by Ava Harrison
The media sure as shit doesn’t.
Bad boy turned movie star. They love to use it to sell the reels. And I’m a fucking sellout for allowing it. But the money is damn good and this life is far better than anything else I could ever dream of.
“There he is.” My agent, Mark practically yells out, clapping his hands once as he pushes from the stage wall by the row of dressing room and walks over to me. His suit is crisp and well-tailored to match his slicked-back hair.
I halt in my tracks; my eyes were drawn to the sign on the door behind him. The one with my name on it on top of a gold star. The one I know I can disappear into and slip my earbuds in to drown out the sounds of the set.
I try to loosen my coiled muscles and greet Mark Shannon. I owe him everything and he deserves that much. But I can’t shake the knowledge that she was right there. My skin heats. She saw me.
And she didn’t come to me.
My heart drops at the thought and I barely register what Mark’s saying.
“Line reads at two and then you need to be on set no later than three,” Mark starts with the schedule. I’m sure he has it all memorized, although he’s got a stack of papers in his left hand. His right grabs my shoulder as he guides me to the door, rattling off names and times that I don’t give a shit about.
He opens the door for me and pushes it forward, not stopping to even take a fucking breath. He moves at a mile a minute and I let him. It doesn’t matter if I even respond, so long as I sign my name on the dotted line and I always do.
I take a look around and everything’s familiar. These rooms are all the same. A bed, a desk, a makeup vanity. They’re all solid wood and decorated nicely although it’s made to be temporary and that’s more than obvious by the quick construction.
I always tell Mark, modern. I’m not quite sure what it means, but the room always comes with enough to keep me occupied and comfortable for the first few days. And then I get antsy.
It used to make Mark squirm and get nervous when I’d leave the set. Especially when he first brought me on, taking a risk on the boy from Brooklyn with a bad rep but the talent and looks to make headlines in production. He doesn’t give a shit anymore though. Like I said, I show up, do my job and get the fuck back to where I belong. Alone.
The small fridge opening catches my attention. I turn to see Mark bending down and the sound of glasses clinking against one another.
He pulls out two bottles of pale ale and holds them up for me to see. “Just like you like it,” he says confidently.
I couldn’t care less about beer right now. I feel like a dick as I watch Mark take in my posture, as it dawns on him that I’m uninterested. I’m grateful. I really am. He found me the day I walked out of prison at only 19 years old. He gave me a life I don’t deserve and I hate that he’s looking at me as though I’m anything but happy for all he’s done.
“You name it, Nate,” he tells me, walking forward and putting the bottles down on the desk next to the fridge.
The words are caught in my throat, but her name is all I can think to say. The only explanation I can give.
His face is nothing but serious as he stands right in front of me, nearly a foot shorter and looks me straight in the eyes. “You name it and I’ll get it here in no time.”
My teeth grind, my pride and something else, fear maybe, wants me to shut the fuck up and just tell him everything’s fine.
But I’m desperate. And desperate men do foolish shit.
“There’s a girl,” I start and then clear my throat. “A woman.”
Mark stares at me, waiting for more and ready to deliver. “Harlow May.” Her name is like a sin on my tongue. So sweet and tempting. The sound warms my chest and just saying her name brings a sense of peace about me. The anxiousness leaves me slowly as he nods.
“Harlow May,” he says and nods repeatedly, although his eyes stayed glued to mine.
“She was here in the lobby,” I tell him and my blood heats remembering how she looked at me. The fear in her eyes is the very same that was there when I last saw her. When I told her to stay the fuck away and never speak to me again.
“Alright, she was here and you want to . . .?” Mark questions and it pisses me off.
“I want to know why. I want to know everything about her,” I say and my voice comes out firm and absent of negotiation. I’m fully aware of how fucked up my request is. “I want her here,” I add. I don’t give a shit if it’s crazy. I couldn’t give two fucks what he thinks. “Just make it happen,” I tell him words I hear these assholes tell their agents all the time. I’ve never requested anything from Mark, ever, but I need this. I need to know if it was really her.
“She wasn’t in the pilot, so if she is here, she’s no one important,” Mark says easily and then seems to think twice about his word choice. Maybe it’s because my eyes narrow and that uneasiness I’ve been trying to shake comes back full force.
“Give me five minutes,” he says as he starts walking briskly to the door. “I’ll know exactly who she is, where she is, what she’s doing and who she’s fucking in five minutes,” he says and then flinches when my eyes flash with anger.
“I don’t want to know who she’s fucking,” I spit back at him and then regret it. Not because of how pissed off I sound, but because it’s a lie. I do want to know. I close my eyes and run a hand down my face in frustration as my head throbs and I listen to the door opening and closing.
I know she wasn’t in the fucking pilot. He didn’t have to tell me that.
One episode down and seven to go for this season. If it goes well and gets picked up for the next season, then 12 episodes for the next season. Even starring in so many damn episodes, the shooting time is only thirty days. Television production is proving much faster than cinema.
