by Deanna Chase
“Miranda,” he said, stepping in close to her and wrapping his arms around her waist. “I do have to go, but I’ll be back before the ball. I promise. One week from today, I’ll be in my black tie and you’ll be wearing something that makes you look like some sort of Christmas angel.”
“You’ll be gone a week?” she asked in a whisper. All of the fight had gone out of her, and now she just looked sad and disappointed.
“I hope not. My plan is to get down there and back again as soon as possible. If I even stay overnight, it will be too long.”
She smirked. “Unless you charter a plane, I don’t think there’s much chance of flying down and back in one day. The Eureka airport only has two gates and one airline. Small is overstating things. Tiny is a better word.”
“I’ll just have to do the best I can.” He kissed the top of her head. The last thing he wanted to do was head down to Los Angeles, but he had to get to the bottom of his father’s involvement with Miranda’s movie. As he held her, he had a pang of guilt that he hadn’t shared that news with her yet, but he really wanted to know the full story before he did that. He didn’t want to upset her until they had answers, which was why he had to go figure out once and for all what his father’s motives were for involving himself in a movie he had no business backing. “I need to go pack.”
She sighed. “I was getting ready to make us pancakes. I guess that’s out?”
He wanted to say no, it wasn’t. But it was already past ten, and the roads were covered in snow. It was going to be a bear just getting to the airport. If it started to snow again, he might get stuck. “Raincheck?”
“Sure. I’ll pack you something to eat on the way.” She patted his chest and disengaged herself from his embrace.
“Wait,” he said, grabbing her wrist.
Her expression was wary as she turned back to him. “Yeah?”
He tugged her in close, pressed a soft kiss to her lips, and said, “Thank you, Miranda.”
“For what?”
“For taking care of me even though you hate the idea of me leaving. For sharing your home with me. For sharing your bed.”
Her lips twitched into a smile.
“And for letting me love you after all these years. I’m not sure I deserved a second chance, but I’m damned grateful you gave me one.”
“Oh, dammit, Gideon,” she said as her eyes welled with tears. “You’re a jackass.”
He chuckled. “Why?”
She shook her head and then gave him an exasperated look. “Because here I was all set to be annoyed with you and then you go and say a thing like that. How am I supposed to stay upset after that declaration?”
Amused, he leaned down and kissed her softly. “I guess you’ll just have to dig deep if you’re determined to keep your hackles up. But if you’re not, how about I FaceTime you tonight, and we can figure out what to do from there.”
“I planned on taking a long bath in my soaker tub,” she said.
His grin widened. “Perfect. You can take me with you.”
“There will be bubbles and bath bombs. I don’t think you’re going to get to see as much as you think you are,” she said and patted his chest. “But you can always hope for a glimpse between the bubbles, I guess.”
“Sounds fun.” He kissed her hard, leaving her breathless when he finally let her go. “Remember that when you’re teasing me later.”
“Um, okay.” She pressed her fingertips to her lips and looked completely dazed. Her face was flushed, and he ached to finish what they’d started, but he needed to get to Los Angeles and see Baker. For her.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“We did it!” Cameron raised his champagne glass to clink it with Miranda’s. It was just after one in the afternoon, and they were at Woodlines celebrating their good fortune. “The contracts are vetted and all we need to do is sign.”
“You did it,” Miranda corrected, feeling somewhat like an imposter. Cameron had written the script. Sure, she’d given input, but she wasn’t a screenwriter; she was a novelist. Surely he could’ve done all of this without her. “All I did was help with the storyline.”
“Miranda,” he said, rolling his eyes. “The main characters and the premise of the show are your creation. You were the one who helped me figure out the story arc. Without you, this show wouldn’t be getting picked up by the number one streaming provider. Own it, sister. We did this together.”
The imposter syndrome was strong, but his words cut through her resistance, and she grinned at him as she raised her glass to his. “We did it. We really created something magical.”
“I think so.” He winked at her, touched his glass to hers, and then downed half the glass.
Miranda grinned and took a long sip. Her fingers ached to reach for her phone. She’d just found out she and Cameron had sold their script, and the only person she wanted to tell was Gideon. Except, she’d already called and left him a couple of messages. Since he hadn’t called or texted back, she could only assume that he was in a meeting with whomever he’d rushed down to Hollywood to see. Resentment bubbled up in her chest, and she had to work to push it back down.
The man had a job to do. She couldn’t fault him for that. If he asked her to walk away from her career, she’d scoff and tell him to go to hell. If he needed to head home for work, then she’d be supportive. It’s what a loving girlfriend would do. Was she his girlfriend? They hadn’t explicitly talked about it, though they had discussed exclusivity and he’d thanked her for letting him love her. It wasn’t that big of a leap to relationship status. She blew out a breath and wondered when she’d hear from him. He had called the night before, but she’d already been asleep. She had answered, but the call had been short because it was after midnight and they were both exhausted. It turned out he’d gotten the last flight out of Eureka, but it had been delayed due to weather.
“Miranda?” Cameron called. “You okay? Did you get lost thinking about what you’re going to spend your newfound fortune on?”
