15. Isla
ISLA
“So, you didn’t talk to Callum before he left?” Davy asked as Isla sat in front of the mirror for hair and makeup.
“Nope. I’m not ready to talk to him.” Isla shrugged and lifted her chin as Molly, the makeup artist, brushed some powder onto her neckline.
“I get it. I’d be furious too. Boyd and Antony are singing his praises, but that’s not necessarily a good thing. Chauvinists.”
Isla cut her eyes with disgust. She didn’t care if Tomas had two billion social media followers. And maybe, maybe if Callum had bothered to suggest the idea to her first, she would have considered it.
But for him to go over her head?
That was completely unacceptable. Not to mention unprofessional.
I feel so undermined.
A tap on the door redirected her attention. Boyd poked his head in the trailer. “Ready to go?”
“Give me two minutes,” Molly called, reaching for another brush.
“Tim already got the mic and camera on you, though?” Boyd asked Isla.
She nodded, a flutter of nerves going through her. “Yup, I’m all set.”
Boyd smiled, then moved out of sight again.
“Hey, hand me that stack of index cards over there,” Isla said, pointing at a nearby table. She’d taken the time last night to write down the scripted parts on the cards to help her memorize the facts about the wine festival. “We’re starting at the Eiffel Tower, right?”
Davy nodded. “We have about five hours before the VIP reception for the wine festival this afternoon. The town is super excited about the feature on the show, so they’re pulling out all the stops. Locals are nice.”
The trailer door opened again, and Boyd stepped through, this time carrying a clipboard.
He looked straight at Isla. “Quick question. Could you give Aiden these? He’s riding over to the Eiffel Tower with you.
Just in case he’s in any shots if he’s hanging around the set, he needs to sign release papers.
” He winked at Isla and handed her the clipboard.
“Thanks, love. I’m heading over there now. ”
“Why’s Aiden staying?” Davy asked as Boyd left again.
“I can appreciate the fact that he’s interested in seeing what this is all about, but between him, Callum, and Tomas popping in out of the blue—” She sighed.
“I know I’m only a lowly producer on this, but I just hate it when I feel so out of the loop. ”
“I have no idea. It does rather feel like the men have all taken over this show, doesn’t it? I’m surprised Boyd didn’t tell you about Tomas, though. You’d think he would have done that at the very least.”
Davy shrugged, but Isla caught the hurt on her face. “He’s the director. If this was a normal film set, I’d outrank him, but our crew is so small that his importance tends to be overplayed. If Antony gives a green flag on anything, he rarely cares about what I think.”
That was such bullshit.
Molly’s presence—since Isla didn’t know her or her loyalties—kept her from saying that, though. But it was true. Davy had worked so hard not only to develop this idea but also to bring it to life.
For weeks, Isla had been getting daily emails from Davy, who’d gone home from Vegas via towns she hoped to film in, researching and taking the week to scout and take pictures.
She’d fast-tracked filming permissions with mayors and sheriffs all over, not an easy feat.
She’d worked so hard, and Isla admired her grit and determination.
Only to have Antony and Boyd come along and make a last-minute change without even consulting her?
As soon as she stepped out of the trailer with Davy, Isla reached over and gripped her hand. “The audacity of the men in our lives is out of control. I’m here for you; I just want you to know that. You’re the only reason I’m here.”
Davy squeezed her hand. “I know.”
Isla climbed into the waiting van as Davy took the passenger seat. Aiden was already in the back. “Good morning,” he said with a smile, then held out a cup toward her. “Got you this for the road.”
She frowned down at the paper cup, then sipped it. “Chai tea latte? How did you know?”
“You forget I’ve known you forever,” he replied with a smirk. “I remember you begging for chai every time you came to our house for tea when we were children. That and your godawful pronunciation of croissant .” He handed her a bag with one in it.
“You try navigating the linguistic gymnastics that are required when growing up in so many transatlantic locations. I never quite knew how to pronounce anything.” She opened the bag to the warm, buttery scent. “Thank you.”
The driver of the van started forward, and she held tighter to her cup to keep it from spilling.
“There’s a bakery down the street on a quaint little square called Paris Bakery. They can’t pronounce them either. Seemed apt.”
