by MK Meredith
He bent at the waist, leaning against his knees with his head in his hands. His stomach turned, and he feared he might be sick all over the whitewashed floor. Stunned couldn’t begin to cover his state of mind. He was sure he could have persuaded Fairmont to settle up if he could have only gotten in front of the man.
He sat like that for what felt like hours, running what he could have done differently through his head. What the fuck was he going to do now? Fairmont’s portion was over 30 percent of his budget. There was no way he could replace it. The point of his independent film wasn’t the money it would make. Most didn’t turn huge profits because they simply didn’t have the reach. It was a means to step out on his own merit, make a name for himself based on his talent, not that of his family’s. At least, that was the plan.
Running to his family defeated the purpose of stepping out on his own, but even if he could get past that, both his dad and uncle had their funds sunk in a pet project of their own, and his Aunt Raquel had recently taken on a new jewelry boutique. For being such a wealthy bunch, hands were tied. Tight.
He’d cut costs where possible to buy more time. But some things couldn’t be helped; like the cost of bringing Addi on board, the bungalow, the hotel. Which now he couldn’t afford, but he also couldn’t afford not to pay the costs.
Running a hand through his hair, he sighed.
This couldn’t be the end.
A soft knock sounded at the door, and then it cracked open. “Everything all right?”
Keeping his eyes closed, he pulled in a breath.
Addi stepped into the room. “You’ve been in here over an hour. The director is having one of his fits and…” She paused. Lowering in front of him, she placed a hand on his knee. “What happened? Is it your family? Everyone okay?”
Well, that was one way to put things into perspective. He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Yes. Everyone’s fine. I lost a backer—”
“What? Oh no!”
He put up his hand for her to stop. “I don’t want anyone to hear about this. The last thing I need is Kemper on my ass.”
She quickly glanced over her shoulder. Speaking in a hushed tone, she said, “Look, I’ll take care of the director and the crew. Take as much time as you need. “With an efficiency he’d come to recognize as her professional mode, she crossed the room and grabbed his cell from the floor. Returning it to him, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Make a few calls. You’ll get this sorted out. I’ll buy you some time.”
He nodded but stopped her before she left through the door. “Addi.”
“Yes?” She turned, her cherry red pants bright against the beach tones of the room.
“Thank you.”
“Anything for you, boss.” She winked, closing the door behind her.
He couldn’t help the smile that pulled up the corners of his mouth just a bit. Leave it to Addi to lend a bit of humor when nothing felt funny. He had to admit he liked hearing the term “boss” falling from her lips. She was the only one who could make it sound naughty and sassy at the same time. Rubbing his hands over his face, he leaned back in his chair. He needed a miracle.
Roque called his cousin, Martin Gallagher Jr., confirming the worst of it. Fairmont had indeed invested in another project, apparently bragging about a four-wheeled luxury incentive he’d gotten out of it. A friend of a friend of a friend and all that shit. Hollywood at its finest.
He sailed through his contacts, calling anyone and everyone he could think of, until his phone beeped a low battery warning and the light shining through the window began to dim.
He didn’t remember moving, but now he was reclining on the daybed, on top of a white cotton eyelet duvet with his shoes kicked off and his legs crossed at the ankles. Blowing out a breath, he counted his remaining options, which didn’t fill the fingers of one hand.
The door opened, and Addi breezed in with a tray full of leftover deli sandwiches and cookies from lunch. A subtle hint of honey filled the room. His stomach growled. In that moment, she’d earned the check he had written her.
“Any luck?” Her question was hesitant as she handed him a sandwich, and he sat up.
He shook his head. “Not yet. But I’ll figure it out. I have to.”
“Don’t films end before they get started all the time? Kind of like just part of the process?” She sat down next to him and grabbed a sandwich of her own.
He stared at her, the reality of her words turning the savory bite he chewed to dust in his mouth. “Not an option. Not for me.” Shaking his head, he continued. “This industry is so small it’s incestuous. How I begin is the ride I can expect in this town. If I don’t break out in the beginning on my own merit, I’ll simply be another Gallagher in the film industry.”
“Would that really be so bad?”
“Of course not. My family is amazing, but I want to be working with people who respect me for my skill and vision. And if my work is discredited because of who I am, and the quality of my work is attributed to the involvement of my father and uncle, I’ll never get there. “
She held his gaze, and he could see she understood by the slight nod she returned.
He needed to get his mind off this before he drove himself crazy. “You’re a writer. Tell me about what you want to do with your career.”
Surprise silenced her a moment. That was a first, and he wanted to laugh.
“Do you really want to know?” There was a tense look on her face.
“I need to think about something other than what I’m going to do about the film for a minute.”
She nodded. “I can’t remember when the last time was that anyone asked me about my writing. My parents always checked in, but it was out of concern for me needing help rather than true interest. At least that’s how it seemed, anyway.” She shrugged, but he couldn’t help the feeling there was a lot more to it.
“My sister’s way too busy, and Luca’s never been the warm and fuzzy type to ask. I can’t really complain, though. I don’t ask them much about their plans, either, so I don’t know why I brought it up. It’s almost like we take one another’s lives for granted. Ya know?”