She tilted her head and gave him her best shut-it look. “Fortune? While it’s a good payout, I don’t think either of us is getting rich off this deal… yet.”
“There’s potential,” he said. “If it does well, we’ll have a much bigger bargaining chip for next season.”
She shrugged one shoulder. “I’m not counting any dollars until they’re in my bank account.”
Cameron raised his glass to her once more. “Smart lady. I knew there was a reason we work so well together.”
“We both hear voices in our heads all the time?” she asked.
He let out a bark of laughter. “That’s not quite what I meant, but I suppose there’s some truth there too.”
“Writers. We’re a special breed.” She chuckled and grabbed a piece of bread from the breadbasket just as their waitress brought their appetizers. She placed a goat cheese and honey salad in front of Miranda and a bowl of French onion soup in front of Cameron.
Just as Miranda picked up her fork, her phone buzzed. Anticipating that it was Gideon, she grabbed it and then paused when she saw the call was from Timothy, her lawyer. “Sorry,” she said to Cameron. “I have to take this.”
He waved her off, indicating it wasn’t a big deal as she rose and headed outside. The cool air hit her as she stepped out onto the cobblestone sidewalk, and she tucked herself against the building to shield herself from the wind as she answered the call. “Hello?”
“Ms. Moon?” a woman asked.
“Yes, this is Miranda Moon.”
“Please hold for Timothy Lufti.”
“Sure.” Miranda wrapped her arms around herself, desperately wishing that she’d remember to bring her coat with her. It was inside the restaurant, hanging on the back of her chair. If Tim took any longer to arrive on his own phone call, she was going to turn into a popsicle.
“Miranda?” Tim asked. “You there?”
“Yeah, Tim. Still here,” she said a little testily.
“Sorry
about that. My daughter called with a minor emergency and—”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain,” she said, softening her tone. He’d already proven to be worth his salt. Earlier in the week she’d finally gotten her payments from her former agent, though Olivia still hadn’t called. And at that point, Miranda didn’t expect or even want her to. She had her money and a lawyer doing the work she needed him to do. “Do you have any news about the movie?”
“Yes. The script is being overnighted to you. I know you read Silas’s version. There have apparently been a few changes since then, though they say nothing major. You have seven days to submit your notes. The producer was quick to inform me that with the contract you signed they aren’t obligated to use any of your changes. Their only obligation is to consider them.”
“Right,” she said, resigned. “We already knew that, though I suppose this means they are driving the point home that they don’t care what I think.”
“Probably, but this way by giving you a deadline before they start filming, they are making a case that they will consider your notes. It’s a smart move for them. They also say that they sent a note to your former agent two months ago letting her know that the script would be made available to you should you still want input. Since Olivia isn’t answering our calls, there is no way to know if that’s true or not.”
“Freakin’ Olivia.” Miranda wouldn’t put it past her. Her agent had been really angry when Miranda decided to independently publish her work. It was the best career move for Miranda, but it meant Olivia ended up without a cut of her normal advance. It had made Miranda sad that she’d just been seen as a paycheck to her longtime agent, but money did strange things to people.
“There’s more,” Tim said, sounding hesitant.
“What is it?” Miranda was at full attention now and so focused on the call she didn’t even feel the cold anymore.
“We found out who is producing the movie, and it’s quite strange considering your contract is with Witching Hour Productions. Do you know who Throm Alexander is?”
Her heart sped up and thudded against her ribcage at the mention of Gideon’s father. “Yeah. He owns Ace Media.”
“Right,” Tim confirmed. “But for some reason, he appears to be the financial backer behind this movie and the sole producer. I’m told he personally hired the screenwriter and director. It seems as if all decisions lead back to him, which, as I’m sure you know, is highly unusual for this type of deal. Witching Hour seems to have handed him the reins while keeping their name on the masthead.”
“That’s… insane,” Miranda finally choked out. “Throm Alexander hates my book. He tried to kill my publishing deal all those years ago. Why would he want to produce the movie?”
But as soon as the words flew out of her mouth, she knew. Throm got word that her movie was being made and somehow weaseled his way into it so that he could change it. But why? To hurt her? Why did he even care? He’d gotten what he wanted all those years ago. Gideon had walked away from her and straight into his dad’s office.
While he’d been trying to get her book pulled from production, Throm had promised her he’d back down and leave the book deal alone as long as she severed contact with Gideon.
The notion had been ridiculous. The thought that she’d cave to Throm Alexander’s demands had made her laugh. She’d called him on his crap and challenged him to try. As much as she’d wanted to be published, she hadn’t been willing to sacrifice Gideon for her dreams. But it turned out Gideon had left shortly after that anyway.
Her book had been published, and until earlier that month, she hadn’t seen Gideon ever again. Was this the reason Gideon had shown up in Keating Hollow? But again, why? She had no idea, and her head was starting to hurt.
“I don’t have any answers as to why Throm Alexander has decided to back your movie, but if there is history there and the material is significantly changed, I might be able to use that if you want to pursue legal action.”
“You know I used to date his son, don’t you?” she asked.