“Where’s my croissant and chai tea?” Davy asked with a chuckle from the front. “I’m Indian and English, you know. I love chai. Actually, it’s the only tea that doesn’t taste like dirty dishwater to me.”
With a deadpan expression, Aiden handed another bag and cup over to her. “As offended as I now am, on behalf of our national drink, I didn’t forget you, Davy.”
Davy grinned. “Keep this up, and you can be our official craft services for the set. Don’t worry, I’ll find a way to put you to work if you hang around here long enough.”
“Oh! Speaking of which,” Isla said, then unfastened her index cards from the clipboard Boyd had given to her. “Boyd wanted you to sign this. Some release form since you’re going to be around the film crew.”
“Release form?” Aiden took it and scanned it with a frown. “For what? I leave for New York tomorrow.”
“I don’t know, ask Boyd. I think he was worried you might get in some of the shots, and he wants to have all the legal bits and bobs taken care of. I just sign where I’m told and don’t question it, unlike you business types.”
“It’s just a standard form,” Davy said with a shrug. “Boyd is meticulous about that sort of thing. Just fill in the highlighted parts and sign it.”
Unfastening the attached pen, Aiden did as Davy had directed, then handed it to her. “What’s on the agenda for the day?”
“We’re going to film a segment by the Eiffel Tower to introduce the town and get some footage of our stars discussing their honest thoughts about the tower.
Then we’ll come back to the town square and film in the center of town.
Any place of significance, Isla will introduce to the audience.
The rest of the time, we’ll just be following them.
At some point, we’ll cut for lunch, and after, we’ll move to the VIP reception for the wine festival.
The goal is to get as much interaction as we can with the locals but also get to know Isla and Kyle . ..and Tomas.”
Isla tore off a piece of the croissant and ate it. “Did you read the emails Davy sent? Most of this was in them.”
Aiden’s gaze faltered. “I get quite a few emails a day.”
A polite way of saying no.
Also a reminder of who he was.
He wasn’t just Aiden Camden, friend from childhood and man she’d ended up doing God-knows-what with in Vegas.
He was the CEO of a major corporation. And worth billions.
The thought made her throat thicken, the realization suddenly overwhelming her.
She’d been so bold, hadn’t she, going up to Aiden and just treating him like an everyday man.
Even Callum was wealthy by his own right—from working at Aiden’s family business—but he’d never come close to the wealth or position that Aiden had.
And, as if that wasn’t enormous enough, his father was a member of the peerage. An earl.
The sheer ridiculousness of it made her laugh—sharp and breathless, like it had slipped out by accident.
Aiden’s brows furrowed. “You all right?”
“I think I’ve just realized just what it is you do for a living —who you are. And it’s?—”
“Crashed your processing system?” Davy provided helpfully.
His lips pursed. “What do you mean?”
“Aiden! You’re the CEO of a major defense contractor.” Isla’s eyes widened as she stared at him. “What are you doing here? Maybe I’ve been living in Costa Rica too long. It’s just. ..so insane to think about.”
Aiden gave her an odd frown, then exchanged a look with Davy.
“You spent too long on earth, and now it’s hard to remember what it’s like to walk with angels?” Davy asked with a laugh. “That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said, Isla. You don’t know what it’s like to be around normal people. You’ve spent most of your life with the upper crust.”
Isla sipped her chai, feeling shaky.
My God, I’m having an identity crisis.
Davy wasn’t wrong.
Her father had been wealthy from old money in England. That was how she knew the Camdens.
But her mother—a bisexual hippie from Costa Rica who loved yoga and the beach?
When she’d lived with her mother, it was like Isla had a completely different life.
Like she was a different person. She’d left that, mostly, when she went to boarding school in Connecticut and moved to London, where her friends were actors and models.
Film and theater folks. Maybe not as wealthy, but definitely not just average run-of-the-mill people .
And then she’d gone back to Costa Rica, where the people she saw on a daily basis were Sergio and her mum . . . Kyle.
Tourists and locals.
All people who’d lived ordinary lives. Maybe Kyle’s sisters lived in more elite circles now, but they hadn’t before.
Sergio wasn’t wealthy at all. She’d met his family.
And the inn guests? Even though it was a boutique inn, they were just average citizens.
