by Lisa Daniels
“Ah, Ms. Kinrade,” he said, extending a hand. “I haven’t seen you in too long.”
Graciela tried to remember when she’d spent time with the tiny agent, but she knew the terms well enough. “I haven’t seen you in too long” covered “I have no idea if we’ve ever met” and “I totally wouldn’t recognize you if I saw you on the street”.
“Thanks for popping in to see me first before seeing Cypress,” she said, but Sam shook his ebony head of hair.
“I didn’t,” he replied, plopping into a seat uninvited. “I just came from seeing him.”
“Oh…”
“I heard you two had a date last night,” Sam continued and inexplicably, Graciela blushed.
“We did,” she agreed. “It was lovely.”
Sam nodded, maintaining the smile on his face which didn’t quite meet his eyes.
“I’m glad to hear it,” he replied without an iota of sincerity. “Can I be frank with you, Graciela—may I call you Graciela?”
“Yes on both accounts,” Graciela replied slowly. Somehow, she had been disarmed and thrown off her game in one cunning move. In her mind’s eye, she had envisioned herself confronting Sam Santos about bypassing opportunities for Cypress, possibly even sabotaging his career, but instead, she felt like Sam was confronting her for sleeping with his client.
“I love Cy,” Sam said earnestly. “I really do. I watched that kid grow from an innocent boy into a real, A-list actor. I feel like I had a lot to do with his successes, you know, kind of like a father figure. His family is all gone—did he tell you that?”
“Not exactly—what is your point?” Graciela demanded, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment although she couldn’t quite say why. There was something about this guy’s demeanor, his mannerisms which rubbed her the wrong way.
“Well, he has no family, hasn’t in a long while, and I think that I became his surrogate father, you know?”
“Sure.”
“But there are demons in that boy, ones that run deep and dark, ones that would haunt the worst of us.”
Graciela swallowed the lump in her throat.
“Why are you telling me this?” she demanded.
Sam sighed and sat back in his chair.
“I have no right to make assumptions,” he explained. “But I can tell you from experience that Cypress is an all-or-nothing kind of guy. He jumps in with both feet and doesn’t come up for air until it’s too late.”
If the words were meant to terrify Graciela, they were working.
“He told me you guys had a good time last night and that’s great, but I feel like I should warn you that he can be very… intense.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Graciela said flatly. “Being intense.”
“It can be a good thing,” Sam agreed, plastering his phony grin back on his unassuming features. “But he can also turn on you. Have you ever been on the bad end of intensity?”
He’s speaking from experience.
Graciela knew she saw a lot of the negative with the actors she dealt with day to day, but there was no doubt in her mind that the agents literally knew where to find the buried bodies.
How many bodies has Cypress buried?
“I…” she cleared her throat. “I appreciate you telling me this, but I wouldn’t give Cypress cause to distrust me.”
Sam laughed shortly, his brows arching as if to mock her.
“You didn’t hear a word I just said, did you? He doesn’t need a cause.”
He clamped his mouth shut then and stood up, his face reddening.
“I really should be going,” he mumbled. “Sorry I took up so much of your time.”
“No, wait!” she called as he spun toward the door, but he didn’t pause until he reached the threshold.
“Please don’t tell him I was here. I just managed to overcome one bout of paranoia with him. I don’t know how he’ll react to this.”
“This?” she asked, puzzlement shadowing her face. “This is a meeting!”
“Tell that to his ex-girlfriend, Rowan. You should have seen how he went off on her one time when they were dating. He swore she was flirting with a waiter—a gay waiter, no less. They had to end the party, matters got so heated.”
Again he stopped speaking abruptly and looked ashamed.
“I’m sorry,” Sam mumbled. “I really did let my mouth run off with me. I feel so disloyal because he’s my client, but it’s only fair that I warn you about his… mood swings.”
Sam was gone before Graciela even had a chance to process what she’d been told. She’d all but forgotten to ask Sam about the endless offers that should have been Cypress’ while he still rode out the peak of his career. Instead, she thought about how angry he had gotten with her the first time she’d met him.
What had he said? “I don’t need help with my career. What a bitchy thing to say.”
She reasoned that he had already shown the propensity for flying off the handle for no good reason.
Stop it! she chided herself. You’re going to take the word of a perfect stranger over…
Her own thought trailed off. How well did she really know Cypress? She was attracted to him, certainly, but after a couple days, what could she possibly have to say about him?
I was too impulsive jumping into this with him. I’m going to pull back a little bit and guard my heart before I get hurt again.
After the night they’d shared, the notion of cooling things down was both painful and insurmountable, but it was definitely the safest thing to do for everyone. If Sam had overreacted about Cypress, time would tell. They were in no rush, were they?
I’ll just tell Cypress I want to take things a little bit slower. If he has a problem with that, it’s on him, not me.
She sank back against the high back of her leather chair, her heart hammering wildly in her chest. A knock at her door again caused her to jump almost clearly out of her seat.
“What is it, Myrna?” she called and her assistant poked her head back inside. There was a stricken look on the girl’s face.
