“Why does she even care?” I took the subject and my eyes off of Adley.
“Exactly the reason she told you. Never doubt Madeline’s capability for self-preservation. She needs Adley for this film. If you hurt Adley, and she leaves, then Madeline’s screwed.” She paused and I let the silence stew because it was clear she had something more to say. “I’m also going to choose to believe, somewhere deep down, even though she’d never admit it, that Madeline actually doesn’t want Adley to be hurt either. Maybe, it’s just some residual effect of pretending to be her so much, but maybe, just maybe, she actually cares for her on some human level.”
“Why is she so convinced that I’ll be the one doing the hurting?” Okay, so I didn’t specialize in long-term relationships. I wasn’t a root rat. For a man in my position, I thought I’d done a reasonable job of not abusing my power. Their assumptions niggled at me.
“I really do like you, Declan,” the words were promising, but her tone lacked encouragement.
“But?”
“But I like Adley too. She’s…” I couldn’t fault her struggle for words. Adley was hard to pin with a label, “unintentionally likeable.”
I smiled at that. It was an oddly fitting description.
“Don’t look so charmed. I’m not finished.” My grin deflated. “Adley’s not The Girl in the Yellow Dress. At least she’s not anymore…But that doesn’t ease the burden of the scars that are still hers to bare. She doesn’t need someone like you in her life. She needs people who are going to stick around, and you and I both know, you’re not a stick-er. You can’t be the kind of person she needs.”
“Why not? Why are you both so sure that I’m not exactly what she needs? Who are you to make that kind of decision for her?”
She said nothing, scrutinizing me as if she was learning something new. It made me wish I’d kept my mouth shut.
“You actually care about her, don’t you?” There was no attempt to disguise the utter disbelief that she felt.
My composure frayed at the edges, and with clenched fists and eyes straying everywhere but her prodding caramel irises, I had no response. It was one thing I wouldn’t lie about. My silence was telling enough.
“Well then, you really don’t have a choice at all…You have to let her go.”
***
I sat there the rest of the day, distracted by the words left echoing in my head, bouncing off the cavernous hillsides of my empty mind.
To distract myself, I turned my phone on. The number of missed calls didn’t even eclipse the triple digit mark – an improvement.
I really needed to make a final decision on an assistant. Everyone we’d met had been qualified, but none of them jumped out at me as the obvious choice. Maybe I was expecting too much. I wasn’t holding auditions for my new best mate. I just needed to choose.
Adley had told me to pick the little blond Barbie, Candace Harris. She said it was obvious from the interviews I’d connected with her the most, and I couldn’t exactly share that I’d only been ‘connecting’ with Ms. Harris so much in an attempt to make her jealous.
It hadn’t even worked. Adley had been cool, indifferent, almost to the point of boredom. When I’d openly ogled Candace’s rear end as she exited, Adley had gone as far as to suggest I ask her out, as long as I wasn’t going to select her for the position. After all, she’d pointed out helpfully, it was in bad taste to mix business and pleasure.
I’d never wanted to make a girl jealous before. Usually, it just happened naturally. Envy was an ugly color on most women. It was around the time that they started turning green that I reached for the door.
Judging by the reaction I’d gotten from Adley, my feeble attempts could use some fine tuning. If the situation had been different I could have asked her for a few tips, because she was doing a pretty damn good job of turning me green.
I used to like Cam. Post-Adley, all I wanted was for him to stay wherever the hell it was he’d run off to.
I wasn’t even all that jealous of the relationship they’d shared in the past. What I really yearned for was the honesty, the trust, the explicit truth that resided between them, almost as potent as a living, breathing thing. He got an all-access pass into the fortress while I was left standing outside, begging for scraps.
A coarse, foul laugh choked my lungs. I needed another distraction.
I made a move to put my phone away when it vibrated in my hand. I dismissed the errant thought of ignoring the unknown caller. One less voicemail was one less call I had to return.
