my hair, but doesn’t leave this dangerous subject alone. “Everyone knows you were dating him and everyone saw things go bad on that video. You telling me he’s not trying to win you back?”
    I’m telling you nothing.
    A knock at the door saves me from having to avoid more questions.
    “That’ll be Malcolm.” Ella heads out of the bathroom, calling back to me. “Forgot he said he was coming up.”
    “For what?” I ask the girl in the mirror since Ella’s gone. The girl I’ve seen every day of my life, but sometimes barely recognize after only two months on the road. Same dark hair and tilted eyes, traces of her Asian ancestry. Same petite figure, maybe a little slimmer now. But that’s where the similarities end. Something behind those eyes has changed. Beyond the surface I’m a collection of reordered molecules making me a new creature I wouldn’t know in a crowd. I’m guarded in a fundamentally different way than when I first moved to LA. Maybe because