Famously Mine: A Contemporary Romance Box Set

by Roxy Reid

  I’m furious. At myself, at her, at everything. Because there’s nothing I can do if she won’t let me in. I’m on my way to being one of the most powerful people in Hollywood. But right now I feel as helpless as I did when Poppy spiked an unusually high fever as a toddler, and Brittney and I sat in her hospital room praying the tests would come back with something manageable.

  I force my fists to uncoil, and take a deep breath. It might feel like I’m about to lose something precious, but no one’s in the hospital. No one’s dying. If Sienna needs more time, I can wait.

  I can wait. I can wait.

  I repeat it like a mantra as I walk toward my car, past Sienna’s neighbor watering his lawn. He tips his hat and gives me a sympathetic look.

  “In my day, we threw rocks at their window,” he says, and I force a laugh.

  I look back at her apartment one last time.

  And that’s when I see Sienna. One hand pressed against the glass of her bedroom window, watching me. I can’t see her face clearly, but every line of her body looks sad, weary. Alone.

  And that just breaks me. I open my mouth to shout something, anything, but she turns away.

  I look around frantically, and spot a pile of decorative pebbles in the neighbor’s yard. I look at the old man who gestures toward the pebbles.

  “Be my guest,” he says.

  I grab a few, and throw one at her window. It makes a bright, shallow ping. Somehow it sounds more hopeful than an unanswered cell-phone ring. I throw another rock, then another.

  “SIENNA!” I bellow. She doesn’t answer, so I go back to the pebbles. She’s lucky I played a pitcher in a movie once or these rocks would be going all over the place.

  More of Sienna’s neighbors are sticking their heads out to look at the crazy man throwing rocks in the street.

  I should leave. It’s a matter of moments before someone recognizes me. I can see the headlines now. Joshua King has meltdown in front of fiancée’s house. Is he on drugs or just in love?

  I’m running out of pebbles. Ok, new plan. If she won’t invite me in to let me explain, I’ll just explain through the window.

  “I DIDN’T LIE TO YOU. IT REALLY WAS A BUSINESS THING. BRITTANY KNEW SOMEONE WHO COULD HELP,” I throw a few more rocks at her window. At this point they’re just for emphasis. “SIENNA, JUST LET ME EXPLAIN–”

  The door that leads onto Sienna’s balcony slams open, and Sienna storms out, dressed in pajama pants and that giant sweatshirt she loves.

  She’s furious. I’ve never seen her so angry. But something in me eases at the sight of her, because apparently I’m a masochist.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Sienna yells at me. “Are you throwing rocks at my window?”

  “Ooops,” the old man says.

  “This isn’t the movies, Joshua! I don’t want a grand gesture. I don’t want to give you a second chance.”

  “But–”

  She grabs her garden hose from it’s spot by the potted plants on her balcony, and sprays me full in the face with a jet of ice water.

  Then she gets the rest of me for good measure. I stand there gasping from the cold.

  Sienna looks up and down the street at the various neighbors watching. She hefts the hose like a gunslinger, “Anyone else?”

  Doors and windows close as people disappear back into their houses.

  Now it’s just Sienna, me, and the old genius who suggested throwing rocks.

  “Please, just let me–” I try, weakly.

  “Joshua, you said I could trust you. Is that still true?”

  “Always,” I say fervently.

  “Then I’m trusting you to leave. You can contact me at work, about work. But I need space, and privacy, and respect. And I’m trusting you to give me that. I’m trusting you to give me what I need.”

  She turns to go, then turns back and sprays me one more time for good measure.

  “What was that for?” I sputter.

  “Because I felt like it,” she says, and disappears inside.

  I’m standing there soaking wet, but it’s not the water that’s sending a chill down my spine. It’s the realization that she’s right. If she can’t trust me to walk away when she asks, she can’t trust me at all, can she?

  “Well, the rocks did get her to come out…” the old man says, nonplussed.