“Mr. Declan Davies?” A female voice responded to my greeting.
“What can I do for you?” I slipped in a nice dose of charm in reaction to her business-like tone.
She cleared her throat. “Do you have any comment of SoCal Weekly’s upcoming story on Adley Adair?”
“Who is this?”
“Barbara Swan Beat writer.SoCal Weekly,” she rattled off briskly over the line.
“You’re a journo?”
“I’m a reporter, Mr. Davies.”
Fucking Americans.
“I’ll be answering all questions about The Girl in the Yellow Dress at the movie’s press junket later this year.” My line was straight out of the studio’s publicist’s mouth. It was what I was supposed to say to any request concerning the movie.
“Our article pertains to the actual woman Adley Adair, who C.A. Peterson’s bestselling book is based on,” she continued on her merry way as ice gushed through my veins.
It was impossible. Before Adley had even arrived in California, we’d all been asked to sign confidentiality agreements about everything from her presence on set, to her very existence. Surely, no one would have risked the studio’s wrath to leak such a benign story. She went almost completely unnoticed on set, mostly being lumped in as just another one of Madeline’s offsiders.
“Do you have any comment on the allegations that the two of you are dating, Mr. Davies?” My silence invited more bad news, and the journo wasn’t done yet. “The pictures of you and Ms. Adair together are quite tasteful. Nothing to be ashamed of.”
Well…I certainly hadn’t been expecting that shocking little turn of events.
“No comment,” I mumbled, snapping the phone shut, unsure if she’d even heard.
There was no time to process.
“You’re needed on set immediately, Mr. Davies.” I barely took note of the crew member who came to fetch me.
I couldn’t tell Adley. She would lose it. Totally and completely, one hundred percent, lose her shit. She’d panic. Maybe even leave.
No, she’d definitely leave.
It really left me with no choice. I couldn’t tell her.
I wouldn’t.
I soothed the questionable decision with the knowledge that the article would come out whether she knew about it or not. The risk of telling her just wasn’t one I was willing to take. She couldn’t leave.
I wasn’t ready for this to be over.
I wasn’t ready to be without her.
I couldn’t let her go…not yet.
Chapter Fourteen
Adley
“I can’t believe this happened.” I sat shell-shocked. It was crazy. Insane. “What the hell?”
Madeline flipped the page of her glossy magazine. She was elegantly draped across the sofa in her trailer. I turned away from her disinterest, but Fran didn’t appear to have heard me. Her attention was stretched between the three cellphones, a laptop, and the multiple legal documents surrounding her where she sat in the small kitchenette that was currently acting as her temporary emergency workspace.
Three heavy knocks rattled the door. I screamed.
“Don’t open it!”
Madeline’s upper lip trembled upwards, disgusted with my outburst. Fran didn’t even flinch, in full on damage control mode, powering through another frantic text message. Despite their lackadaisical responses, I was still pleased because neither one of them had made a move to answer the door.
; “It’s me.” Alfred’s deep voice rumbled from outside.
I flew at the door. I’d never been so happy to have the mild-mannered Hawaiian in my life.
His huge form eclipsed the outside world as he hunched over to fit in the doorframe. He spoke to us calmly, “The police took him to the station. They’re going to hold him as long as they can.”
I exhaled deeply, relief filling up all the space the air abandoned inside of me. I finally understood why Madeline carted her bodyguard with her everywhere she went, even to the seemingly safe movie set.
A man had somehow snuck onto the lot with one of the tour groups, and taken a quick detour to where we were filming. He’d been deranged, shouting things at Madeline that would have had any shrink salivating. He’d charged us as I stood frozen, horrified by the surreal events unfolding before my very eyes, and just as suddenly, it had been over. Alfred was on him before the stalker even got close enough for us to get a good look at him, dragging the thin man away, without needing the assistance of the security guards who arrived a second after him.
