Belle Pearl by Arianne Richmonde Read Free Book Online

because she won’t believe you anyway. But I believe you, Alexandre. I know what he does. I know.” Tears are in Sophie’s eyes now. I wonder if he has rubbed her too, but I don’t ask. “Are you going to stay at your friend’s house again?” I ask with fear.
    “No, I’ll stay here tonight. If he touches you, call out to me. Okay?”
    I nod my head.
    I woke with a jolt. The plane was landing. Pearl and I had more in common than she realized. We were both victims. The only difference was that I was a victim who would seek revenge because I’d grown tough over the years. I wasn’t that vulnerable little boy anymore. I’d find out who had hurt Pearl and give them what was fucking coming to them.
    The rental car my assistant had organized for me was waiting. I was glad to see it was the latest Mercedes—I’d need something speedy because Pearl was really giving me the runaround—not picking up her phone. I drove to the hotel in Santa Monica where she was still staying. But soon found out she wasn’t. She’d bloody well checked out without giving any indication of where she was going. Calling her was fruitless. She was obviously in a terrible state and it seemed she wanted nothing more to do with me, until I, literally, handed her a signed affidavit proving that Sophie and I had parted ways. It was crazy—as if that were something I’d be able to do overnight…a multi-billion dollar company? Pearl should have known better, but then I guessed that working in documentaries and film was a far cry from what I did, and she simply didn’t have a clue about how many people it would involve—the logistics of doing such a thing. Pearl was morally blackmailing me: wanting me to choose between her and Sophie, obviously still convinced that Sophie was out for her blood. I could see, too, from Pearl’s perspective, why it looked like Sophie was being sneaky. What a fucking mess!
    The only place I could imagine Pearl being—unless she’d hightailed herself out of LA altogether—was at Alessandra Demarr’s house. Of course, Alessandra wasn’t picking up either, but I sped along Pacific Coast Highway toward Topanga Canyon, hoping I’d find Pearl there.
    What a fucking fiasco. I had never chased a woman like this before in my life. All that talk about letting women come to you like cats or children, and here I was flying along in this Mercedes in hot pursuit of a madwoman. A fucked-up, dysfunctional, neurotic nutter, just like every other female in my life.
    The only difference was that this time I felt that my world was at stake. I needed Pearl and I couldn’t be without her. At least, I couldn’t be happy without her.
    The gods were on my side. I spotted Pearl exit Alessandra’s driveway, but because it wasn’t the same powder blue Cadillac, it took me a second to register. She’d changed her rental car and was now (I was pretty sure it was her) driving a BMW. I did a screeching U-turn and pursued the car. It sped up—a wild driver was at the wheel and I knew, by that point, it was definitely Pearl. Our cars were careening along the highway as if we were in a Steve McQueen movie—I was racing to outrun her. The Mercedes and the BMW…always had been rivals on the road. I flashed my lights at Pearl but it only made her go faster. This was insane; we’d get pulled over by a cop—worse, this was LA, we might have a gun held to our heads or flung on the ground and handcuffed.
    I zigzagged like a lunatic, weaving between other drivers to pin Pearl down.
    Finally, she pulled over at a restaurant parking lot. I overtook her, and then screeched to a halt. I got out of my car and pelted towards her, just in case she got it into her head to take off again. She buzzed down her window, and in that moment, I knew that she was not only crazy, but loving the attention, lapping up the drama.
    Yes, Pearl Robinson was a drama queen. She was trying to suppress a grin, which stretched across her full, wide lips.
    I leaned into