Joanna

There were days that I regretted ever becoming Joanna Kilkenny. Those days had outnumbered the other ones for a long time now. Tonight, the premiere of Lowlife, my latest film, was being held at the Meridian Arts Centre in Toronto, and it was the last place I wanted to be.

In my room at the Ritz-Carlton hotel, I stared at my reflection in the mirror as my assistant put the finishing touches to my updo. We’d kept it simple, but I had a hell of a lot of hair.

“Thank you, Nadine. That’s perfect.”

She smiled at me in the mirror. “You’re welcome, Joanna. Have a wonderful evening.”

I watched her gather her things and leave, while a text from Jamie came through on my phone.

The car is here.

I smiled and sent a reply.

I’ll be there shortly. Nadine is just leaving.

Jamie sent a thumbs-up emoji.

* * * *

The lights were blinding as I made my way from the limo through a crowd of excited paparazzi, with Jamie at my elbow.

“Holy fuck,” he muttered. “It’s worse every time.”

“Or better?” I replied, trying to access the part of me that still cared about my popularity.

Jamie grunted. “They’ll be trying to tear a piece off you next.”

Hmm. That would be interesting. I’d like to see someone try.

Jamie Conrad, my ruggedly handsome bodyguard, spoke with a compelling Irish brogue that only added to his appeal.

I grinned at him. “Not with you on duty,” I said, confident in Jamie’s ability to keep me safe. Although, in truth, I didn’t need a protector—only a shield between me and the public who thought I was one thing when I was actually something else. Keeping my true identity a secret would have been difficult if I’d needed to exert my strength on more than rare occasions.

My name had been Alba de Gradi for more than two hundred years, but I’d gone by Joanna Kilkenny for the past twenty-five.

Joanna Kilkenny, award-winning actor known for roles in outstanding film noir and mystery cinema. I was a sparkling jewel in the Hollywood crown—a role I’d played with aplomb and delight for those first ten years.

It was getting a little old…and so was I. At least, people were beginning to wonder why I didn’t look as old as I was supposed to be.

At the start of my Hollywood career, I had pretended to be an inexperienced twenty-six-year-old ingénue. For anyone watching—which now included a vast number of devoted fans, most of the press and many, many others—I should have been in my early fifties.

The fact that I continued to look the same as when I’d started was regarded with awe and commendation from many, but with more and more suspicion from a few. There were people who probably knew what I was. And as the years went on, it would become more and more difficult to pretend to be human.

I’d needed an exit strategy. And tonight’s non-appearance at the international premiere for Lowlife would be the first phase of my escape from public life in America.

Once inside the Meridian, I was relieved to be out of sight of all the chaos.

“Ms. Kilkenny?” a nervous intern said. “May I show you to your room?”

“Thank you, yes,” I responded, looking him over. He was young, with a swimmer’s body, but I tamped down my blood and other lusts and smiled. “What’s your name?”

The young man blinked, and his cheeks flushed. “Uh, it’s Casper.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Casper.” I could already see that he had fallen under my spell. Even beyond my substantial supernatural gifts, the ability to charm the pants off people—both figuratively and literally—was a power I wielded with abandon.

“Let’s go,” Jamie said, placing his familiar hand at the small of my back and causing a pleasant tingle in my spine as he did so. Ever the practical one.

I followed Casper, my Louboutin heels clicking on the tile as he led us down a bright hallway past other interns and people working the event who cast wide-eyed glances my way and spoke to each other in hushed voices. I tried not to notice the tight curves of Casper’s ass in his pressed black pants, but it was hopeless. I’d always been partial to men’s asses. That would never change, no matter how many centuries I endured. Men’s rear ends and other parts were some of the things that made immortality worth it.

If I didn’t have solid plans for the brief amount of time I’d spend in this building, I’d have made sure to give Casper my card with an invitation to join me in the privacy of my rooms for a short dalliance—something that Jamie would roll his pretty eyes at but then stand outside my door and try not to listen to.

I knew of Jamie’s regard for me, feelings he tried to hide in the interests of professional detachment and a sense of unfounded inferiority. He was more than my bodyguard and he knew it, but so far we’d only traversed the bounds of friendship. I knew he wanted more and was too afraid to show it—or ask for it.