Which means fewer days with her. If she’s even here. I try to ignore the hope. I try to ignore the way my stomach churns at the thought of being close to her again.
Hally was a mistake all those years ago. She brought chaos to my life. A fury of emotion I thrived on, a tension between the two of us that I was addicted to. I know it was the same for her. The two of us together was nothing but destructive. Both of us tearing at each other, even if it was only to get closer. Desperate for one another in every way.
If she’s back, I’m fucked. I already know that much.
I’m on edge as I open up the door to my room and stand there, watching everyone move about and praying for a distraction. The fourteenth and fifteenth floors are booked for production. Different sets on each and our rooms are scattered throughout the building.
My eyes drift from one person to the next, each on a cell phone or getting their makeup done or preparing in some way for the long days ahead of us. It’s show biz and it moves a mile a minute. Or at least it does around me.
I used to be eager to get in here. To play a role that someone else chose and fade into a life that wasn’t my own. Even if it was just for a moment. I could be someone else and forget my own name. Forget where I grew up and how I had no one. Forget how I ran away from the one person who ever made me feel anything but anger.
Scripts and roles were easy to be consumed with; I was that desperate to be anyone besides the person I’d become. And not a damn thing could stop me from playing the part Mark gave me. I wasn’t bred for this lifestyle, but after years of being shoved in front of cameras and taking over the spotlight, nothing fazes me anymore.
But knowing she’s here somewhere in this building, or was . . . She may have already left.
The realization makes my blood spike with adrenaline, the need to run to her and stop her from getting any further is sobering.
I didn’t want to lose her. I didn’t want to walk away. But that’s the way it had to happen. Life decided that shit, not me. I never thought I’d see her face again. Fuck, I’ve been running from her for years.
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Exposé
Clandestine i
s just one of six scandalous romances from six Best Selling Authors.
Read all about it in Exposé, the gossip column to sink your teeth into.
Each story in the Exposé Series is a COMPLETE STANDALONE. These stories and characters are not connected.
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I’ve stopped wishing for extraordinary.
I’ve stopped wishing for that one moment so profound it will change everything. I know it will never happen, so there’s no point in dreaming.
But like all things in life, extraordinary happens when you least expect it, and in the blink of an eye, everything can change.
I gaze out at the vast ocean before me. The water laps against the shore like a graceful song to my ears, quietly whispering a melody I once loved, but it does nothing to calm my nerves. Waves roll in, and with each pass of the water, the sand below me scratches beneath my bare feet. I close my eyes to take in the peace, but the visions behind my eyelids are still there, and the pain of his betrayal continues to etch away at me.
As usual, nothing has gone according to my plan. I’m not sure what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t what I got.
I never really liked him.
So why did it hurt so much?
Life has taught me hard lessons. I learned long ago that I could never rely on anyone to be there for me, but even after everything I’ve been through, I still need to know I mean something to someone. That someone out there cares.
It certainly isn’t my parents. Although my father tries, ever since he left when I was ten it hasn’t been the same. And my mom . . . well, my mom is currently in the midst of becoming Mrs. Someone for the fourth time. I’m her perfectly created specimen. The daughter she flaunts at the parties she attends.
When I was eleven, Mom was trying to land a British Duke, which required extensive travel to Europe. To this day, I’m not sure why she dragged me along. In the end, all we had to show for the experience was me being held back a grade. So, even though I’m already eighteen, I’m only a senior in high school.
Turning my head to look over my shoulder, I gaze at the house in the distance. Right up the beach is the house party we decided to crash. Bridget’s older sister rented the house for the summer with a bunch of her college buddies. We knew a ton of Cranbrook Alumni, including my boyfriend, Matthew—well, ex-boyfriend now—would also be there.
At the last minute, Bridget and I decided to pack a bag and join the fun. Although everyone at the party was significantly older than us, we knew we’d be welcome. It would be everyone’s last hurrah. I couldn’t wait to get there and spend some time with Matt before school started, but it turned out he wasn’t missing me as much as I missed him.
My feet were cemented to the floor as I took in the sight before me. There, standing at the edge of the bed, was my boyfriend and a blonde I didn’t know. I couldn’t move as I watched him thrust in and out of her from behind. The sickly sweet smell of sex permeated the air.
I was afraid I’d be sick.
“Matt.” His movements stopped at the sound of my voice.
“Oh, shit,” he said as he pulled out of her and faced me. His face contorted into a look of shock. “Fuck. I didn’t know you’d be here.” My mouth dropped open. Did he just say that? Every muscle in my body flinched as anger filled my blood. A tense silence enveloped the room. It was as if a fierce storm was about to blow.
“You didn’t know I would be here?”
He made no move to cover himself or his whore. Instead, I was forced to look at the woman he cheated on me with. Model tall with bones sticking out of her hips—the complete opposite of me. Her hair was the shade of blond only present in a bottle, and she had lips that looked as if they had recently been injected with fillers. Shaking my head, I turned my attention back to Matt, whose dick was still hard. His mouth hung open, obviously thinking of a way to respond to my question. He let out an audible sigh and then—finally—reached for a sheet to cover the evidence of his tryst.
