Chapter 2
two
. . .
Grant
"So, that's Sophia?"
My sister's face leaves no speculation as to how giddy she feels about meeting the Oscar winner. I'm sure my face looked the same when I realized we were on the red carpet together, a stroke of luck that I don't think Lucas could've planned better if he had tried.
I can't seem to shake the memory of my hand against Sophia's hip just moments ago—the smooth satin of her gown and the warmth of her body still buzzing in my fingertips.
Without thinking, my hand tightens at my side as if trying to hold on to that sensation.
I force it into my trouser pocket, determined not to dwell on the scent of vanilla and magnolia or jasmine or whatever lingers whenever she's near.
I make a mental note to remind Lucas I may have gotten a bit cozy with my arms around her, so he should ensure that the press and trades know it's nothing but a working relationship. Nothing intimate. Just friendly.
She has this particular smile—her "photo op" smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. But I've seen another one, a private one, that lights up her entire face and nearly stops my heart. Every time I'm around her, I seem to lose just a tiny bit of my grip on the whole "No Dating" rule.
"A little star-struck, sis?" I ask, hoping to divert my own swirling thoughts.
"Definitely. And even more excited that she might be dating my brother!" She mentions that last part quietly so Hazel doesn't hear, but it brings me to a full stop.
"What?" I look down at Hazel to see if she's paying attention. "Why would you say that? It's the absolute furthest thing from reality that I've ever heard. Never going to happen."
"Ok, ok, calm down. I've just never known you to willingly introduce Hazel to other women."
She's not wrong, and now I wonder if my reaction is another clue that I may have a tiny crush on Sophia Ford.
It doesn't matter, though, because I just bought her project, and she's asked me to act as a mentor.
Besides, relationships aren't for me. Hazel is my one and only.
I don't date, and I'll never get married.
I've known since I was a teenager that love isn't worth the risk.
I saw what losing my father did to my mother—how she fell into a grief so deep that she never really crawled back out.
One day, you have this epic romance; the next, you're left broken.
I'm not putting Hazel or myself through anything like that.
It was a fluke that my fling with Geneva ended with her pregnant.
I'm grateful she was just as uninterested as I was in trying to make a go of a relationship.
And I managed to get the best gift of my life out of the deal.
Hazel, my pride and joy, the smartest, strongest, most beautiful six-year-old you'll ever meet.
I'm not biased. It's the truth. Everyone tells me that, so I know I'm not exaggerating. Bragging, maybe.
I never wanted children, and I'm definitely not what people refer to as husband material.
I'm good at analyzing things and making decisions.
I stick to facts and leave emotions out of it.
But the day Hazel was born, a new level unlocked in my heart, and I was a goner.
She's the only girl who will ever have all my heart, soul, and attention.
Yes, Sophia is incredible in many ways—smart, talented, kind—but I can't risk it, especially not for someone at least a decade younger and in a totally different phase of life.
"Hazel saw her, and it would've been awkward not to," I mutter, feeling my sister's gaze on me.
She just nods like I'm full of it. "Just because Mom and Dad didn't have the fairytale ending, doesn't mean it doesn't exist. I wish you'd get over your hang up on love."
"It's not just Mom and Dad. Geneva cut things off as soon as she found out she was pregnant."
"Bullshit. You two were never serious, and you can't hold it against her for chasing her career. You did the same thing when you were her age, and look how great it turned out for you."
Geneva is currently the model you see on every major magazine cover.
She's on her way to being the next Gisele or Heidi.
Our agents set us up for a few publicity moments, but there was some chemistry, so we took advantage of it.
We both knew it wasn't serious. She travels the world for her career, and I escape into different ones for mine.
We had already parted ways when she realized she was pregnant, and looking back, I was lucky it happened with her.
She's level-headed and doesn't play games.
This pregnancy could have derailed her career, but she figured out how to adapt and use it to her advantage.
When Hazel was born, we discussed our options, and to Geneva's credit, she was honest about her desire to continue growing her career.
In her line of work, age is a factor, and at the time, she was twenty-four years old—prime modeling years.
We decided Hazel living with me would give her the stability and routine kids need.
I took on full custody, and Geneva works hard to keep in touch and visit Hazel as often as she can.
"We start on Survivor next week, and she's asked me to be her mentor throughout the process. She may be around a lot over the next few months, so I didn't think it would be that big of a deal. Introducing her, I mean."
"You're going to be her mentor?" My sister raises one eyebrow, as if every word I say validates her suspicions.
"It is my job to make sure the film is successful."
"Sure, but since when do you mentor people?"
"It's literally my job to help filmmakers out," I say, though it's usually more about budgets and deadlines than the cozy, personal guidance I seem to be offering to Sophia.
She squints with a head tilt as if she's trying to determine if that's total bullshit. In my defense, I do mentor a lot of people. Ok, maybe it's more of an advisory role I tend to play. And by advisor, I mean I tell them what they can and can't do. But with Sophia, I want to help.
"Well, I like her," Sarah says. "And I think it would be fantastic if you realized while you were mentoring her that maybe you'd like to date her, too."
"Never going to happen."
I just shake my head and keep walking toward the theater, but my mind drifts back to Sophia's body in that soft silk dress, the material clinging to every curve and dip.
I can imagine how my fingers would glide smoothly over every inch of her ivory skin, my hands finding all the places that might make her sigh or moan—a veritable treasure in my palms. But Sophia isn't the casual type.
She has that blend of worldly confidence and endearing awkwardness that suggests she's not into meaningless flings, and I'm the guy who doesn't do relationships.
"Are you talking about Sophia?" Hazel asks.
"We sure are. I was just telling Aunt Sarah that the movie starts shooting next week."
"Awesome, Dad. Maybe I can come to the set with you one day."
"We'll see, nugget."
I smile down at my perfect girl. Sarah is right—I am overprotective of Hazel when it comes to who she meets.
If I date—and let's be honest, I have needs—I establish boundaries and expectations well before making any arrangements.
There's absolutely no need for any woman to meet my daughter.
Hazel already has a mother and doesn't need another one.
I scan the event and feel the electricity hum through my bones.
I love this stuff. I'm surrounded by the most creative storytellers in the world.
The imagination and ingenuity seem contagious, and I believe this right here is what makes the world a better place.
The ability to reflect, explain, or escape the world in a way that can change a person—or the entire world—is humbling.
I'm a lucky idiot who stumbled his way into this business, and I'll never take it for granted. It's where I'm meant to be.
Now that Hazel is getting older, I want her to experience the same feelings of possibility and hope.
That's why I'm excited about bringing her to events like this.
Plus, I love spending time with her and will take every extra minute I can get.
She may not decide entertainment is her path, but she'll never for once believe she can't achieve whatever she puts her mind to.
"Thanks for coming tonight. Hazel wouldn't be able to enjoy this without your help. I appreciate it."
I wrap my arm around Sarah's shoulder and bring her in for a side hug just as I catch Sophia's eyes on us.
Sophia gives me a curt smile and turns quickly before I can wave back.
Something about that expression—her face closed off, her lips pursed—tells me she's wearing her fake smile again. Maybe she's nervous.
"It's tough, you know, all these celebrities and fancy gift bags. You owe me for sure," Sarah teases with a laugh, hugging me back.
I take another look around at the buzzing energy of the attendees before we walk into the theater for the show. My eyes search for that dark-haired, blue-eyed princess who seems to have a spell on me, no matter how much I deny it. It's the most a woman has been on my mind in years.