Which amused me, as I would give him anything he asked for in an instant. He didn’t know it yet, just like he wasn’t aware of my true nature or any of my plans with Lorne, but I hoped he cared enough about me to be a pivotal part of my exodus. I’d know by the end of the night. And he would have to decide whether he wanted me and all that involved or a life of work and drudgery in the celebrity trenches of twenty-first-century California.

Speaking of which, I needed to see if my VIP guest had arrived.

“Casper, do you know if Lorne Dechenes is here yet?” I asked as we moved along.

In my peripheral vision, I saw Jamie’s head jerk to the side as he threw a startled glance my way. Jamie Conrad didn’t like to be surprised. He prided himself on being ready for anything. but he couldn’t possibly be prepared for what was going down tonight.

“He’s already in your room, Ms. Kilkenny.”

Perfect. Everything was going ahead as we’d arranged it.

“What the fuck?” Jamie said. He’d moved in close enough to whisper in my ear.

I waved a hand in the air. “He’s an old friend.”

“He’s your ex-lover. He’s a famous rock star. What the fuck is he doing here?”

We were still walking, following Casper. The hallway seemed endless, but I knew my room was near the exit to the back parking lot. It always was. We came in through the front and left through the back, like all sensible Hollywood celebrities.

“He’s coming to see me, of course. Don’t be jealous. I’d love to introduce you.”

“Hmm. Do I want to meet ‘America’s Brattiest Rock-Star’? I’m not really sure I do.”

“Don’t be silly. Lorne is wonderful.”

“Then why did you break up with him?”

I shrugged. “It’s complicated.”

“It always is with you, Joanna.”

Oh, you sweet, sweet man. You have no idea.

“Here we are,” Casper said, stopping at a green door marked with the number twenty, which had my name in a silver holder.

Joanna Kilkenny.

It was a pretty name that rolled off the tongue, and probably the only thing I’d miss.

I stopped and let Jamie go ahead of me. He rapped on the door once then twisted the handle, pushing it open.

“Lorne,” he said, in acknowledgment of the leather-clad man sprawled on a black velvet sofa with a drink in his hand.

“Jamie Conrad! Still guarding the precious jewel?”

“It’s my job, yeah.”

He ushered me in and began a quick walk-around the space as Lorne stood and stepped toward me.

“Baby,” Lorne said, his eyes brimming with emotion.

“Fuck, you look amazing. I’ve missed you!” My dead heart fluttered at the sight of him.

When you’d been around as long as I had, you put a lot of value on people who gave you joy and relationships that withstood the test of time. We’d broken up solely as a necessity, in order to hatch the plan that was coming to fruition at this moment.

Lorne raised his eyebrows in a silent request. I inclined my chin and he moved sinuously into my open arms. I pulled him against me, feeling the familiar curves and angles of his body as if they were a beloved landscape.

“Fuck. I’ve missed you,” he breathed into my ear.

I gazed over his shoulder at Jamie, who had finished his safety circuit and now stood staring. When I winked, he moved his gaze away and cleared his throat.

“Everything looks good. I’ll be outside.”

“Thank you, Jamie,” I said, before I latched onto Lorne’s seeking mouth. The door clicked shut as Lorne groaned and all the passion I’d sequestered away slammed back into my body.

“Goddammit,” Lorne muttered against my lips, his breaths ragged, his mouth desperate, his tongue seeking mine.

I responded to his desperation with my own. He tasted the same. No…better. The scent of his blood was dizzying.

Finally, he pulled back and devoured my face with his gaze as eagerly as his tongue had plundered my mouth.

“Hungry?” he asked.

I gave a breathless laugh, clutching at his wiry arms in the leather jacket, and nodded. “Always.”

Lorne melted against me and turned his head, moving the collar of his jacket aside and offering his pale neck. At the scent of his familiar blood, I closed my eyes and moaned.

“Fuck.” The word was barely a whisper from my lips. I shuddered, the anticipation exquisite.

