Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
FORD
Following the steps toward a reconciliation of sorts, I’d thought today would have been smooth sailing.
As I look around my current surroundings, I can’t help but feel like a na?ve fool. How could any day involving Lawson Wilde be referred to as smooth sailing?
The asshat himself is currently all over Emmy like a rash, and the reshoot hasn’t even started filming yet.
His excessively loud laughter reverberates through the dressing room as Emmy’s tinkling giggle follows suit. “Law, you are the worst !”
She swats at the hand he’s reached out to place on her knee, sending him a smile that makes her eyes twinkle, belying her words of beratement before she sits up straight for the makeup artist tending to her. My eyes remain fixated on that fucking hand as it continues to linger on her bare flesh, his thumb rubbing small circles around her kneecap.
Rage bubbles just beneath the surface, and I try to get a handle on my usually calm emotions, yet I can’t help but think of how much pleasure it would give me to break each of his fingers.
One. By. One.
The visualization is enough to settle my simmering anger, and as though he’s heard my thoughts, Lawson moves away from Emmy, departing for his own dressing room with a parting wink.
I watch him leave with a dark smirk.
That’s right, asshat. Get gone!
“They make a great couple, don’t they? So damn cute !”
I don’t need to glance to my left to know the owner of the voice is Emmy’s agent, Beck. Instead, I simply nod, unable to keep the deadpan tone from my voice.
“Mmhmm. The cutest.”
As I feel his eyes on me, I give Emmy my full attention, the tension in my chest unfurling when she laughs at something a newly recovered Hayley has whispered in her ear.
“I don’t mean to overstep, Mr. Holloway?—”
Sensing where this is headed, I shift around to meet his eyes, ensuring that my own face gives nothing away. “If you know you don’t mean to overstep, Mr. Reynolds, then why else would you have prefaced your sentence that way?”
Beckham’s eyes narrow ever-so-slightly, and I can physically see him debating whether to continue until he speaks at last. “You left her in pieces once before.”
His words are a blade straight through my fractured heart, and he twists it sharply when he continues. “Do your job. Uncover the person who’s behind the B and E and get the fuck out of her life because I won’t stand back and watch you bring her to ruin for a second time?—”
“Ford?” Hayley’s meek voice cuts Beckham off as we swing our eyes to her. “Em wanted to speak with you before shooting begins…”
Hayley trails off uncomfortably, clearly aware that she interrupted something between me and the agent, until I nod once, sending her a grateful half-smile before striding toward a lonesome Emmy.
She’s sitting cross-legged in her makeup chair, ready for shooting to begin as she scrolls through her cell phone. Her simple black leggings and plain white tank top tell me she’s about to reshoot the characters' meet-cute.
“You needed to see me?”
Her smile reaches her eyes as they meet mine, and suddenly my annoyance at the asshat melts away, along with Beckham’s hard-to-swallow words.
“I…um…I know it’s not in the job description, but could you possibly organize the food situation while we’re here? I’m a little wary about?—”
“It’s already handled.” Folding my arms over my chest, I arch a playful brow. “Your security is my job description. That includes everything that comes within a hair’s breadth of you. And following what happened with Damon, that extends to food, too.”
Emmy’s shoulders sag with relief before she jumps to her feet, dropping her cell onto the vacated seat with a grin. “Do I want to know what you ordered me, or should I assume it’s some of those wonderful tamales?”
I follow alongside her as she walks to set, maintaining a healthy distance despite my desire to be near her.
“No tamales today, I’m afraid. I happen to know of the best deli in Tribeca, and?—”
Emmy stops dead in her tracks, holding out her hands with her eyes blown wide. “Luciano’s?”
I snort a laugh, placing my hand at the small of her back to hurry her along down the corridor even as I ignore the shot of adrenaline the simple action sends through me.
“I’m well aware that it’s your favorite. It’s my job to know. Luciano’s has been my own go-to since moving to the city, and I trust him and his staff implicitly, so it was a no-brainer.”
Then I glance down at her and slide my hand away, feeling bereft at the loss as a frown forms across her brow. She swallows roughly, raising her eyes almost hesitantly to mine as we reach the door that leads into the main set.
“Have you been here in New York this whole time?”
My chest tightens like I’m not getting enough air to my lungs, and I inhale deeply through my nostrils as I nod.
“Never left.” My voice is coarse, fringed with emotion as pain flickers through Emmy’s bright blue gaze, but the moment is splintered before she can voice her thoughts.
“Come on, Em.”
The asshat jogs up behind us, throwing his arms around Emmy to pull her toward the set, leaving me with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach and nothing I can do about it.
It’s a shock that Emmy broached our history, and despite needing to know what she might have said next, I can’t be the one to bring it up again—not when she specifically asked me not to.
With my thoughts shifting between the desire to continue our conversation and ways I can maim Lawson Wilde, I move away to stand silently in the shadows as production begins.