“You have another uninvited guest,” she muttered and Graciela sensed trouble.
“Who is it?” she demanded.
“Cypress Landry…”
“That’s fine, Myrna. Let him in.”
“Are you sure, Graciela?” she mumbled, her tone very low. “He’s extremely angry.”
Apprehension spiked through her blood stream in a straight shot.
“About what?” she asked but Myrna didn’t have a chance to respond. The door flew fully open and Cypress stood, almost hyperventilating, at the threshold.
“You…” he growled, finger extended. “You lied to me.”
Dread seeped into her gut, splaying out to consume every inch of her insides, and Graciela rose to her feet slowly.
“What are you talking about, Cypress?” she asked in a soft tone. “What did I lie to you about?”
He threw his head back and laughed but there was no mirth in his tone.
“You lied about so much, you can’t figure out which thing I’m referring to?” he hissed.
Oh God. It’s real. Sam wasn’t lying. What did I get myself into?
“Should I call security, Graciela?” Myrna squeaked. Cypress scoffed.
“No need,” he spat. “I’m leaving.”
He stormed out of the office and Myrna looked helplessly at her boss.
“What the hell was that about?” she demanded, her eyes as wide as plates. But Graciela could only shake her head and look down at her hands, tears threatening to pool in her amber-brown eyes.
“It doesn’t matter,” she mumbled. “It’s done now.”
Short-lived as it was, she thought miserably. I should have known that there’s no such thing as soulmates. All this was was two misanthropes hoping to connect. There was nothing there from the start.
Yet that didn’t stop the pain from filling her chest cavity and taking her breath away somehow.
Chapter Nine
Haro
ld Who?
The feelings of anger and betrayal only seemed to worsen as the minutes passed. One second, Cypress was ready to forsake his contract with Dance Divas and cut off all ties with Graciela, while the next, he wanted to go and shake an explanation from her.
How could I have been so wrong about her?
He thought about what Sam had said, how she couldn’t have been his mate, but Cypress had never been fooled like this before, not as long as he had roamed the planet.
Am I getting too old to wander the earth? Is this what happens? My judgment fails me and I find myself beguiled by a temptress?
The look of sheer confusion played and replayed in his mind when he confronted her, as if she genuinely didn’t understand why he was so upset.
This is commonplace for her, being unfaithful to her husband. Well, I won’t be a part of it.
His stomach wouldn’t settle and he had half a mind to call on her husband himself before his career took another hit through no fault of his own.
That would be smart damage control, wouldn’t it? he mused, wondering what Sam would think about him doing such a thing. He decided not to ask. Sam wasn’t his father, after all.
She pretended to give a shit about me and my career. I fell for it like an idiot and it’s going to do even more damage. FML.
With trembling fingers, he pulled open his Mac Book and opened Google Chrome.
Harold…
Cypress sat up and looked blankly around. Harold who?
It took him several minutes to muster the name from the recesses of his memory.
Harold. Cane.
Lo and behold, his name appeared at the top of the search and just as Sam had claimed, he was an executive at Disney.
Goddamn it, Graciela!
He inhaled and found an email for the man, but when Cypress started to write the email, he was suddenly at a loss for what to say.
Dear Buddy, I had sex with your wife last night but I didn’t know she was married. Yeah, I know I’m an A-list actor (for now) but seriously, I wouldn’t have touched her if I’d known. Anyway, just thought I’d let you know what Graciela is up to. Sincerely, Cypress Landry. PS—if you can find it in your heart not to blackball me from the industry, that would be super. Thanks again!
He stifled a groan and ground his teeth together with so much force, he was stunned they didn’t crack.
The walls were closing in around him and he needed to breathe.
There was only one thing he could do when he got like this; he needed to fly.
Throwing open the door to the elongated terrace leading onto the roof, Cypress shifted into his dragon form, his green scales glistening against the moonlight as he leapt to perch like a giant gargoyle over Manhattan.
If anyone would have bothered to crane their necks that far upward, they would have been met with an awesome sight, the amber orbs of his eyes shining through the New York night to pierce into a distance miles away.
With an agonized and frustrated shriek, he lifted his body into the air and shoved upward into the near cloudless night, his wings spanning broadly as he moved.
For once, Cypress didn’t care who saw him, his misery overwhelming the most basic of common sense inherently etched into his dragon DNA. Maybe he wanted to be caught. What could anyone do, after all? This was not medieval Europe when sights like him were commonplace. People were far too desensitized to the unusual for them to take any real note of his presence. He would be dismissed as a plane or a hoax, never really to be investigated.
The rush of wind on his face almost made him feel alive again instead of the stagnating beast he had become, trapped in the mortal body with nowhere to go. How long had it been since he’d enjoyed this feeling?
Far too long, he thought, grinding his razor-sharp teeth. Over the Hudson, he swooped low, unhinging a blast of fiery air into the waters, watching the sizzle of steam rise over the blackened waves.
For hours he dipped and dove, sometimes taunting the people below who paid him little mind in general.
Maybe that’s why I fell for a mortal. How many dragons are really left anymore?