Taking my time now that he was in my arms again, I licked a line from the base of his throat to just under his ear before my fangs descended and I pierced the delicate skin there.

Lorne gasped as his blood flooded my mouth. I’d waited so long for this. I closed my eyes and took a bit more, then swiped the wound closed with my tongue.

“Thank you,” I murmured.

“Always,” he said, turning back and capturing my lips with his. He kissed me deeply, tasting his own blood, his cock hard under his jeans.

I couldn’t help smiling against his mouth.

“You’re here,” I said, hardly believing that he had made good on his promise. I’m not sure what I’d expected, but it became clear that I’d doubted him.

He sighed and pulled back, giving me a closed-mouthed kiss on the corner of my lips, as if he regretted having to stop. “Joanna…”

I frowned. “You know my real name.”

“Alba. Joanna. It doesn’t matter to me.”

“It matters to me, Lorne. From now on, it’s Alba.”

“All right. All right.”

I nodded, assuaged. “Come. Sit down. I need to talk to you about something.”

“All right.” My obedient rock-star lover.

He took my hand and led me to the sofa, where we sat side-by-side, his eyes fixed on me as if he could hardly believe I was real.

“Is everything ready?” I asked.

Lorne grinned. “Everything’s arranged. The plane is waiting for us at Buttonville.”

Buttonville Airfield was a small airport for private and chartered planes out of Toronto.

“And Villa Del Cielo?” I asked, eager for his reassurance that we were leaving and had a place waiting for us, just as we had discussed so many years ago.

“Don’t worry, Alba. Everything is prepared, just as you wanted.”

“So we can disappear?” I asked, hardly believing the time had finally come.

He smiled. “So we can disappear…together. And get the fuck away from here and this”—he waved his hand in a vague gesture at the room—“ridiculous celebrity hamster wheel.”

“Yes, but that’s what I need to talk with you about.”

His gaze widened. “You haven’t changed your mind, not after everything?”

“No. I’m leaving with you and never coming back. But…” I looked down at my lap, where my red silk dress lay in soft folds. The diamonds on my fingers glinted ostentatiously. I was so tired of this life. “I want to bring Jamie.”

He stared at me. Then he glanced at the closed door, his forehead wrinkling in confusion. He met my gaze again. “Jamie Conrad? The bodyguard?”

“He’s my best friend, Lorne.”

Lorne swallowed. “Huh. I thought I was your—”

“We’ve been apart, and we haven’t spoken for years, Lorne.”

He pointed a trembling finger at me. “That is not my fault.”

“I know that. But Jamie has been by my side for a long time.”

“And in your bed?”

I suppose it was natural for him to ask.

“No,” I said. “Not yet.”

Lorne’s expression became serious. “You want to bring him as protection?”

I couldn’t help a laugh bursting from my throat. “I’ve never needed him as protection. Only as a front.”

“I know, but—”

I stopped him from continuing. “You need to know that I’m in love with Jamie, as well as with you. And if that changes anything between you and me, I’m so sorry.”

His face paled. He looked back and forth between me and the closed door. “If it changes anything? Well…Alba, I mean, it changes some things…”

“You like him. I know you do.”

“Sure. I don’t think he likes me much, though.”

I smiled at Lorne—sweet, troublesome, impulsive Lorne Dechenes, who had a reputation for being a brat but was simply a young man who got bored easily and chased excitement. But he was beginning to find life in the spotlight as tedious as I was, and I liked excitement, too. We could chase it together, in another part of the world, as different people. But I was bringing Jamie if he’d come.

“He will,” I said, “once he gets to know you.”

“He seemed surprised to see me. Are you sure he wants to do this?”

I looked down at my hands with their long fingers and perfectly manicured nails.

“He doesn’t know.”

“He doesn’t know…” Lorne repeated, blinking. “About what?”

“Any of it,” I said.

Lorne blinked again then stood up, staring at me with what appeared to be anger.

“You haven’t asked him? He’s standing out there and you haven’t told him about any of it?”

“Calm down, Lorne.”