He tilted his head. “I’m an only child.”
She waved her words away. “I knew that. Never mind.” Looking out of the corner of her eye, she stared at him in contemplation. “I’ve always loved to write, but I denied myself for the security of work in corporate America. I hated it.”
“Hated denying yourself or corporate America?”
“Both. At first, I thought it was just the work I was less than enamored with. Then, as I began to write a little here and there, I realized it was the snuffing out of my creative side I resented the most. And I did it to myself.”
“I think that’s very common,” he said. How many jobs had he held before he’d really figured out what he wanted to do? To be.
She mulled on the thought for a bit. “It’s sad, isn’t it? So many people working for work’s sake with no intention of creating a life around their passions.”
“It is, but then, too, many passions don’t pay the bills. At least not right away.” He turned up his palms with a flick, indicating his present circumstance.
“Don’t I know it.”
He chuckled. “You’re brave. I admire you for it. You’re going after your dream, determined to make it happen even though it is not the easiest path.”
Shock widened her eyes. “You think I’m brave?” She bit her lip and looked away then back. “I’m not.”
He leaned back with narrowed eyes. “Hell yes, you are, Addi. I can go after what I want with no fear. Whether I want help or not, the Gallagher name is a safety net of incredible proportions.”
She held his gaze. “My parents support me, too, but a little too much. I can count on them financially to a point, but it opens me up to being told what to do with my life. I’m tired of always needing help, needing to be taken care of. It’s humiliating.”
“I get that, too.” Shaking his head he said, “I
know you’ve heard of, or God help me, have seen some of the work I did while in college.”
She giggled, recalling the underwear ads, no doubt. “Hell, yes. Me and every one of my girlfriends. We had your pictures taped—”
“Okay, okay. I get it.”
She giggled again, and he shoved her arm gently.
“I did the work because I was determined to put myself through college.”
He laughed as her eyes shot wide for the second time. “Really? Why?”
“Partly because I wanted to see if I could. I have a bit of a stubborn streak.”
“But surely being provided a college education isn’t a handout.”
He pressed his lips together. “All my life, I’ve been told I’d be a success either due to my good looks or the Gallagher name. You know how emasculating that is as a young man? I had to prove I could make my dreams come true all on my own. But not by using my name. So I used my looks in a way that helped instead of being a hindrance.”
Her disbelief was obvious, and he scowled. “Seriously. Either people would hold it against me or say the only reason I achieved something was because of them.” He shook his head. “Look. My point is that I understand the desire, the necessity to make it on your own.” He grabbed a cookie. “Enough about me.”
“I like hearing about you.”
“Nope. You’re deflecting. You still haven’t told me why writing and, more specifically, why romance?”
“I like writing romance—happy endings, stories about love and loss and the journey to happily-ever-after.”
“Surrounding yourself with intent. With what makes you happy in life,” he said.
She grinned. “Yes, but not always. When I first quit work, I did so because I ghostwrote the book about my friend Phillip’s success. The project and my savings were the whole reason I had the courage to quit my job. Unfortunately, I underestimated how slowly this industry operates and how difficult it is to break in. Before I knew it, I’d run through my savings. And you know the rest, thanks to public records.”
Roque looked up at the ceiling and whistled casually. Addi elbowed him in the side. “That wasn’t fair.”
“That was business.” Tossing the last bite of cookie into his mouth, he chewed with smug satisfaction. Swallowing, he leaned forward. “It was also necessary. I needed the use of your home, and I could tell you needed the opportunity whether you wanted it or not.”
“And here we are.”
He looked around the small guest room. “Here we are.”
“What are you going to do?”
“What I’m good at.”
He’d find a solution, a new investor. Thinking of Fairmont tightened his chest. It would be a long time before he could think of the man or hear his name without wanting to smash his fist through something. Preferably the man’s face. He didn’t like games, and he didn’t like being lied to. But sitting with Addi, seeing the understanding in her eyes and hearing it in her voice, was a salve. He hadn’t realized how much it meant to him to be understood. His muscles relaxed. He had plenty of people in his corner.
She surrounded herself with intent. Now it was time he did the same.
The only option was to move forward with the project as if nothing had happened.
There was no success without risk.
Chapter 7
The late afternoon sun warmed the kitchen through the open French doors as the film crew worked take after take. Addi forced herself to keep breathing calmly. In and out, in and out, a neutral look of interest plastered on her face while chaos ensued low in her belly—the “fake it till you make it” mantra running a tight loop in her head. In reality, her heart raced every time Roque stepped close for a question or bid her come to him with a crook of his finger or tilt of his head.
She’d wanted to rail at him when he’d asked about her writing. Wanted to scream. How could he sit there so casually when his company had stolen from her? But if she had, she’d lose her one chance to get back a small portion of what they owed her.
She wasn’t even sure what to call this tension he was stirring up in her. Anxiety over keeping her job, fascination with watching him work, anticipation of the few times each hour his attention would land on her, those blue eyes stopping her where she stood. Or maybe the heart attack she almost had when she saw him eyeing the attic door in the hallway.
