Page 119 of Imogen

Imogen gapes down at the glass floors. “But your floor,” she breathes.

“Will get smudged with or without the shoes,” Sabrina teases.

I close the door behind me and glance at Imogen. “Cotton wool? Really?”

She shrugs. “Don’t ask me to explain it to you.”

I really should be asking Sabrina questions, but I can’t drop this. “But he’s scared of cotton wool?”

“Not scared,” she muses, but doesn’t expand further.

“He doesn’t like the sound it makes when touched or the touch in general. He isn’t scared like one would be scared of heights. More like triggered.”

“Like someone breathing heavily, or a fork scraping across a plate,” Imogen explains.

“Still. Cotton wool?”

“Get over it already,” she mutters, shaking her head.

“Sorry,” I utter and get to the reason I’m here. As Sabrina gestures for us to take a seat at the kitchen island, I address her with my next question. “Connor assured us your attacker is behind bars, but that there is still a matter of concern. He didn’t expand on that. I’m just wondering who or what I should be looking out for.”

“Connor is worrying over nothing,” she admits. “Tea or coffee?”

“Coffee, strong,” Imogen pleads.

“Same,” I add. “Connor isn’t one to worry.”

She lets out a breath as she presses a button on the machine to make a coffee. “My fanmail goes through a third party. They sort through them and put them into piles of, genuine fans, obsessive fans, and potential threats. I get a lot of threatening mail. It comes with the job.”

“No offence but no it doesn’t,” Imogen interrupts before I can speak. “Your job is to play a character. It’s not a reality show. It’s them who need a reality check because that shit is crazy. Connor is right to worry. And if there’s anyone who is really scaring you, just send me their address. I know people.”

“You know people?”

“She knows no one,” I butt in, not wanting Imogen to get the Carters involved. That’s all they need. A celebrity status from protecting a star. Their egos are already big enough.

“Call me,” Imogen whispers.

“I don’t want to make you feel like that isn’t enough, but I feel like I’m missing something,” I admit.

“My husband, Oliver,” she begins, sliding our drinks over. “We’ve been separated for over a year and he’s been making the divorce difficult. We’ve petitioned the courts and are now in the middle of breaking down our relationship. I have to prove he wasn’t a good husband and the adultery. He’s denying ever raising his voice, spending my earnings on his mistresses, and having a long-term affair.”

“You got cheated on?” Imogen breathes, and I have to lower my head to hide my amusement. “That was meant as a compliment.”

Sabrina smiles. “I know. Believe me, I get it a lot.”

“Guy’s a fool,” Imogen continues. “A big one.”

“What has he been doing to make it difficult?”

“Many things. I don’t go a day without hearing from him in some way. Since the new proceedings will happen soon, he has access to my address. He is the reason I moved out of our marital home. He has a daughter from a previous relationship, and he used her during our first hearing so he could move back in. My assumption is, he was hoping I would stay there too. I didn’t. He leaked my home address for the first house and that was when I had someone break in. He refuses to let me go back into the house to collect sentimental items. Connor tried, and he used the disagreement to make me look bad in court.” She stops to take a breath. “I was wealthy before I got into acting. My parents started a trust for me when I was born. I inherited it when I turned eighteen under conditions it wasn’t overspent. When my mother passed away, I inherited half. My dad had the other half. Oliver wants half of everything, but my trust and inheritance are secured by the papers my dad had a colleague write up. Oliver would have only been able to get half if we had children, and I made sure that didn’t happen when I started to feel unsafe and unhappy.”

“I really don’t want to sound rude, but these things still don’t explain Connor’s behaviour,” I announce.

Imogen sets her mug down. “Ben’s right. Connor takes his job seriously but he never gets invested or overemotional like this. Are you two a couple?”

Sabrina smiles and loosens the belt at her waist. “You could say that.”

I gape at the small bump she was hiding behind the baggy cardigan. Unable to form words, I lean back, letting out a breath.

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