“Fuck off, Alba. How the fuck am I supposed to calm down?” He ran a hand through his wild black hair. “I’ve arranged everything to your specifications, which took a hell of a lot of doing.” He sat back down on the sofa, exhaling loudly. “For fuck’s sake.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t mention it. But I couldn’t, and I couldn’t tell him about it, in case you didn’t come. I’m so glad you did.”

“In case I didn’t— We’ve been planning this for six years!”

“Yes, I know.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t be here?”

He seemed so vulnerable and lost.

“Of course, I hoped you would be.”

“What would you have done if I hadn’t come?”

I became sober all of a sudden and wondered if I should tell him the truth. “Well, I…suppose it doesn’t matter now, because you’re here.”

The truth was, I’d have probably ended it. Because if Lorne didn’t love me, didn’t want to run away to Del Cielo with me…well, nothing would ever matter anymore.

He blinked again. “Are you in love with Jamie?”

“Yes.”

“But…aren’t you in love with me?”

“Yes. Always. You are everything to me.”

“Clearly not everything,” he said, gesturing to the closed door.

I laughed, then sobered when Lorne gave me a look with so much hurt in it I couldn’t bear it.

“Lorne, do you think I would be leaving this life for anyone but you? If you weren’t here, prepared to do this with me, I’d be lost.”

“But—”

I shook my head. “When you’ve existed for as long as I have, you look at things in a broader way. There’s no reason the three of us can’t—”

Lorne’s eyes widened. “Hey, hold on a second.” He held up his hand. “Look… I’m probably the only rock-star who isn’t even a little bit bi, but…I don’t want to fuck Jamie.”

This time, when the urge to laugh came bubbling up my throat, I suppressed it with great difficulty.

“I’m not going to make you fuck Jamie.”

It was such a deadpan remark that Lorne actually smiled. He seemed pretty fucking relieved.

“Okay, good.”

“But”—I said, holding up my finger—“I am going to want you to fuck me. And if Jamie wants in on that—and I suspect he will—you might have to share.”

Lorne contemplated that. “Well, we don’t even know if he wants to come.”

He wants to come.

“All right. Then let’s ask him.”

Lorne’s wide eyes tracked me as I stood and made my way to the door. Jamie’s voice with its deep timbre rumbled as I opened it and peeked out.

“She doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

The man Jamie was speaking to—Golly Frank, middle-aged creeper and the director of Lowlife—saw me and switched his focus.

“Joanna! I thought you’d want to chat before the show.” He threw Jamie a pissed-off glance. I’d told Jamie not to let anyone through and I’d meant it. I didn’t have time or patience for this bullshit anymore.

“Golly,” I said with an icy smile, “I saw your girlfriend getting very friendly with that young actor you introduced me to in March. You might want to see to that.”

Golly’s face paled. “Melody? Really? That bitch,” he muttered. “Look… Let’s figure out what you’re going to—” he said, taking a step toward me.

Jamie stepped in front of me, blocking him.

“I told you to leave. Do I need to call security for backup?” The no-nonsense tone in Jamie’s voice reassured me that he had everything under control, as usual.

Golly glared at Jamie. “I just want to see—”

“Golly, please go. I’ll talk to you later,” I said. “I have a massive headache and I need to get rid of it before this fiasco starts. Thanks. Bye.” I turned to Jamie. “I need to speak to you. Can you come in?”

He glanced at Golly, who stood there with his mouth open and an incredulous look on his face.

“Is there a lock on this door?”

“Yes.”

“All right. For a minute. These people are fucking insane.”

I gave a short laugh, glancing at Golly as Jamie elbowed him aside and came into the room, shutting the door in his pompous face.

Golly shouted at the closed door. “Jesus, Joanna! You’re such a fucking bitch!”

“Call my agent!” I shouted at the door as Jamie hit the lock and I took his elbow. “Come… Sit down.”

“What’s this all about, Joanna? We’ve got about fifteen minutes before the producers come to get you.”

“Lorne and I need to talk to you,” I said, gesturing to the dark-haired man on the sofa.

“About what?” Jamie said, with a wary tone.

Lorne stood and offered his free hand, giving Jamie his most winning smile. “We never were properly introduced.”