He’d either been walking around her home with his phone stuck to his ear like a permanent appendage or had been gone altogether, meeting with potential investors she’d been able to get ahold of last-minute, due to that magic Gallagher name.
The stress rolling off him was palpable, but he still greeted everyone with a smile and held it all in check while they continued filming. But she couldn’t be the only one to notice how the strain in his eyes deepened his crow’s feet or the hard set of his jaw.
He didn’t have anything to be worried about. Hollywood always recovered. Sure, they’d lost an investor. Big deal. Where there was one, there were many. The industry was an ocean of sharks waiting for the next drop of Gallagher bait. She, on the other hand, had reason to worry. She needed to get paid.
She hoped the studio he worked for appreciated how impassioned he was for this project. The fact it was his big chance to make a name for himself powered a lot of that passion. She could see that, but few people showed the kind of passion and dedication she saw in him. He really had nothing to worry about. The money he needed to finish the film would come. Hollywood was swimming in it.
She smiled with a shake of her head, her eyes tracking Roque’s movements through the room. It had been a couple days since he’d asked her about her writing, and she hadn’t been able to look at him the same way ever since. She was aware of him before, but this was ridiculous. Like how the lower edge of his full bottom lip squared off instead of curved. Or worse, the way he remained completely present when having a conversation as if no one else existed but the person in front of him.
The lip was tempting, but the personal focus was devastating.
How many times had she had conversations with past boyfriends where the glazed-over look in their eyes pissed her off more than the stupidity that often fell from their mouths? Too many to count.
Ever a people watcher, she’d increasingly noticed she was living in a world of people who only listened in order to respond instead of listening in order to understand. Listening for themselves, not for her. But Roque was a genuine listener—he even seemed to relax when deep in conversation as if he had all the time in the world.
Addi couldn’t resist the allure. Leaning back against the living room wall, she watched him speak to SueAnn, knowing from experience she’d feel relevant, heard. It was almost a superpower, really. Roque wielded it with grace and purpose like a natural leader.
“See something you like?”
Addi snapped upright, and before the momentum carried her too far forward and onto her face, she slapped a hand to the wall and caught herself. “Damn it, you scared me, Jimmy.”
The big man simply raised a brow. “Guilty conscience? Though I can’t figure out why. You’re single, he’s single.”
She swung to face him and, with a hand to his chest, tried to push him back in the direction of the hallway. The damn man remained immovable like a brick wall. Mortification heated her skin as he opened his mouth again to speak. Panicked, she slapped her hand over his moving lips. His eyes widened, and he stilled.
She almost giggled at the shocked look on his face. Addi doubted a man like Jimmy had people slap his mouth shut very often. “Oh my God, I didn’t mean for it to be that hard, but would you please shut up,” she pleaded in a fierce whisper. She peeked over her shoulder to see Roque still deep in conversation—small favors. On an exhale, she turned back to Jimmy and slowly lowered her hand, but what she really wanted to do was wipe the mirth off his face.
Jimmy pressed his mouth in a tight line holding back a chuckle. “Woman, I don’t know if you’re brave or stupid, but there is n
o question you’re interested.”
“No one is interested in anyone here. For Pete’s sake, I was simply watching the crew.” She swung her upturned hand in a wide arc. “This whole process is new to me. I find it…intriguing.”
“You find something intriguing, all right.”
His teasing reminded her of Luca. Though she adored Jimmy, the last thing she needed was another annoying sibling. She already had two. She suspected one more would be the end of her. Throwing him a warning look, Addi squeezed her hands into tight fists. “Shut. Up.”
A deep voice sounded from behind her. “Yeah, Jimmy. Shut up. But first, fill me in.”
Addi closed her eyes and wished the floor would swallow her. Talk about timing. She snapped her eyes open wide, pleading with Jimmy to keep his assessments to himself.
Roque draped his arm around Addi and pulled her in tight. “I’m dying to hear this story.”
The heat of his body burned along Addi’s whole right side to her hip. The cologne he wore wafted under her nose, lingering and teasing with something more, something Roque alone exuded.
She blinked twice, pulling herself out of her hormones and into reality. The smirk on Jimmy’s face made her wish she’d smacked him harder.
“Addi will have to fill you in on that, boss.” Jimmy laughed.
“Funny, hearing you call me boss sounds so different than when Addi does it.”
Jimmy threw Addi a wink. “Hear that?”
Roque raised his brows and looked from Jimmy to Addi. She’d never wanted to kick someone so much in her life.
Jimmy jutted his thumb over his shoulder. “I gotta run. I have a few more papers I need to get signed at the courthouse.”
Addi jumped at the opportunity to escape Roque’s inquisitive gaze. When he looked at her like that, she felt a hair’s breadth from confessing all her sins, and she couldn’t have that. Hollywood money, that was all she needed to remind herself. Aunt Addi’s home was her home, her legacy. “Need a tour guide?”
“I’m from around here. Besides, I figure you have someone to do—”