I’d spent a majority of the three months I’d been here marveling at the insaneness of Hollywood. I’d thought I’d been submerged in it like a helpless victim propped up in a dunking booth at the fair, taking shot after shot from these circus people, but now I felt as if I’d been sheltered all along, cocooned from the true horrors that Madeline and Declan endured every day.
The difference was that they had chosen that life; I hadn’t. It was a sacrifice they made to get to do the thing they loved and were passionate about. I certainly couldn’t fault them for that, but I was without a doubt that it would never be the life for me. My anonymity was my life vest in this turbulent sea. I clutched it tighter than ever before, convinced it was the only way I could retain even a shred of sanity.
“Production is shut down until further notice.” Alfred didn’t look thrilled to share the news.
“What?” Madeline screeched. Of course, that made her upset. Crazy bitch. “We can’t afford to lose a whole day of filming this late in the game!”
I tuned them out after that, as Fran jumped in to talk her down from the threatening, level-orange fit that was about to commence.
“There’s someone outside to see you,” the big man mumbled down to me out of the corner of his mouth. He could be a ventriloquist with that minimal lip movement.
I nodded, nerves too shot to care who my caller might be. I didn’t even bother to get permission, walking passed a soothing Fran and an irate Madeline. My heels were heavy, banging down each step as Alfred let me by.
It was Declan.
He hadn’t even had time to get in costume, still dressed in the dark jeans and black button-up he’d been wearing that morning. The sleeves were rolled up though, and he was also sporting a few more wrinkles than the last time I’d seen him, displaying the stress of the day’s activities where his relaxed expression did not.
I was happy to follow him back to his trailer and away from the craziness that was Madeline Little. My mind was still locked in the moment when Madeline’s stalker had burst towards us, his eyes striking in their intensity, and body calm with resolve.
“Lunch?” he asked, reclining backwards onto the kitchenette’s counter.
Against the granite, his fingertips found the rhythm of his unspoken nerves, and I nodded just to give him something to do with his hands. I doubted I’d be able to eat anything, but the chances of him actually being able to whip up something edible were slim to none. It was a win/win.
I sat at the cushioned booth opposite of him, peeking out the blinds while he worked. One strong slip of plastic bent under the weight of my fingertip, allowing me to observe the outside world unobstructed. Everything out there looked a little different; every person a little more suspicious.
The microwave dinged, and a mouthwatering aroma pooled into the room, calling my attention back to him. I watched him, admiring the line of his broad shoulders and sneaking a peek at his ass, before he sat across from me, setting down a steaming bowl of pasta for both of us.
My appetite suddenly returned, and I ate without question. It was freaking delicious. I didn’t know exactly what it was, something like spaghetti but with a plethora of different cheeses to accompany it. And it was messy. I tried to keep it under control, but by the time I’d finished and Declan was staring at me with barely-contained laughter, I knew I’d failed.
“You could have offered me a napkin,” I told him coldly, fighting off the instinct to wipe my face with the back of my hand. I had manners, even if he was lacking.
He shrugged, folding his own used napkin into a small square before placing it in his empty bowl.
“I’m running a bit low at the moment. That was my last one, I’m afraid.”
Fantastic.
My glare didn’t offer me nearly as much satisfaction as I would’ve liked, so I kicked out at him under the table. He dodged me knowingly, and I only succeeded in ramming my toes into his seat.
The ugly noise I made from the pain and embarrassment only made him laugh harder.
“Just think of the service you’d be doing for the rest of the cast and crew by walking around looking like a two-year-old with their first plate of pasta, Adley. You could provide a much needed laugh for everyone.”
“There isn’t even a foul enough word to describe how I feel about you, Davies,” I told him dryly, as I stood up, heading to the small bathroom in the back. I had no intention of sporting a tomato sauce mustache, even if it made the movie a million dollars.
He smiled charmingly as I passed him. “I’m certain it doesn’t exist then, because if anybody knows curse words, it’s you.”
