Chapter 14
IVY
Icy fingers had scrabbled across my skin when I’d picked up Ian’s phone and saw the partial text from Jack. Now, facing Ian, the ice had numbed me as his demeanor and posture confirmed the worst. He might be a liar, but he was no good at concealing his emotions.
“I...you...”
I cut him off. “Don’t attack me for looking at your phone and texts. It was sitting there, face up, when I was brushing crumbs off the table. It buzzed, and I glanced at it. Kinda hard to miss this text.”
I brought the phone close to my face and read aloud in my best English accent. “Pap call worked, mate. Good pictures.”
He put his hands together as if in prayer and rested the tips of his fingers against his scruffy chin. “Guilty. I approved it, and Jack set it up. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how much it would upset you. I felt like a right prat when you started crying last night.”
His words sucked the wind out of my sails, and my shoulders slumped. “You don’t even get it. I wasn’t crying for myself. I was crying because of how that one guy was treating you, the questions he was shouting. It was vile.”
“I appreciate that, Ivy.”
He placed his hands over his heart. “Your defense of me—it means everything, but I’ve been dealing with that shit for a very long time. For someone like me, it’s the price you pay for the rewards. And Jack’s not wrong. It worked. The comments were mostly positive; the pictures generated a vibe and having you by my side only added to the glowing aura. It was a win for me, but I’m sorry it hurt you.”
I sniffed. “Why didn’t you just tell me? I felt blindsided.”
He tossed his hat on the sofa, and then sat down beside it, hunched forward, his elbows on his knees. “I didn’t want you to think I was a dick. I don’t ever want to seem desperate or weak in your eyes. Does that make sense to you?”
He had no idea how much.
“I don’t see you that way. I understand you inhabit a different kind of world, and you thrive on publicity. I think if you had told me, I would’ve handled it better.”
I cupped his phone in my hands, and he glanced up, a little closed-lipped smile on his face. I coughed. “Or, maybe not.”
“If I’d told you what was planned, you probably would’ve refused to go out, and I didn’t want to ruin your night. That little scuffle at the end of the evening didn’t spoil anything, did it? We still had a great time. I got a banger out of it, and as Jack pointed out in his text, the pap call worked.”
I opened my hands and walked toward him. “I suppose you’d like to read his text. I’m sorry I looked at it.”
He shrugged as he took his phone from me. “I believe that you just happened to see it. Chloe probably turned the phone over when she thought it was hers.”
He patted the cushion beside him. “Do you want to sit here and read it with me?”
I dropped down beside him, leaving a few inches of space between us. I couldn’t let him know I forgave him so readily. I understood better than anyone why he didn’t tell me, but it still felt like betrayal.
I leaned over his arm as he began to read Jack’s text aloud. “Pap call worked, mate. Good pictures—you know that part.”
He tapped the message and continued. “Good accompanying article with some positive spin for you. Ivy looked hot—”
Ian growled and bit my shoulder “—and fan reaction to her was good. She’s a PR dream, and nobody has identified her, yet.”
My body stiffened, and I clasped my hands between my knees. Yet. Maybe I should leave the country with Ian.
“He ends it. Talked to Hugh, and he said you even sent him a song that night. Comeback time, mate.”
Ian placed a steadying hand on my bouncing knees. “Ain’t so bad, huh?”
“Not so bad but a weird way to live your life.”
“It’s all I’ve known for a long time, but I like the life you’ve shown me here. I feel like the moment we went on that Ferris wheel at the pier, we entered a bubble, and it hasn’t popped, yet.”
“I think that article was the first pinprick.”
“I know.”
He cupped my face with one hand and kissed me. “Let’s go on our hike, and I promise there won’t be any paparazzi hiding in the bushes.”
Maybe not, but with my face splashed across several gossip sites, it might be just a matter of time before someone ID’d me—the real me.
***
The following day, Chloe decided to treat me to a pedicure and lunch to apologize for blabbing about me to Ian. I had ripped Chloe a new one, especially for telling Ian I took all my dates to see Van. That wasn’t even true. Two guys—one hated the concert and the other used it as leverage to take me to a heavy metal tribute, all-day head-banger that left me with a raging headache.
The night with Ian had been magical...until it wasn’t. The stunt worked out for him, so I couldn’t blame him too much. I forgave easily—people in glass houses and all that—which was why I was sitting next to Chloe at the nail salon with my feet soaking in bubbling water.
I’d been tuning out Chloe’s yapping until I heard the word England. Cranking my head to the side, I said, “What are talking about?”
“I know you have me on ignore.”