I don’t know who I am anymore. Which world I belong in.
I’m not sure I belong in either world.
Before she could say anything—not that she was even sure she wanted to voice any of these thoughts—the van pulled up in front of a sixty-five-foot-tall Eiffel Tower replica with a red cowboy hat on top.
Davy hopped out, already speaking into her headset, and Isla glanced up at Aiden, her heartbeat slow and shallow.
“You look pale,” he said in a low voice.
“I’m not sure I feel so well.”
“Why don’t we step out of the van? Get some fresh air?”
She nodded, and he opened the door, then helped her out. He held on to her elbow gently and, rather than guiding her toward the group for the production, he led her closer to the Eiffel Tower, then released her. “That’s... something , isn’t it?”
Isla lifted her gaze toward the cowboy hat, then smiled. “It’s kind of sweet, I have to admit. I didn’t know if I would like it, but now that I see it, I do.”
“Texans know how to put their brand on things, don’t they? I saw a shirt in a store earlier with I Love Paris on it. Except where there would normally be a heart shape, there was a shape of the state.”
“Of course.” She smiled, trying to catch her breath, still feeling jittery and out of sorts. Her hand trembled when she lifted her chai to her lips again.
Aiden’s fingertips brushed against hers, and she caught her breath, a warm rush of tingles going up her wrist. “Hey. Look at me for a moment.”
She swallowed hard, then turned her gaze toward his.
“I’m just Aiden. And you’re just Isla.”
“But you’re not?—”
“But I am .” Aiden gave her a gentle smile.
“And I need to be. To you, anyway. I don’t want you looking at me the way you did in that van.
Quinn was supposed to be the head of the company—he’s the one with the title.
I just fell into the role I’m in when he abdicated, but that doesn’t mean it’s how I ever saw myself.
Or how I see myself now. I don’t live in a penthouse or drive an expensive car.
And some days, I wish I could go back to the military, where life was simple and the meals were shite, but at least I had friends who valued my friendship and not competitors who only valued my pocketbook. ”
“Why does it matter how I look at you?” Isla asked dryly.
Yet something in his words hit her hard.
Like he knew. He understood.
He saw her.
“It just does.”
She swallowed a lump in her throat and nodded. “I’m not sure where I belong anymore, Aiden. What world I’m really a part of. Living the bohemian, salt-of-the-earth existence on the beach—where I’ve also worked harder than I ever have in my entire life—has changed me.”
“That’s understandable.” He held her gaze.
“I’ve felt that same confusion before—in the military.
Helped me to think about the last time I felt like I belonged.
And that led me back to London. And it wasn’t a career or prestige that called to me as much as it was my family. I wanted to be a part of them again.”
She smiled wistfully, remembering the way Aiden had vanished for a while. How strange it had been when she visited the Camdens with Callum, and Aiden wasn’t there. Like a huge, gaping hole, really. She’d been so happy when he’d left the military.
The idea that Aiden had needed to go off and find himself , though, had never occurred to her.
When is the last time I felt like I belonged?
“I’m not sure if I know when I even stepped off course. Moving to Costa Rica felt so right—so fun. Fixing up the inn, painting the rooms, and designing the new layout was so exciting. I think I ran on sheer adrenaline for months until reality set in.”
“Isla Scott . . . adrenaline junkie. I might have known.”
That delicious brush of his fingertips came again, and she held her breath. Then she reached her own fingers toward his, letting the back of her knuckle trail against the palm of his hand.
“Isla, darling.” Tomas sauntered toward her, arms extended. “Ready for this?”
Before she could answer, he caught her in a hug and lifted her off her feet, twirling her around before setting her back down again on the tips of her toes.
The action had the effect of setting her off balance, and her cup dropped out of her hand, landing in the grass beside her.
She leaned into his broad, strong chest, the spice of his cologne filling her nostrils with its familiarity and warmth.
He brushed a kiss against her temple. “This is going to be fun,” Tomas breathed.
Fun. She managed a smile, then pulled back. “Can’t wait,” she forced out, then leaned over to grab her fallen cup. But the lid had popped off, and the tea spilled.
She sneaked a glance back toward Aiden once again.
He was gone.