I tried to close the door behind me, but he squeezed in, despite the general lack of space. The toilet and sink practically overlapped each other, and the shower was so small I doubted Declan could use it without propping a leg outside. There was barely room for me to stand alone in the tiny chamber, much less accompanied by a six-foot-plus man breathing down my neck.
“You have absolutely no concept of personal space, do you?” I spun around in attempt to make him back off, and instead found myself planted in his chest.
“If you can’t manage to eat without getting it all over your face, I doubt you can clean up properly on your own,” he said in a simpering voice meant to patronize. Snatching up a washcloth from the basket on the toilet, he reached around me and had the damp object on my face before I could object.
I slapped his hand, taking the washcloth for myself and scrubbing the whole bottom portion of my face just to make sure I left no evidence. When I was finished, I tried to turn back to the mirror to check, but I found myself encircled by the Australian holding me hostage.
“Hold on. You missed a spot.” His voice was deep as he dragged me impossibly closer. Sometimes it amazed me how big he really was. From far away, his stature could be misleading. It could be the way he held himself or his deceiving thinness, but being so close to him, ensnared against his hard looming body, I felt tiny. He was warm, tall, broad; the perfect form to collapse into on hard days, or hide behind when the world wouldn’t leave you alone. If there was a way to remove his vocal chords, I might have considered keeping him.
My chin was pinched between his thumb and forefinger, holding me so I couldn’t look back at the mirror and remove it myself.
“Let me,” he breathed. I held perfectly still, telling myself it was because he hadn’t given me any other choice, but the way he gazed right into my eyes as he slowly leaned closer made it hard for me to breathe, much less flee.
I had absolutely no intention of telling him he’d forgotten the washcloth as his lips pressed the lightest kiss to the corner of my mouth. My lips parted with a breathy intake at the surprisingly erotic sensation. I’d never been kissed there before. He stayed close, only barely not making contact as he grazed across my lips to the other side. He teased me, dragging out the moment before finally pressing his mouth to the other corner.
/>
Oh…my…God. Heat rushed to the pit of my abdomen, and my knees wobbled so severely I might have fallen over if Declan hadn’t been pressing me into the sink.
His face lit up, tugging the right side of his smile higher than the other.
“I think I just found one of your secret spots, Ms. Adair.”
I felt silly for blushing, and even sillier for the lightness that still floated through my head.
“Secret spot?”
“You know, those particular areas that get you all worked up. I mean, other than the obvious ones, of course…Like how it drives me crazy when you bite my ear, or there’s this one spot on my jaw that makes me want to lose it every time you even breathe on it.” His expression held a smidge of bewilderment. “I thought you’d figured that one out. You always go to it.”
I shrugged lightly with a tiny grin, a little proud at my unknowing accomplishment. “I just like your birthmark. It’s sexy.”
“So no one else has ever kissed you like that – on the corner of your mouth like I just did?” Something was building in his eyes. Something I couldn’t understand, but seemed important, like I should know. I was staring down a freight train, watching it barrel towards me, unable to stop what was coming.
I looked down in denial. “I think I’d remember it if they had.”
My chin was suddenly jerked up, and I met his blazing eyes full on. Whatever had been building momentum when he asked me the question, had exploded, lighting up their silvery depths.
“Don’t ever let anybody else kiss you there,” he commanded in a calm voice that didn’t match the fireworks I saw in his gaze.
Umm, excuse me? I wanted to tell him to fuck off. He had no right to tell me what to do. But there was something about the way he said it, or maybe it was the way he was staring at me that at least made me curious in the request.
I tilted my head to the side, as if seeing him from a different angle would help explain.
“Why?”
“I just want it to be mine,” he said simply.
He stared down at me with so much honesty, I had to fight the urge to look away. My heart was swelling in my chest until I wasn’t sure if there was enough of me to contain it. It was impenetrable to jabs, as I desperately tried to pop it. I wanted to purge myself of it – of him – of feeling anything at all.
Someone I Used to Know Page 20