The rest of the morning moves forward as such while I watch over the proceedings alongside Zane, Thom, and Kyle, who are posing as crew members in case of any further incidents.
Best to have all bases covered.
My cell rings between takes, displaying an unknown caller, and I nod to Kyle, alerting him that I need to take it. As I leave the set, I can feel Emmy’s eyes on me, and despite telling myself I should keep my gaze forward, I’m powerless against her pull.
Before I push open the door leading into a long grey corridor, I look back at her, sending her a reassuring smile. Her own lips lift upward in an attempted half-smile that doesn’t meet her eyes, and I’m left wondering why she looks so anxious as I move farther into the corridor.
“Ford speaking.” My tone is curt, and I’m initially met by silence. “Hello? Who’s there? I don’t have time for?—”
“I thought I told you to disappear, Holloway.”
My jaw clenches, teeth grinding so hard against one another that I’m surprised they don’t shatter. “Well, hello to you too, East.”
“I’m not calling to make small talk. I’m calling to remind you of the reasons you walked away in the first place.” His voice is even, having developed more of a Texan twang in the years since he’s taken over Broken Hart following the decline in Danny Hart’s health.
“How’d you even know I’m?—”
“Hayles told me. She’s worried about our sister. And with due cause, I might add.”
I inch open the set door and glance back inside, watching as Emmy thanks one of the crew members for bringing her some lip balm. My eyes remain glued to her as I answer my once-upon-a-time good friend.
“My company was hired to protect your sister after several incidents pertaining to her well-being.” I ensure my words are spoken carefully and succinctly, leaving no doubt about my reasons for being in Emmy’s periphery. “The security detail I assigned was poisoned in Emerson’s stead, and I have stepped in to ensure the perpetrator is uncovered. That alright by you?”
There’s a pause before he hisses a reply. “I don’t fuckin’ trust your intentions?—”
My whole face contorts into a snarl as I cut him off. “Listen here, asshole! I didn’t fuckin’ shatter both of our hearts for no good reason. I told you then, and I’ll remind you once more. I love her enough to lose her. To stand back and watch her be happy with someone who ain’t me, alright? And if you doubt my intentions, don’t doubt the way I feel for your sister because that is somethin’ that’s never changed. That never will change, you hear me?”
And without allowing him to say another damn word, I hang up the call, my heart pounding as my temples throb painfully.
Knowing I can’t go back to set yet, I text Kyle quickly.
ME
Got held up. Be another couple of minutes.
I’ve just reached the sanctity of Emmy’s silent dressing room, when I hear my cell ping with a reply.
KYLE
Gotcha Boss Man.
Striding directly for the restroom, I lock the door behind me and turn on the cold tap, allowing it to run for a minute before splashing ice-cold water onto my face.
Easton’s call has shaken me more than I’d like to admit, and as I stare at my dripping-wet reflection in the mirror, my mind can’t help recalling the day everything turned to shit.
“Did you forget your key again, Tink?”
I’m chuckling to myself as I close my laptop on the kitchen island and jog down the hallway leading to the dark wooden door of Emmy’s parents’ brownstone.
Emmy’s dad, Tristan, and her stepmom, Reese, are in Europe for the summer, so it’s been just the two of us, with the occasional visit from Hayley, who’s been sworn to secrecy on penalty of revoking the best friend card, according to Em, for the last three glorious months.
From my first time meeting Hayley, I could see why Emmy had always spoken so highly of her, and we’d hit it off almost immediately. We still haven’t decided how we’re going to tell the rest of her family about our relationship, but we do know that we want to handle it delicately where Easton is concerned.
Emmy has reached out to him, asking him to come and visit so that we can tell him in person. We both feel that seeing us together, and how committed we both are, is better than hearing it over a phone call, even if the thought of his reaction makes me more than a little apprehensive.
Where Emmy is the very epitome of calm, her older brother is unpredictable, to say the least.
Even so, I know in my heart that me and Emmy are end game, and it’s well past time to share it with the world.
The buzzer sounds again as I reach the door, and I grin at her impatience.
Emmy’s been forgetful lately as she’s juggled rehearsals for two off-Broadway shows she’s been cast in, alongside preparing for more significant roles in upcoming auditions, like her one with Hans Lieberman later this week.
I’m dwelling on how excited I am to potentially see all her hard work pay off as I open the door, only to be met with a fist to the nose that sends me reeling backward into the hall.
Blood spatter fills my vision as I blink stupidly, trying to stand up, but I don’t get the chance. The owner of the fist climbs over me, and I blindly try to block the next two, three, four, five blows, but despite my best efforts, he clearly has the upper hand.
Suddenly, he stops pummeling me to jerk me up by the scruff of my shirt, getting right down into my face.
I blink through my blurred vision until, eventually, the haziness ebbs away, and I’m left staggered as I stare up at my friend.
