Page 11 of Before the Night Falls
He chuckled. “I won’t. I’ve worked with all types. The key is in the desire to become fit and healthy.”
Olivia bit her tongue, deciding not to announce her disdain at this assignment. Besides, Tyson seemed so convincing . . . maybe he’d change her mind.
If nothing else, he’d taken her thoughts off that rose petal.
She was more than six hundred miles away from her home in New York.
Six hundred miles away from the grave of the monster who still haunted her even in death.
She was determined to move forward, despite what The Admirer had done to her.
* * *
Tyson tried to get the odd interaction out of his mind.
Why had Olivia looked so freaked out over that piece of ribbon? Did this have something to do with her abduction and escape?
Probably. But he had to admit he was surprised.
The woman always seemed so collected on TV. But Tyson knew all about trauma and the various mechanisms people used to cope with it—mechanisms like putting up fronts.
Right now, he was with the crew in his gym as they set up their equipment to film.
His phone had dinged eight times already. No doubt various people who worked under him were following up about his fitness equipment, protein shakes, interviews, and other scheduled appearances. Could be his publicist checking on how things were going or his editor asking about his next book.
It was a lot to juggle.
He needed to simply turn his phone off for a while. Having technology as a constant companion could be both amazing and feel like a prison of its own.
As he reached for his cell, he skimmed the messages on his screen.
His breath caught at one of them.
Despite his resolve to ignore the messages, he clicked on that one.
His heart thrummed in his ears as he looked at it.
It was a picture of his house, possibly taken by someone in that van he’d seen driving past.
The words beneath it made his blood go cold.
Which building should we destroy? This one or the school? Your pick.
His jaw tightened.
He needed to report this to his contact at the police station.
Tyson had to take these threats seriously.
But he didn’t like how they were escalating . . . especially not now that he had guests.
* * *
“I’m here in the home of Tyson Stone, fitness guru and nutritionist extraordinaire.” Olivia walked across the floor of Tyson’s state-of-the-art weight room, talking with ease to the camera.
The basement gym sprawled across 2,500 square feet of meticulously designed space, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the backyard and flooding the area with natural light. The state-of-the-art equipment ranged from custom machine weights in signature colors to a comprehensive collection of specialty bars mounted on the walls like functional art.
“For the next forty days, I’m giving up my right to eat whatever I want,” Olivia continued. “I’m abandoning my dislike for exercise, and I’m placing myself in this man’s capable hands.”