“I also know you’ve been seeing him now. Shannon mentioned something about it when we spoke. Nothing personal, just a harmless comment that put the pieces together for me.”
“It’s fine that you know. It’s not a secret,” Miranda said, her thoughts whirling. “Listen, Tim, thanks for the information. After I get the script, I’ll let you know where I stand. And yes, there is history there. If I decide to move forward, I’ll tell you all about it then.”
“All right. Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything,” he said.
“Thanks, Tim. I appreciate your help. And the checks Olivia finally sent.”
He chuckled softly. “I’m glad at least that part worked out smoothly.”
“Me too.”
The second Miranda ended the call with Tim, she called Gideon again. No answer.
She slumped against the brick wall of Woodlines and pressed a hand to her aching heart. Had Gideon known? Surely, he would’ve told her if he had, wouldn’t he? Considering he was an executive over at Ace media, it stood to reason that he would know. But if so, why had he kept it from her? If Throm Alexander really did just want to invest in her movie, what was there to hide?
The changed script, the voice in her head said.
Confused and almost numb from the cold, Miranda went back into the restaurant, grabbed her coat, apologized to Cameron for bailing early, and went home to wait for Gideon’s call.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Gideon walked out of Baker’s home office, his fist clutching a folder of paperwork and his jaw aching from clenching his teeth. It had taken every last bit of his willpower to refrain from putting his fist through the investigator’s wall. But Baker must’ve been used to delivering bad news, because before Gideon could lose his ever-loving mind, the man had poured him a shot of whiskey and told him to down it. Gideon had done as he was told and then took deep breaths to calm his worst impulses.
Now that he was out of the house, his vision had turned red again. He briefly thought about calling Miranda, but he was far too angry to talk to anyone. Well, anyone who wasn’t his father.
It took him less than fifteen minutes to make the twenty-mile drive to Ace Media. As it turned out, his father actually hadn’t left town for the holidays. That had been a lie, right along with so many others he’d just learned about.
Baker’s research revealed that Throm’s fourth wife had left him five months ago and that he hadn’t been anywhere other than his office or his fortress of a home since. Though a certain budding television star had been seen coming and going from his property at all hours of the day and night. The actress was just out of college and working on her first television show that was produced by Ace Media. That on its own would’ve been enough to enrage Gideon. With all of the sexual harassment cases in the news, something like that was a recipe for disaster. But at the moment it was a minor side issue.
Jerking his BMW to a stop in his marked parking space in the Ace Media garage, Gideon scowled at the sign. This was the life he’d chosen over Miranda all those years ago? One of money and access and power? All of which he’d never really cared about. But he had wanted to make his father proud. Gain his approval. Prove that he was worthy of his remaining parent’s love.
All of that was a joke. His father had lied to him for years. Controlled Gideon to uphold his own reputation. Gideon was just done. But not before he handled a few things first.
His heavy footsteps were loud on the glossy tiled floors and echoed off the walls in the deserted hallway. This close to the holiday, most of the staff had taken vacation already. There were still admins manning the desks, but the executives and senior staff were off at warm beaches or ski slopes, taking a much-needed break.
He rounded a corner and swept into his father’s office suite.
Kim jerked her head up from her computer and let out a tiny gasp before collecting herself. She cleared her throat. “Gideon, what are you doing
here? I thought you were enjoying some well-deserved time off.”
“Where is he?” Gideon pointed to the closed office door. “In there?” Before she managed to answer, he strode to it and yanked the door open. Or he tried to. The door was locked and didn’t budge. He spun around. “Just tell me the truth. Is he in there or is he at home?”
“I, um, thought he had plans with your stepmother to go to Belize or something this season,” she said, pressing her hand to her throat and glancing at her desk.
“It was Costa Rica,” he said dryly. Gideon had never seen Kim so flustered. Usually she was calm and all business. She was a kickass assistant who got the work done and knew how to schmooze to get the contacts and meetings her boss needed. But in that instance, she looked like she wanted no part of the conversation. “That’s the rumor, but I have it on good authority that Cherise left him five months ago and he’s having a fling with Kimmie Newsome, the fresh-out-of-college blonde that just landed a supporting role on our new hit television show. Did he have something to do with the casting?”
She shook her head no and pressed a hand to her stomach as her face turned a pale shade of white. Gideon had the distinct impression she was trying not to vomit, but she forced out, “Mr. Alexander doesn’t share any details of his personal life. I wouldn’t know about any of that.”
He refrained from rolling his eyes. He didn’t want to torture Kim. He knew she was just doing her best to not lose her job. “Never mind. Why don’t you go deliver a message to Lenora for me?”
She glanced at the phone on her desk and back at him.
Gideon shook his head, grabbed a tablet from her desk, and jotted something down for his own assistant. After he folded it, he handed it to Kim and said, “It’s personal.”
“Right.” Relief flooded her expression, and she hurried to the door. But just before she left, she whispered, “Top right drawer. The one with the blue tag.” Then she disappeared.
Gideon strode to her desk, retrieved the key to his father’s office, and silently thanked Kim for her help. He would’ve found a way into the office one way or another, but breaking the door down would’ve taken a lot more effort than just using the key.
