Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
EMERSON
Aged 24
Manhattan
“You want us to what ?”
My agent, Beck, regards me with a no-nonsense gaze despite my clear incredulity. He’s been with me since the beginning, even before I made the move from the theater to the big screen, and I trust him implicitly, but this …
“It’s not like it’s the first time co-stars have fake dated to drum up more publicity.” Beck’s eyes shift from me to my co-star and lead singer of Wilde, Lawson Wilde, who’s idly scrolling his cell, looking like he couldn’t give less of a shit.
“It would only be for a week or two, guys. A handful of events together, maybe a date night here and there—” He bolts upright as though having an eureka moment. “Besides, you two actually respect and genuinely like one another, which is a lot more than can be said for a great many in the business, eh?”
Law lifts wide brown eyes to mine, his deep British accent as suave as ever. “I’m game if you are, Em.” One side of his mouth draws up like a bow as mischief dances across his face. “Besides…it’ll be fun to fuck with the paps. All publicity is good publicity, isn’t that what they say?”
He waggles his eyebrows, making me chuckle despite myself before Beck clears his throat. “Am I to take it that you’re both in?”
My skeptical gaze holds Lawson’s laughter-filled one until he presses his palms together in a pleading motion, his bottom lip curving downward in exaggerated sadness. Huffing at his hangdog expression, I throw my hands up in defeat, and my own snort of laughter soon joins his. “ Fine ! But only if we keep it limited to until a week after the premiere. Deal?”
I extend my hand, and Law takes it with a wink. “Deal.” His smile grows exponentially. “Starting today. We’ll leave the set holding hands. It’ll spark a media storm.”
As I’m shaking my head at my co-star’s love of fucking with the paparazzi, there’s a knock on the door to my dressing room.
“Come in.”
My eyes bulge when Jack Remington, the head of Vesper, steps inside, closely followed by Alex DeMarco, owner of the studio that has made my career.
“So sorry to bother you, Miss Hart.” Jack extends a hand, which I accept with a small smile. “Mr DeMarco wanted to speak with you?—”
He glances at Law and Beck, who are watching on with wide eyes, before continuing pointedly. “ In private .”
Both men scuffle out of sight faster than a speeding bullet, with Jack following them, gently closing the door to leave me alone with Alex DeMarco.
He shakes my hand with a chuckle. “That’s one way to empty a room.”
I nod with an easy grin before gesturing to the couch. “Please take a seat, Mr. DeMarco. Can I grab you something to drink?”
“Please, call me Alex.” He shoots me a lopsided grin. “Mr. DeMarco is my pain in the ass older brother.”
A peal of laughter spills from my lips, and I move to join Alex on the couch when he indicates I should sit by him.
“Now we have the formalities out of the way, I’ll get straight to it, Emerson. You were recently the victim of a home invasion, correct?”
I clench my jaw as my stomach bottoms out, nausea swirling deep inside of me. “I prefer the term break-in. Home invasion sounds so…so…”
“Serious?” At my nod, Alex continues, reaching between us to pat the back of the hand I’ve rested atop my knee. “That’s because it is serious, Emerson. We take the safety of everyone under the corporate umbrella of DeMarco Holdings very seriously.”
He gives me a moment to allow that to sink in, watching me closely with warm whisky-colored eyes. At my slight nod, he elaborates.
“And as such, I’m here today because I’ve taken the liberty of hiring security for you. Private security that I can personally vouch for, seeing as the owner of the company, Sentinel, is one of my closest friends.”
The name Sentinel is familiar to me as I’ve seen them run security for a number of events I’ve attended, though using a company such as theirs feels more than a little extra. And everyone knows I’m the furthest thing from a diva.
I blink several times, my brow furrowing. “Is there really a need for private security, Mr. De—I mean, Alex ? I’ve never required any before beyond the norm.”
His gaze darkens while he regards me as though weighing his options until he speaks again, his words sending a shiver down my spine.
“There was a break-in here yesterday, too.”
I inhale sharply. “ What ?”
Alex nods, raking his hand through his hair and messing it up so that the once carefully styled locks fall across his brow. “Seemingly, a fan left a similar note to the one found in your penthouse. They also took some items from this room.” He clears his throat, looking slightly uncomfortable when he murmurs, “Items of a highly personal nature.”
I glance about the space, suddenly feeling as though the walls have eyes. Goosebumps pebble my skin before I shift my attention back to Alex. “When does he start?”
“Here they come!”
My grandpa’s heavily accented voice fills with delight as a huge SUV pulling a horse trailer barrels onto his property, Broken Hart Ranch, where my brother Easton and I are spending the summer following Mom’s sudden passing earlier this year in a tragic hit-and-run.
The driver had yet to be found, which Dad had taken really hard. It was almost like he blamed himself, in a way.
Up until recently, our interactions with our father’s father had been fleeting, but with Dad needing time to grieve, Grandpa offered to take us. Both Easton and I adore him, so the move was a no-brainer.