  I sigh, and pull a sodden hundred out of my wallet. I offer it to him. “Here’s to replace your rocks.”

  He looks at the money, then back at me. “Keep it. I think you need it more than me,” he says kindly, and goes back to gardening.

  So I turn and walk away, because that is what men worth trusting do.

  17

  Sienna

  It’s been a week since I told Joshua to leave and he left. I’ll give him this: once Joshua decides to leave, he commits. He hasn’t called, or texted, or emailed. He even left the group chat I had with him and Darian. Now it’s just Darian politely cancelling events Joshua and I were supposed to attend together.

  I’ve tried to work on the launch party plans, but I can’t bring myself to do more than place a few orders, and confirm details with some vendors. Luckily, almost everything else is planned. So I spend a week burying myself in work for my other clients, and avoiding eye-contact with Carlotta, who can tell something’s up.

  But a week is long enough, I tell myself as I ride the elevator up to work. No more moping. Today, I send a professional email updating Joshua on the launch progress. I do anything that needs doing. And then tonight I go out dancing with Jax, who I haven’t seen in forever, and begin the long road of getting over Joshua King.

  I roll back my shoulders and take a deep breath as the elevator approaches my floor. It dings, the doors open, and I stride out of the elevator and into the firm’s office, ready to leave whatever messy feelings I had for Joshua King firmly in the past.

  Joshua’s sitting in my conference room.

  The glass walls mean I see him the instant I come in, and it’s a sucker punch. My pulse picks up, and butterflies fill my stomach. My brain knows he’s nothing but pain, which is why I’m done with him, but my body looks at him and sees the man who spent weeks making me happy.

  Joshua shifts, and catches sight of me. I can tell the instant it happens, because he stands. Like we’re in some repressed BBC costume drama, and he’s the gentleman waiting for the lady to take a seat.

  Slowly, I become aware of all of my coworkers staring at me. Well, not all of them. Some of them are salivating over Joshua.

  Carlotta pops out of her office, “Oh good. You’re here.”

  She crosses to me, keeping her voice low in a pretense at privacy, “He’s been here since eight. He says he’s got some details about the launch that can only be finalized in person. And that he’ll only do it with you.”

  I glance at Joshua, and our eyes meet. He lifts his chin in a subtle challenge, and it’s like I can feel strength returning to my body after a week of fasting. God, I like sparring with him.

  “I’ll take care of it,” I tell Carlotta briskly, and begin to stride past her.

  Carlotta catches my arm. “I’m not running a counseling session,” she hisses. “Get me that account, or else.”

  “Understood,” I mutter, then lift my chin and head into the conference room.

  The door swings closed behind me. The only sound in the room is my high heels as I walk to the side of the conference table opposite Joshua.

  We evaluate each other over the table. He’s dressed neatly but unpretentiously, in dark slacks and a white button up that fits him like a dream. I wonder if his shoes still have grains of sand in them from the beach.

  Mine do.

  Joshua’s the one to break the silence. “I guess I should ask if there are any garden hoses hidden in here,” he says. He tries to smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

  I raise an eyebrow, “I guess I should warn you that they will hear everything we say if we speak much louder than this. Although sp
reading my personal business to people I have to see everyday doesn’t seem to be a problem for you.” I give a subtle nod to cubicles outside the conference.

  Joshua turns and waves sarcastically. Heads duck as everyone suddenly tries to pretend they’re working. Except for Jenny from Finance who waves back with enthusiasm, startling a real smile from Joshua that fades too quickly.

  “Now that we’ve established the rules of civility and avoided apologizing, shall we sit?” I say, briskly. We do.

  “About that…” Joshua leans across the table. “I know you said that you only want to discuss the… professional aspects of our relationship. But going forward, I think our professional relationship will be harmed if I don’t have the opportunity to explain and apologize for my behavior.”

  “Josh…” I say, feeling helpless.

