Deadly Love

By Tara Devaney-Thompson

Fan adoration is something Brody Lansing knows only too well. As a well-known and much-beloved movie star, he has had his share of encounters with the public over the years, both good and bad.
A strange package left at the door of his Paris hotel room suggests that there is now one fan out there who has taken the step from simple adoration to clear obsession, wanting him all to herself.
Initially passing the package off as a prank, can Brody now protect the woman he loves from another, who is clearly not afraid to take out the competition in order to fulfill their own deluded fantasy?





 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tara Devaney-Thompson
• Release date: Sep 9, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393610595

Book preview

Dedication

This Story is dedicated to my family who are always my biggest supporters.

Chapter 1

Brody Lansing was woken by the sound of knocking. At first, he couldn’t be sure if it was knocking on the door or just in his head. Last night’s party had involved a lot of drinking as wrap parties always did. This had been a long shoot, so everyone was extra ready for a blow-out party to celebrate. So, of course, there had been copious amounts of alcohol and many, many toasts to one and all involved in the film. This was an especially important one for him as it was a huge budget American made movie that could make or break his career.

He struggled to wake as the knocking became pounding and his head began to pound in synch with it. Two nights of drunken celebrations was catching up with him now. Maybe inviting the others to accompany him to Paris for the awards night had not been such a good idea. Not everyone had taken him up on his offer to pay for their fares and hotel rooms but enough had to make last night especially raucous. Again, there came the knocking on the door,  

Okay, okay he yelled, I’m coming

The pounding stopped suddenly. Swinging his legs off the sofa he had apparently fallen asleep on, he reached for his jeans from the floor and, also grabbing a t-shirt from the floor, he staggered across the room to the door. Opening it rather violently, in a way meant to show his irritation to whoever might be outside, he was surprised to find...no-one.

What the fuck? he thought as he looked up and down the corridor. There was absolutely no-one in the corridor that he could see.

He was about to go back in when he kicked a box by his foot that he had not noticed when he had opened the door. Picking it up, he glanced once more up and down the corridor, and then took the box back inside.

He had no idea who would leave him a parcel then simply run off. It seemed like a silly prank. Suddenly, he noticed that it was really cold, so he set the box down on the table and went into the bedroom to put on warmer clothing. When he came back his first thought was to get coffee lots of coffee and an aspirin or two for the headache.

Only after room service had delivered his coffee and he had drunk one cup, followed rapidly by another, did he sit down and open the box. Inside he found a Book and a letter. Taking out the book he was dismayed to find it was entitled, My One True Love and was a photograph album filled with pictures of him and a woman he did not know. He realized that the woman was superimposed on the pictures and that she must have spent a long time editing them to suit her fantasy.

The more pages he turned the more creeped out he was by it to tell the truth. Someone had spent an inordinate amount of time taking pictures of him. Then he noticed something about the pictures and, that was, that although most were relatively old ones taken in England, they also included ones taken just the day before right here in Paris. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he realized what these pictures meant. He had a stalker.

He would ordinarily not be fazed by pictures from a fan but this, this felt different. This felt, well, it felt obsessive. For the first time in his career he was alarmed. Many times, he had been accosted for autographs and pictures but, usually, the fans had left him alone once they got to stand next to him and take the picture, get his autograph and tell him how they loved his work. He understood the rationale of their admiration but this; this made him feel like he was in, quite possibly, actual danger.

He made up his mind to tell his manager ASAP just in case. Just as he made the decision there was more knocking on the door. With some nervousness he opened it slowly and looked around the frame of the door and found, to his relief, his friend and assistant, Emma Fielding, standing waiting to be let in. Pushing past him she says,

Good Morning. How are we feeling this fine morning?

Good Morning Emma. I am feeling like shit if you must know and what do you mean ‘fine’ morning? It is freezing,

Oh, my poor Brody! Are we feeling a little off today? she laughed and slapped him gently on the upper