Finding Sam had been a fluke. Or perhaps it had been Sam who had found him.
Sam’s weyr had disappeared long before Cypress’. He had known the loneliness of wandering alone for centuries before the last of Cypress’ family had been eliminated.
Are there any weyrs at all anymore or is there just a compilation of us wandering about, trying to fit in with the mortals?
The moon was high in the sky when he returned to the penthouse, his body aching with exhaustion but his mind still very much alert. He had hoped the cruise about would settle him or at least help him pen an email to Harold Cane, but when he arrived back, Cypress was no closer to a solution than he had been before he left.
One thing had changed, however.
No sooner had he sat back at the table to stare blankly at the balding man who was married to Graciela than he heard her voice.
“I’m going to leave now,” she said through the door. “I guess you really don’t want to talk like adults. If you want to get out of your contract—”
He yanked the door open and gaped at her, realizing that she must have been standing in the hall for a while.
Her mouth became a twisted line of annoyance.
“Mentioning your contract got you to answer the door?” she demanded.
“I was sleeping,” he lied. “I didn’t hear you until right now.”
She eyed him uncertainly as if she was wondering whether or not to believe him.
“Look,” she sighed. “I don’t want to turn this into a big thing, but I was thinking, and… if you need some help, I’m willing to work with you to find a good doctor.”
He blinked at her uncomprehendingly.
“What?”
She looked down at her hands and then back through the hallway. He considered inviting her inside, but suddenly, he wasn’t so sure.
“I’m… I’m just saying I’m here for you. I’m not going to turn my back on you if—if you need help,” she continued in a rush. “Don’t get upset.”
Fear and tension lined her face.
“How can I not get upset?” he snapped. “Is this a joke to you? You’re trying to turn this around on me after what you’ve done?”
She didn’t meet his eyes.
“Okay, Cypress. I’m sorry you feel I’ve wronged you. I shouldn’t have come, but I was trying to be your friend.”
“You are unbelievable!” he choked. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“With me? You’re the one flying off the handle for no damned reason!” she snapped back. Instantly, a look of contrition crossed her face. “Forget I said that. Like I said, I shouldn’t have come.”
“I agree! What would your husband say if he knew you were here? Or let me guess—he doesn’t give a shit and that’s why you cheat on him.”
Slowly, she raised her head.
“What?”
“Are you going to play dumb? Take all the time you need to get your story together. I know the truth now.”
“The truth about… my husband?” she muttered, her face paling. “What makes you think I’m married?”
“I saw him! Harold! Just stop this!”
“Cypress… I’m not married. I’ve never been married and I don’t even know anyone named Harold,” she breathed, stepping back. “I really shouldn’t have come.”
She turned to leave but Cypress reached out to grab her.
“Don’t touch me!” she cried, terror filling her eyes, and he immediately released her, his brow knitting.
“I-I’m not going to hurt you, Graciela.”
“I know you did something awful to Rowan when you were dating,” she babbled, her face almost translucent. “I shouldn’t have come.”
“No! Wait!” he cried, dismay and incomprehension making him dizzy. “What the hell are you talking about?”
She paused from halfway down the hall and gazed at him
warily.
“Graciela, I have never put my hands on a woman in my life. I swear. Did Rowan tell you I did?”
She stared at him, unspeaking.
“Graciela, who told you that?” Anger overtook his confusion as he realized that Rowan hadn’t heeded his warning to her at all.
“I—it doesn’t matter,” she mumbled. “Goodbye, Cypress.”
“Are you really not married?” he yelled out as she jabbed the elevator button. She tossed him a look over her shoulder and shook her head.
“Never.” Her eyes hardened. “But it’s nice to know what kind of woman you think I am.”
The elevator doors opened and she hurried inside, her hurt and perplexed face disappearing to reveal Cypress’ harried expression.
Why would Sam tell me she was married if she wasn’t and why did she come to me like I needed mental health care?
The answer was blinding when he accepted it, back inside his penthouse a few minutes later.
They were both being played, but by whom? Sam? Rowan? And why the hell would anyone do that?
He paced around the room, his mind whirling as he tried to make sense of what was happening, but no matter how he spun it, it didn’t come together.
For some inexplicable reason, he and Graciela were being driven apart.
And I intend to find out why, Cypress thought with grim determination.
Chapter Ten
Panic at the Disco
She called into work the following day, her heart and head nowhere near a place where she could face Cypress or the other celebrities. Even if she hid out in her office all day, Graciela felt like she was a sitting duck, waiting for Cypress to unleash on her.
I need to do something about this, she thought, biting on her lower lip as she sat at the kitchen table in her brownstone on St. Mark’s Avenue, the curtains drawn.
Logically, she knew that she needed to find a way to get Cypress Landry out of her life before matters got even worse. Sam had warned her too late about his propensity for violence. It wasn’t as though she could just ghost him and not answer his calls. She was forced to see him every day at work for a minimum of three months. It wouldn’t be easy to convince the producers to cut him from the show. He was the show, whether or not he realized it. Graciela knew she was in over her head.
