Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
A mazing .
Reclining on the chaise lounge in the reading nook of the owner’s suite, Delta hugged the script to her chest and sighed.
Wrong had elicited a deeply emotional response from her—not only because of the wrongful conviction and the time Gideon spent in jail but also because of the fight to clear his name. The rekindled relationship between him and his ex, Samantha, and his connection with the son he had never known were particularly poignant. She was eager to see how Ignacio would bring those moments to life on the big screen.
Standing, she stretched her hands above her head. She had been sitting for a long while. The script had been as engrossing as a novel, and she hadn’t wanted to stop until she reached the very end. With the pages held against her body, she went down the hall to Ignacio’s office and knocked before entering. Crystal sat cross-legged on the sofa with her iPad while Ignacio sat in his chair with his feet propped up on the desk.
Before he could ask her opinion, Delta said, “ Wrong is a masterpiece.”
“Wow,” Crystal said.
“A masterpiece?” Ignacio sounded doubtful, but his face said he was very pleased by the compliment.
“It’s such a great story,” Delta said, placing the pages on his desk.
“But…” Ignacio prompted.
She hesitated, searching for the right words. “At first, I didn’t understand what you meant by saying something was missing. I loved everything. The dialogue, the characters are complex and likable, and the antagonists create great friction and external conflict. I swear, I wanted to strangle the guard and Samantha’s father! As it’s written, I think the script would make a great film, but I agree—something is missing, and I think I know what it is.”
Crystal sat forward.
“What?” Ignacio dropped his feet to the floor.
“You need a twist. Something to shock the audience at the end.”
“A twist,” he said slowly. Then he nodded and sprang to his feet. “You’re right. Everything ties up too neatly.”
“Exactly.”
Stroking his jaw, he paced the room. “A twist. What could it be?” he murmured.
Crystal stifled a yawn, but Ignacio heard her.
“Crystal, go home,” he said.
“Huh? No, I want to help.”
“You’ve done enough, and you’re flying to Amsterdam to pick up that package for me tomorrow. Go.”
“But—”
“ Go .” Ignacio’s voice was firm and authoritative, a tone he seldom took with Crystal.
“You’re not the boss of me,” she pouted, unfolding her legs and standing.
“I’m literally your boss,” Ignacio reminded her.
His assistant picked up her belongings while grumbling. “I’m leaving, but I don’t like it. At least keep me posted. I want to know what you decide to do.”
“I’ll let you know about the changes. Have a safe trip.”
She glared at him. “Bye,” she said in a petulant voice.
“Bye,” Delta said.
Crystal waved and quietly closed the door behind her.
“Sometimes she loses her mind and thinks she’s in charge,” Ignacio said.
“She’s not?” Delta teased, taking a seat in front of his desk.
“Very funny. Now, where were we? Oh, the twist.”
“Right.”
They spent the next thirty minutes brainstorming and tossing around ideas while Ignacio paced the room, every so often running his fingers through his curls in frustration. She wished she could help him. A twist would improve the story, but she didn’t know what the twist should be.
Suddenly, Ignacio swung in her direction, his gray eyes lighting up. “I have it!”
“Okay, tell me.”
“What if the senator was somehow involved?”
“The senator that Samantha is married to?”
He nodded.
Delta mulled the idea for a few seconds. “Go on.”
“So, the senator knew Gideon was innocent all along but covered it up.”
Delta chewed the corner of her mouth. “Okay, but why? He needs a really good reason.”
“Why? Why?” Ignacio started pacing again, and her eyes followed his movement in the small room. The low-slung jeans and tight gray T-shirt looked great on his physique, which was filling out thanks to training with Marvin. His body was ripped, his biceps larger and barely contained by the shirt. She couldn’t wait to climb on top of him in bed later and have his hands touch her everywhere while his glorious, wicked mouth dragged her to the edge of sanity. Her body hummed with anticipation.
Ignacio abruptly stopped. “Because the real culprit was a donor’s son.”
Delta’s mouth fell open. “I love that idea.”
“By hiding the information, the senator allowed an innocent man to go to jail, protected the guilty party, and secured continuous money for his senatorial campaign.”
“Not to mention cleared the way for him to pursue the heroine.”
“You would think about that.”
“It’s important for the romantic subplot,” Delta reasoned.
“True,” Ignacio said with a laugh. “So you really like the twist?”
“I think it’s brilliant. Moviegoers will be sympathetic toward him because the poor guy is being shoved aside after he’s been a loyal husband to Samantha and a good stepfather to her son.”
“Exactly.”
“The whole time, he’s a monster who allowed an innocent man to go to prison for a crime he didn’t commit. I think you got it.”
“I think I got it.” Ignacio looked at her with appreciation in his eyes. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t do much. You came up with the idea.”