  “Please, Sienna,” he says, and his eyes are so intense I can barely breathe.

  When I don’t say anything, he slumps and looks down at his hands. “Right then,” he says, his voice dull. “I’m sure you’re on track for the launch. Email Darian if you need anything–”

  “Ok, fine,” I say, because that dullness is like a physical pain in my stomach. I can handle him angry, and entitled, and — God help me — loving. But I can’t handle him lifeless.

  It’ll hurt to hear whatever explanation he has, and I can’t imagine it will change my mind. But he needs to get this off his chest.

  “Say what you need to,” I say.

  “I didn’t cheat on you,” Joshua says immediately.

  My hands shift restlessly on the table, and I look away, “It’s fine, Joshua.” It’s not. “We weren’t even dating. Brittney’s the mother of your child, you have history. I mean, I would have liked it if you just told me, but it’s not like I ever expected this to work.”

  “Don’t say that. I told you the truth when I said it was business,” Joshua reaches across the table and takes my hand. His grip is warm and sure and for some reason I feel like crying. “Sienna, look at me.”

  I do, even though it hurts.

  “Darian called in the middle of the night and said we were about to lose the Ouranos script.”

  I gasp, “What– but you– did your check bounce?”

  Joshua snorts out a grim laugh. “No, my check didn’t bounce. The widow selling the script got uncomfortable with the idea of selling her husband’s last work to an anonymous buyer. I had to drive up and tell her the whole truth and convince her to trust me. But I needed an introduction to get her to even see me. That’s where where Brittney comes in. She knew someone who could get me in the door.”

  “Did you get the script?” I ask, on the edge of my seat.

  “Yes. I got her to trust me. Only to find out that in the seven hours it took to win that trust, I’d completely lost yours.” He squeezes my hand. “I swear I’m telling the truth on this. You can check with Darian.”

  “I can check with your longtime employee who’s founding a company with you and owes you everything?” I ask, but it’s mostly for show. I believe Joshua. I always believe Joshua.

  “Darian’s on your side. He kicked me out of the group chat.”

  I laugh a little at that, feeling an enormous weight lift off my chest. He told me the truth. He told me the truth.

  Joshua catches my smile, and it’s like I can see a weight lifting off of him. His smile is brighter, he sits taller. It feels so good to sit here, bantering with Joshua. Holding his hand.

  Maybe. Just maybe this is going to be ok. My heart sings at the thought that maybe I won’t have to get over Joshua King.

  “Believe me,” Joshua says. “This will never happen again.”

  That’s when the back of my neck prickles. Because of course as soon as he says “this will never happen again,” my practical mind starts running the scenarios. What is he never going to do? Never let a paparazzi take a misleading photo of him again? Even Joshua knows that’s completely outside of his control. Maybe he means he’ll never ever pick a business emergency over me? But if this production company is a success — and I know it will be — there will be plenty of business emergencies. I know he’ll pick business over me some of the times.

  But I’m terrified he’ll pick business over me all the time.

  “How? How will you make sure it never happens again?” I ask, desperate to be convinced. “I can’t ask you to pick me over projects you’ve been working on your whole life.”

  Joshua laughs, the sound rich and confident, “I don’t have to pick. This happened because I lost control. I got swept up in the moment. I didn’t call Darian. I didn’t turn the clock around. But I’ll fix it. I’ll never lose control like that again.”

  My stomach sinks. I’ve been here before. When he thought he lied to me about what the launch party was really for, because he was scared to lose even a sliver of control by telling me what he really needed. When he needed to control the paparazzi outside of Elinor Swift’s apartment, and used me as bait, without thinking of how it would hurt me.

  If I believed that people could change, I’d focus on how he did eventually tell me what the launch was for. I’d focus on how he apologized for using me against the paparazzi. I’d think of how he’s here now, explaining everything trying to make it right.