“Listen, Lynn. I’m sorry you found out this way, but maybe it’s for the best.”
My stomach tightened, and anger coiled inside me. “For the best? What the fuck, Matt? We’ve been together for months!”
“Yeah, but now I’m going away to college, and I’m not sure how I can go that long without you. You don’t get it since you’re still in high school. But I have needs.”
“Needs? You know what? No. No! You don’t get to put this on me like it’s my fault you’re a lying, cheating dick. Have a nice life.”
“Lynn—”
I stormed out the door.
I take a deep breath, and the smell of the ocean rushes up through my nose. Its salty and pungent fragrance should act as a balm, an elixir that soothes me, but I’m too destroyed for something that simple to work. I exhale the emotion collecting inside me.
All I can do now is pray for a miracle to save my night.
Another fucking party.
I’m so sick of this shit. If there’s one thing I won’t miss it’s the drunk, self-indulgent idiots getting high and fucking anything with a hole. Not that I don’t like fucking, but I have some standards . . .
I reach for a bottle of Grey Goose on the counter and search for a spot where I can be alone and drown out the noise these children are making.
Why the hell am I here again?
Oh, yes. Dylan. It’s his last party before he starts law school. Unlike him, I’m over this college shit, but he insisted on one last rager. Normally, I wouldn’t have bothered, but the guilt he laid on was even too thick for me to say no to.
I’m too old for this crap.
My real life starts on Monday. After four years of college, my head stuck in the books trying to get my shit together, I finally have a degree to show for it. I’m ready for the next stage, but I still have a few more days before this new phase of my life starts, so I guess there’s no harm in one more night of oblivion. But unlike these people, I would prefer to spend it alone.
Looking from right to left, it’s apparent there is no place for me to hide. Then, from the corner of my eye, I spot the door to the beach. There. That’s where I’ll find peace. Everyone is too busy getting drunk inside to be out there. It’s the perfect place. With a deep breath, I stroll toward the sliding door, and on the way grab a blanket lying across the back of the couch. Might need that. Over the loud thumping music there’s no creaking noise when I pull the glass door open, but as I step outside and close it behind me, the sound echoes against the new silence of the night. The summer heat slaps my face as I search for a secluded area on the deck. Then, I notice the path leading down to the water.
Bingo.
With every step I take, the party becomes a distant hum, but when I finally reach the sand, I see I’m not alone. A little way down the beach, sitting where the sand almost meets the water is a girl. I only catch glimpses of her face from this angle, but each time her light hair is rustled by the wind, the exposed skin on the back of her neck peeks out. She’s beautiful. Even though my view is obstructed by the distance and angle, it doesn’t take much to realize that she is breathtaking. Ethereal . . . like a goddess. I stare at her some more and find that although I came here to be alone, I no longer want to be. The fact she’s here has me welcoming the company, or more like her company. I lift the bottle to my mouth and take a long swig.
This should be interesting.
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I want to thank my entire family. I love you all.
Thank you to my husband and my kids for always loving me, I love you so much!
Thank you to my Mom, Dad, Liz and Ralph for always believing in me, encouraging me and loving me!
Thank you to my in-laws for being so cool about me writing books and encouraging it!
Thank you to all of my brothers and sisters!
Thank you to ev
eryone that helped with Clandestine.
Write Girl Editing Services
Indie After Hours
Lawrence Editing
Becca Mysoor
Love N. Books
Marla Esposito
Champagne Formats
Kari March
Lori Jackson
Mila Grayson
Becca Zsurkán
Thank you Give Me Books.
Thank you Rafa Catala and Fabian Castro
Thank you to my beta team! Leigh, Mia, Willow, Melissa, Christine. Thank you for your wonderful and extremely helpful feedback.
Thank you to my agent Emily Sylvan Kim and everyone at Prospect for believing in me!
Thank you to my translators ;-) Sophie Broughton, Maïwenn blogs, Mom.
I want to thank ALL my friends for putting up with me while I wrote this book. I know it’s no easy task! Trish, Lisa, Paige, Serena . . . Thank you!
Thank you to my smut moms!
Thank you to my Phi Girls for always being there!
Thank you to Melissa Saneholtz. You are my sanity! There aren’t enough ways for me to say THANK YOU!
Mia you are my plotting goddess, I love how your brain works. I couldn’t have gotten through this book without your help!
Leigh . . .I could never have written Spencer without you or this book! Thank you for your endless cheerleading and support.
Livia . . . Dude, I don’t know why you answer my calls when you know I’m writing but thank you!
To all of my author friends who listen to me bitch and let me ask for advice, thank you!
Melody, Corinne, Celia, AL, Lauren
To my Exposé sisters, I loved getting to be part of this amazing project with you.
Willow, Adrianna, Mandi, Frankie, Mia
Thank you to all the ladies I sprint with! I would never have finished this book without you pushing me.
