Chapter 4
ROMAN
Jane strolls into the living room in a hotel robe, her long hair down and damp from her shower. The midday sun, vivid and extraordinary, much like the woman its rays dance around, envelops her lithe body in a warm, buttery glow.
Damn, I fucking want her again.
We didn’t get much sleep last night. When we woke—minutes before ten—I figured she needed a break and we needed food more than I needed to fuck right away.
While I have a healthy sex drive, last night was a first. Maybe it was because the end of our time together is fast approaching, or maybe it’s that I know this is it—I can’t have her again. Whatever the reason, I wasn’t able to stop myself or the insatiable longing for more of her.
At least we still have tonight. As with anything pleasurable—especially if it comes with an expiration date—it’s far too easy to get sucked in and lose myself. Jane could easily become a dangerous habit.
That can’t be what this is.
Shaking off those thoughts, I run a hand through my nearly dry hair and pour a cup of coffee for her.
While she slept, I had a quick shower, and then while she showered, I ordered room service.
I place my cup onto the saucer as she approaches the dining table. “Hungry?”
She leans over the table to pinch a piece of bacon from the breakfast spread. “Yes. This looks delicious, but it’s way too much food for just the two of us.”
“I wasn’t sure what you liked or wanted.”
Sliding into the chair next to me, she crunches on the crispy strip. “Thank you.”
Somewhere close by, a phone pings and it isn’t mine. Mine sits on the dining table, facedown and off, and has been that way for most of the time since I left Los Angeles.
Before the food arrived, I briefly checked messages, and as expected, my assistant and my father both want to know where I am. Once I fired off a response letting them know there was nothing to worry about, I promptly shut it off again.
She pulls her phone from the pocket of her robe and warily glances down at the screen. An edgy, almost apprehensive expression pollutes her striking features.
I lean forward. “Everything okay?”
“Sort of. It’s nothing. Just Monty. He’s sorry and wants to talk. He says he’s worried about me.” She deposits the phone on the table and wrinkles her nose in disgust before grabbing the coffee carafe. Her hand trembles as she pours the hot liquid into a cup.
“Jane, are—”
“It’s fine. I don’t plan on talking to him.
Not now, anyway, and I don’t want to talk about it.
” She selects a plate of fruit and a croissant.
“I’ve been thinking. I need to get my stuff from Monty’s room before my flight tomorrow, but I want to do it when he isn’t there.
The best time would be tonight during the game. The room will be empty.”
Something, maybe a sense of relief or lingering satisfaction, bathes her expression and lessens the tension on her face. Before I can say anything, she forces a smile and changes the topic.
“What do you want to do today? We could get out of the hotel. I could use some fresh air, or will that be too tricky for you? I never did ask you why you’re here. Is it for a movie?”
Finally, she pauses to take a breath, her jitters palpable and fraught between us.
Since I don’t know her all that well, I can’t quite put my finger on what’s causing the odd behavior, maybe it’s the reality of last night.
The magnitude of what Fisher did might finally be hitting her full force or maybe even what we did.
Though we haven’t talked about it, and I don’t have any personal experience with this, I imagine breaking off an engagement to someone you’ve been with for many years would disrupt your life in more ways than one. And with that, I bring us back to the topic of her ex.
“I’ll come with you tonight.” I hold up a hand as she opens her mouth to protest, wanting to reassure her that if only for this weekend, she isn’t alone.
“As for today, I’m supposed to be lying low, and I’m not here for a movie or anything to do with acting.
I’m producing now and have a meeting with a screenwriter on Monday.
I’m hoping to buy the option to the script. ”
“Oh. What does that mean?” She laughs and settles into the chair, coffee cup clasped in front of her.
“The script is written for a feature film entitled Pinwheel, and the screenwriter shopped it around to a few production companies. AKS, Alexander Kingsley Studios, my family’s company, was one of them.
We want to make it into a movie, and an option agreement basically means AKS wants to purchase the rights to the script. ”
“Okay, and your Monday meeting will make that happen?”
“Um, sort of. It’s a little more complicated than that though I wish it was that easy.
There’s another production company interested in buying the option, and the screenwriter is undecided.
There’s a family connection or something with that company so it’s a bit messy.
I’m hoping to persuade the writer to choose us. ”
I don’t want to bore her with all the details—how each production company has a different strategy and deal points, which makes the decision not so straightforward for the screenwriter—or let on her how huge this would be for my career.
“Wow, this sounds exciting.” She tears off a piece of a pastry. “What does this mean for you and acting?”
“I’m not going to be doing that anymore. I’ve always wanted to produce and follow in my father’s footsteps.” I pause at how much I sound like a privileged asshole, getting to do what I’ve always dreamed of doing, and in some ways, there’s no denying I am.