  But I don’t think people change, not really. So I’m looking at Joshua, and I’m seeing a brilliant, well-intentioned man who won’t admit that the world is not his to control. No matter how many times I end up as collateral damage. I’ve been here before, and I know how it ends. With me lonely and alone, while he rushes off to protect some project or other that’s worth more than I’ll ever make in my life.

  I look at him, and for the first time that little voice inside of me says, Not him. Not this one.

  “Please believe me,” Joshua says quietly.

  “I do,” I say. But I pull my hand from his grasp. It feels like the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

  He lets go reluctantly, searching my face. He can tell something’s wrong.

  “Thank you for telling me. You’re right, this will help me work with you until the launch,” I say, doing my best to keep my voice calm. I’m ripping off the bandaid, but hell if I’m not going to be a goddamn professional while I’m doing it. I might be breaking inside, but I still need his business, or I’m fired.“And that brings me to the subject of our engagement.”

  “You’re not wearing your ring,” Joshua says immediately. Like a man who noticed a problem as soon he walked in but was trying to pick his battles.

  “No, I’m not wearing your ring,” I say. “I assume Elinor Swift hasn’t signed her contract yet.”

  “No,” he says.

  I lace my fingers together, keeping my face blank, “Then we’ll keep the engagement story going until the launch. At this point we’re close enough that if we break up before the launch we’ll lose the media narrative. I’ll go back to wearing the ring in public. And you can tell Darian to add you back to the group chat. I’ll attend any events you need me to. Although hopefully not too many. I do need to be available to finalize the launch–”

  “I want you wearing the ring in private too,” Joshua says and there’s something dark and hungry in his voice. He looks at my fingers laced together, and suddenly I’m thinking of his fingers tangled in mine as he presses me into the bed and takes me, thoroughly and unapologetically.

  “Joshua,” I say, and my voice breaks a little. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why?” he demands, his voice rough and urgent. “I told you I didn’t cheat. And that night…” Joshua stands and paces, frustration in every line of his body. He stops, and turns to face me, “Didn’t it mean anything to you?”

  Oh Josh. “It did,” I say, rising out of my seat. “But that doesn’t change anything.”

  “Why not?” he half-shouts, then catches himself, and lowers his voice. “Why not, Sienna?”

  “Because we’re from different worlds, Joshua!” I throw my arms wide, exasperated. “You’ve got
these high powered business deals, and you’ll do anything to win.”

  “Are you saying that’s a problem?” Joshua asks, confused.

  “It is if you never stop to think about the cost of winning!” I rub my forehead, trying to put this in a way he’ll understand. A way that won’t reveal too much and leave my heart open and bleeding on the table between us.

  “Your career is everything to you,” I say finally. “This production company is more than money. It’s a dream. And I love that about you.”

  Joshua stills, “Love…?”

  “Like. I like that about you.”

  His shoulders sag.

  “If I was your employee, I could support your career one hundred percent. But as your partner… if this were real, there would come a day when I’d want you to choose me first, even if it means you lose control over how a business deal goes or over what the media says about you. And you’re never going to do that. It’s not you.”

  Joshua comes around the table to crouch at my feet. He reaches up a hand to cup my cheek, and I close my eyes briefly at his touch.

  “I can give you what you need,” he says, and I can tell he thinks he can. “How can I prove it to you?”

  “Joshua, you can’t…” I stand, and turn away from him.

  “I can,” he says. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll give it to you.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I can see everyone in the office watching us. Goddamn this fishbowl.

  I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here fast, before I start crying in front of everyone. But Joshua is waiting for a reason, something simple and concrete and fixable.

  So I blurt, “I’d need you to tell everyone this started as a fake relationship.”

  “Done,” he says. “Right after the launch party–”

  “No, before the launch party. Before Elinor Swift signs the contract.”

  “But I’d lose–”

  “That’s the point. What I need is to know you’d pick me when I needed it, even if it means losing control on something that matters to you.”