“Easton?”
His face is a parody of itself. His lips are pulled back in a snarl, and his eyes are filled with undiluted disgust while he watches me. Sweat beads across his forehead from his exertions as he spits, “How long?”
I open my mouth to answer, taking too long in my groggy state, only for him to slam my body against the hall’s tiled floor.
“How long have you been fucking my little sister, Holloway? Defiling her with your family’s disgrace ! How long have you been using her for your own gain, hmm? I bet you’re even living here in my parents’ house with nothing to your name, you worthless, lying sack of shit.”
He huffs a laugh. “Not that your name will be worth a damn when your family’s shame is finally made public knowledge. When Jasper Holloway’s trial is plastered across every television screen in the country.”
Finally finding my voice, I pull away from him, pushing his hands off, and even though he could have kept me pinned, he rolls away, watching me from the opposite side of the hall as I pull myself upright.
I’m panting, sucking in oxygen desperately as I declare, “I know this isn’t the right way to find out about us, East, but I love your sister. I love her with my whole damn heart. I’d lay my life at her feet ? —”
He snorts darkly, cutting me off with a bark. “What? And you expect her to do the same for you? To give up her life? Her dreams? Because that’s what will happen once the trial is public knowledge. Once the world knows of her association with the murdering Holloway bastards ? —”
“Fuck you! My father acted alone . The rest of my family are innocent, and you damn well know that, East.”
He shrugs, almost nonchalantly, if it wasn’t for the barely bridled fury coming off him in waves.
“The industry won’t see it that way. Guilty by association.” He looks me up and down pointedly, a smirk playing on his mouth. “Tarred with the same brush you’ve run from Texas to avoid.”
I sit up straighter, shaking my head to deny his accusation, but he continues swiftly. “Not a single person in the industry will touch her once they discover she’s in love with the son of a convicted felon. Mark my words; once it gets out, all chances for the life she’s dreamed of will be gone. Poof ! Up in flames.”
My brow knots into a heavy frown as the truth breaks through the bubble that Emmy and I have unwittingly placed ourselves in these last three blissful months, but he continues tearing everything apart with words that strike a chord deep within me.
“If you ask her to choose, you know what her choice will be.”
And he’s right. I do know. Em’s selflessness, ability to see the good in people, and unwavering loyalty are some of the things I love most about her.
She’ll stand by me to the bitter end, throwing away everything she’s worked so hard for. The dream of following in her mother’s footsteps. All gone because I’m too weak to do what’s best for her.
I need to leave.
The crystal-clear facts that I’ve spent three months ignoring settle like a dead weight in the pit of my stomach as the thought of hurting the person I love more than anything makes my heart throb more painfully than any of the physical damage Easton’s assault has.
He pushes himself to stand, staring me down with a burning hatred in his usually warm brown eyes. “You’re an intelligent man, Holloway—a piece of shit human, but intelligent just the same. I know you’ll do what’s right. And by that, I mean disappear and make sure she can’t fucking find you.”
His feet move to leave, but as he reaches the doorway, he stops when I call out, “I’ll leave, East, but you best believe I’m not doing it for you .”
His shoulders stiffen, and my voice drops. “I’ll leave because I love her enough to lose her. To let her find happiness even when I know I won’t be a part of it. To have a full life that doesn’t include me, even though it breaks my fuckin’ heart.”
I swallow past the ball of emotion lodged in my throat, my words hoarse, raw, and haunting. “Because I will love Emerson with every breath that I take from this day until my last. And no one can ever take that away.”
It takes several minutes before the combination of agony and fury that’s pumping inside of me recedes, and I can take a deep, calming breath.
I did disappear. Even though I couldn’t bring myself to leave, I needed to be close. Even though I’ve been under her nose for five years, I ensured she wouldn’t have been able to find me.
Until now.
I steel myself, remembering I have a job to do here, regardless of my personal involvement, and it’s with that at the forefront of my mind that I return to set unprepared for the sight that greets me when I walk through the stage door.
Suddenly, the reason for Emmy’s anxious glances earlier makes sense as my eyes rake across the scene before me because right there, on a king-size bed lit up beneath studio lights, are Emmy and her asshat boyfriend. There’s not an inch between them as their mouths devour one another.
Breathy moans that I’m intimately familiar with reach my ears, sending a confusing jolt of awareness to my cock.
I’ve seen every production Emmy’s been in. Multiple times. It’s not the first time I’ve watched a scene like this, but seeing it in the flesh is a sucker punch to the gut.
Yet I’m rooted to the spot, unable to take my eyes from them even as nausea rises at the back of my throat when a smug Beckham Reynolds ambles by, making his way off-set.
He smirks right as he escapes into the corridor, shooting his parting shot over his shoulder with blatant triumph in his voice.
“Bet their sex life is off the goddamn charts.”