Though, like most things in life, nothing is ever as easy as it looks from the outside.
While there was a press release and subsequent news articles about my addition to AKS my father has made it clear, in no uncertain terms, this is a trial run.
None of my achievements so far matter, and our familial connection bears no weight, not that I’d ever use it.
Of course, this isn’t public knowledge, but the possibility of him changing his mind hangs over my head. He doesn’t think I’m serious enough to run AKS, and to his credit, I do have a stellar track record at making headlines for all the wrong reasons.
Being young, single, and one of Hollywood’s most sought-after bachelors kind of guarantees I’ll make waves and cause rumors. But the majority of the news stories about me aren’t true.
All I have to do is walk by a nightclub or some questionable joint in any given city, and suddenly I’m debauched and wasted with my flock of models and young actresses.
Jane’s response slices through the tsunami churning inside me at the thought of everything I’m up against. I must persuade my father that I’m the best person for the job. “This sounds like a big opportunity, Roman. I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks. It is big, and that’s why I came to Houston early. The rest of the team arrives tomorrow night, but I wanted to get my head on straight.”
Scrutiny sparks in her gem-like blue eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Awkwardly, I dip my head, as if avoiding eye contact will make me feel any less exposed. “What do you mean?”
“I’m sensing a ‘but’ in all this. You’re holding back.” She pushes away her almost empty plate. “What is it?”
Incredulous at how astute she is, I barely contain my laughter. “This screenplay is really good. With the right director and cast, Pinwheel has Oscar written all over it. I could make that happen.”
I let out a sigh, reality pressing down on my chest like an elephant.
“But…” Our gazes lock and I can’t remember the last time someone was so fully invested in something I had to say.
Jane’s interest and caring are so blindingly obvious that it causes a strange pang of uncertainty—or is it fear—to sear my insides.
“Go on.” Her soft fingers caress the back of my hand, causing a feverish sensation to race up my spine.
“It doesn’t help that a lot of people in Hollywood want nothing more than to see me fail.”
The only way I’ll change their minds is by showing them what I’m capable of. That’s why Pinwheel matters so much.
“Fail?” She straightens. “Why?”
“Because I’m succeeding. I managed to make it big with my breakout role in Laguna Beach and from there, things have been good.”
Again, there isn’t any point in telling her about all the lows in my career and the shitty things and even shittier people I’ve had to deal with to get where I am. There’s little sympathy—or more importantly, empathy—to be had for someone rich and successful, especially at my age.
“But you’re an amazing actor. You earned the recognition and success you have. I don’t get it.”
“Every industry is competitive and AKS is a significant player. I’d have a lot of power in Hollywood as the head of AKS. Not everyone has been good to me. Some people, people in positions of power, don’t want to see me rise. They don’t want me as competition, or they view me as a threat.”
“Shit, Roman.”
“Yeah, and to make things even more complicated, my father isn’t fully committed to the idea of me taking over AKS, though I think that has more to do with controlling me than anything else.”
I push back my chair and cross my arms over my chest, resigned more than anything else.
“He’s winding down his workload, and he’s talked about selling off parts of the business as one option.
I’ve tried to impress upon him that I’m the best person to carry on his legacy.
Our entire family is in the business. I’ve got brothers and sisters, and most of them are actors.
But apart from Marin, none of them want to produce.
My sister and I have talked about joining forces one day, running AKS together, but that’s someday. Right now, Mare’s still in school.”
“And your dad? He doesn’t like this idea?”
I force a jubilant boom to my voice as if performing. “Sure, on the record, if any reporter or someone in the industry were to ask him, he’d say ‘I love the idea. My kids running AKS, what more could a father want?’”
A wry laugh rumbles out of me, and Jane furrows her brow, mouth grim. “But that’s not true?”
“No. He wants me to jump through hoops, and that’s why the Pinwheel script is critical. If AKS gets the option to the screenplay, it will make my job of convincing him that much easier.”
She slumps in her chair and pushes it away from the table. Her eyes are hazy as if digesting my woes. “That sucks, Roman. But I think you’ll succeed. You’ll get Pinwheel.”
Once more, I chuckle but this time with more mirth. “From your lips to God’s ears.”
She leans forward, placing her elbows on her thighs, and peers up at me.
In a more solemn tone she starts, “On a more serious note, I’m bummed that you won’t be acting anymore.
It’s kind of a tragedy.” Her lips twitch as if she’s trying not to smile.
“I’m not really sure how you could do this to your adoring fans.
All those people you’re depriving. They’ll never get to see you on the screen again. I never thought you were heartless.”