“Because you pointed out what was missing.” He sat on the sofa, where Crystal had been sitting earlier. “Before I reach out to David, I’ll rewrite those parts and then send the pages to him for feedback.”
David was the screenwriter King had assigned to work with Ignacio.
“Does directing and writing give you as much excitement as acting?” Delta asked.
“Acting will always be my first love. I can’t believe people pay me to pretend, but filmmaking produces a different type of excitement in me.”
“I can tell. You’re passionate about it. I think we’re both lucky that we get to do work we’re passionate about.”
“Despite the drawbacks,” he muttered.
“What do you consider a drawback?”
“The usual stuff that people in our industry complain about. We have a lot of perks but very little privacy, every decision picked apart by the press and fans, and the media is constantly jumping to conclusions. I can’t have lunch with a member of the opposite sex without people assuming that we’re dating.”
Delta nodded her agreement. “I hate the need for constant security. I kind of liked not being noticed after my album didn’t do so well. But then the drawback was?—”
“Your album didn’t do well.”
“Exactly.”
They both laughed.
“You know what else I hate? I mean, it’s a small thing, but… I miss birthday celebrations.”
“What do you mean?” Ignacio asked.
“I used to love celebrating my birthday. My parents made a big deal out of it because my aunts died so young. ‘Every birthday is a blessing,’ my dad used to say. We didn’t always have parties, and when we did, they weren’t a big production, but it was nice having someone else do the planning, you know? Seeing how King Brockwell and his family planned the party for his mother made me think about those days. I don’t need a big to-do. Small and meaningful is just as beautiful, in my opinion. Like the time you arranged for a candlelit dinner on the beach for my birthday. Do you remember? You had a private chef prepare my favorite dishes, and we had a picnic under the stars. That was the last time anyone planned a birthday celebration for me.”
“You haven’t had anyone plan a birthday party for you—or anything since then? That was ages ago. We must have been what… eighteen?”
“Nineteen.” They were both working for her twentieth birthday, and for her twenty-first birthday, she went on a girls’ trip to Mexico. He met her there at the tail end of the trip to celebrate.
Once she became famous, her friends would show up to the dinners or outings she arranged, but no one took the initiative to make her feel special. As she became wealthier, people expected her to host extravagant parties and go all out, which meant she had to organize the event and cover the costs. She missed the parties from when she was a kid. They were magical and filled with love, and she felt special each and every time. It was her day.
“We need to do something special for your birthday next year,” Ignacio said.
“I didn’t mention it for you to do anything,” Delta said with a laugh. “It was just an observation that when you get to a certain level, people expect you to throw the party. I guess it’s because they think it has to be something big, you know? Not realizing it’s the thought that counts.”
“Which is why I’m going to throw you a party next year,” he said with conviction.
“Ignacio.”
“You don’t want a party?”
Delta paused, struck by a thought she had been avoiding. “Will we be together then?” she asked softly.
He looked deeply into her eyes. “I hope so. I still love you, Delta, and I want to be with you.”
“Nacio.” Her voice cracked.
Hearing the love of her life say “I still love you” made every fear, every doubt, every ache melt away. It was like returning home after being lost for years and feeling safe and cherished.
Ignacio came to where she was seated and sank onto his haunches before her. He took her hand and kissed it. “This isn’t fake. This isn’t a performance. The only performance—my greatest performance—was pretending I wasn’t obsessed with you.”
“I love you too,” Delta said, her voice quivering. All the other men since they broke up had been stand-ins, mere substitutes. Her heart and body belonged to Ignacio. Always had. She had basically been waiting for the day he came back into her life and reclaimed them.
“I tried multiple times to convince myself that I didn’t care about you, that I didn’t miss you. I even wrote a song about it. The title is ‘I Don’t Miss You.’” She let out an embarrassed laugh.
“I guess the song is the opposite of that?”
“Sort of. One day I might share the words with you.” Her lower lip trembled. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry that I?—”
“Shh.” He kissed her knuckles. “I don’t care. We’re here. Together. We can do this, Delta. Right this time. Yes?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
Ignacio stood and lifted her from the chair. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, moaning at their languid, heartfelt kiss. In their bedroom, they quickly disposed of their clothes and then reached for each other, touching and caressing with utmost urgency—both of them filled with uncontrollable, all-consuming desire.
Delta cried out at the joining of their bodies. She arched into him, each thrust taking her higher. When his fingers closed around her throat, her nails sank into his ass as the lack of oxygen made her dizzy, and her eyes rolled back in her head.
Over and over, he drove into her while her sobs of ecstasy filled the room. He whispered words of hunger, love, and desperation against her skin, each pump of his hips etching his devotion into her very soul.