But at ten and fourteen, respectively, our interests could not be more different. While Easton was off learning the ropes and everything running a huge cattle ranch entails—declaring how he plans on moving here and taking over the ranch, which had earned a self-satisfied grin from our grandfather, I’m more excited to choose a horse from Whispering Willows, the breeding ranch on the Circle H property that’s owned by Grandpa’s neighbors, the Holloways.
“Do you think they’ll have one I’ll like, Grampie?” I bounce up and down on the balls of my feet, excitement coursing through me at the idea of owning my very own horse. At the knowledge that I’ll get to learn how to ride, something Easton took to immediately, but due to my smaller stature, Grandpa has insisted I wait to learn with a horse more suited to me.
As we approach the SUV, a blonde, exceptionally handsome man jumps out of the driver’s side with a grin. “Afternoon, Danny. Y’all ready for some of Whispering Willows’ finest quarter horses?”
I nod enthusiastically, making Grandpa snort. “We sure are, Sully. You wanna lead ’em into the corral for us?”
A boy’s voice calls out, “I gotcha, Danny!”
And the owner blows past us in a blur. My eyes follow the motion, landing on a tall, dark-haired boy unlocking the back doors of the trailer with speedy accuracy before he ducks inside.
“Thank you, Ford. Might you be so kind as to take one out for a spin round?”
The boy, Ford, nods when he reemerges, leading a stunning palomino, and I notice the startling blue of his determined eyes as he walks the horse into the empty corral. Once the gate is closed behind him, he smoothly swings himself up into the saddle, and with a small murmur to the horse beneath him, the palomino takes off into a light canter.
I watch on, wholly mesmerized, as the boy and horse become a single being, moving as though part of one another. In fact, I’m so fixated on the show before me that I vaguely register Grandpa and Sully speaking at my back. When Ford comes to a halt, he slides out of his seat to land softly on the ground before leading the palomino back to the fence, where I’m still watching, enthralled.
As he reaches me, he extends the hand holding the reins, and with a wry grin that makes his eyes sparkle, he announces, “Your turn, Tinker Bell.”
I scrunch up my eyes and tilt my head to one side in question. “Tinker Bell?”
“Yeah.” He chuckles. “I’mma call you Tink.” His grin turns into a dazzling smile that I can’t help but mirror with one of my own. “Blonde, pint-sized, and oozin’ pixie dust, you can’t tell me there’s another name you go by.”
“Earth to Emerson.” Hayley waves her hands across my line of vision, forcibly tugging me from my reminiscing and into the present as our town car zips through Manhattan traffic toward our temporary residence on the Upper East Side. “Is anyone home?”
I shake my head, pushing all thoughts of Ford Holloway firmly out of my mind, something I’ve tried to do for years now, but to no avail.
Damn him!
“Sorry, Hayles.” I scrub my palms down my face with a weary sigh. “It’s been a long day. I’m in desperate need of a soak. What were you saying?”
As Hayley launches into a tirade about the catering staff getting her coffee order wrong today, I catch Damon’s eye in the rearview mirror.
My new bodyguard for all intents and purposes had been introduced to everyone on set earlier today after my visit from Alex DeMarco, and I must admit, his stalwart presence is a comfort in the aftermath of Alex’s news.
I stifle a shudder at the thought before shooting him a small smile as he returns his attention to the road while I try my hardest to tune in to Hayley’s ongoing story. And I can’t help but wonder if I made the right call five years ago.
Stepping into the spotlight with Hans Liebermann had sounded like a dream come true at the time, but no one warns you of the lack of anonymity if you do make it to the big time.
And that’s where I’m at. The fucking big time.
America’s Sweetheart…that’s what the media has begun to call me because, for some reason, they seem to love me. I’m their golden girl when all I really ever wanted was to be his girl.
His Tink.
I squeeze my eyes shut, swallowing past the sudden lump in my throat as I count to five in my mind.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
His face flashes behind my closed lids, as beautiful as the last time I kissed him goodbye, wrapping myself inside the security of his embrace, only to return to an empty house, and my chest physically aches at the memory.
Five . Five. Five. Fucking five.
Then I blow out a slow breath, willing the ache to leave, just like he did, but it’s impossible. That pain has been my constant companion.
It’s as present now as it was then.
So, when I open my eyes again to find that Hayley is still chattering away, I force myself to listen. I force myself to put Ford Holloway in the past because that’s where he needs to stay.
And even so, as Hayley prattles on about the lack of emphasis to detail within the Vesper catering staff, visions of my first horse-riding lesson and the subsequent years continue to resonate through my mind.
Encouraging smiles turning to lingering glances becoming heated kisses…and I know as surely as I know my own name, I’ll never be able to move past the man who took all of my firsts.
The same man who broke my heart.
The one who's never far from my thoughts.
The one who’s far too deeply embedded within my soul to ever truly leave…