Chloe adjusted her massage chair. “I asked you when Ian was going back to England.”
“The day after tomorrow.”
Saying the words out loud caused a dull ache in my stomach, and I folded my hands across it. “I have one more outing planned for him at the Getty Villa. We started our sight-seeing tour at the Getty Center, so I thought it would be serendipitous to end it with the antiquities at the Getty Villa. Then we can have lunch in Malibu.”
“Sounds dull. And?”
“And what?”
“Are you going with him? Are you going to follow him out there? Go for an extended visit? Has he invited you? Wait—”
Chloe covered her mouth, her newly painted nails a shimmering blue to match her eyes “—the fuckwad didn’t invite you.”
I drummed my own nails, short and unpolished, on the armrest of my chair. “He did invite me. He wants me to join him—forever.”
“What?”
Chloe’s jaw dropped. “Girl, no. That’s what he said?”
“Sort of. I mean, that was his implication. He said he’s not into long-distance romances, and he wants me with him.”
I giggled and curled my toes as the manicurist scrubbed the bottoms of my feet.
“Oh my, God. You’re going, aren’t you? Ivy, you have to go with him. He has his issues for sure, but he’s so into you, and—”
she leveled a long fingernail at me “—he’s loaded, mega-rich.”
“Yeah, I know he must have some money after his years with the band, but that’s not his main attraction, not for me.”
“Well, it doesn’t hurt, especially given his recent escapades. And some money? Are you kidding? He’s worth about eighty million dollars.”
This time my jaw dropped. “No.”
“What do you mean? You really don’t know? I thought you looked him up.”
“I didn’t look up his net worth.”
“Why the hell not? I did. That’s one of the first things I did look up when you told me he was at our place sleeping in your bed.”
“That can’t be right.”
I scooped up my phone from my lap and did a search for Ian Pope’s net worth, praying he’d never accidentally pick up my phone and see my search history. The figure on the screen dazed me. “It says here approximately eighty-five million dollars. What do you do with that much money?”
“Anything you want. Now do you see why you have to go with him?”
“I don’t lo...like him for his money. He wouldn’t be the same person with the same characteristics without his experiences, but money doesn’t factor into our relationship. That’s gross.”
“It will play a role if you have to fly back and forth from the US to the UK. You can’t afford to do that. It’s just practical. Anyway, like you said, it doesn’t matter if he has it or not. You’re already in lo...like with him.”
Chloe gave me a wink.
With our newly painted toes, we hobbled three doors down to a breakfast place and secured a table on the patio in the back. This was just the type of place, the whole block, actually, where paparazzi hung out in their quest for celebrity photos. After realizing how close my place was to Montana Avenue, Ian had suggested several restaurants here for dinner. I’d shot them all down. Maybe if I’d relented, he wouldn’t have had to stage his own ambush.
Chloe ordered a cinnamon bun French toast and a mimosa, and I got the a?ai bowl with a cup of herbal tea. When her drink came, Chloe tapped on the champagne flute with her nail. “Are you ever going to drink again? It’s not like you have a problem with it.”
“Eventually. I just don’t think it’s polite or wise to drink in front of someone in recovery.”
“Eh. It’s not like he’s going to get drunk on your kiss.”
Chloe took a dainty sip of her drink. “He’s gonna have to get used to it at some point, especially in the music industry. You remember that guy I dated, Nico, who was a roadie. He said half the concerts he worked were fueled by booze and blow.”
I dredged my teabag in the hot water with a trembling hand. I knew you couldn’t be responsible for anyone else’s sobriety, but you could be helpful and supportive. Ian could navigate his recovery on his own, without me, if he really wanted it.
Chloe asked, “Is Ian going to be touring for this album he’s releasing?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Have you heard any of his new songs?”
“Yeah, he has a songwriting app on his laptop, so he’s been working with that, which is what he’s doing today. He can compose with it, and he’s been putting some of the songs together and sending them to his writing partner. Before you ask—”
I held up the swinging teabag over my cup “—they’re really good.”
“You definitely have to go with him. Just don’t sell your place. I’ll keep renting it from you. And if he buys you a mansion in the Bu, I’ll rent that from you, too.”
“Please.”
I rolled my eyes. “Nobody is buying anyone mansions in Malibu.”
“You could always ask.”
Chloe twirled her finger in the air. “You kinda have him wrapped around your finger.”
“What nonsense.”
But I secretly felt a little glow in my heart even though I didn’t completely agree with Chloe. To have someone wrapped around your finger implied you held all the power, but I felt helpless to resist Ian. Every time we made love, he possessed me, body and soul. It terrified me that I’d allowed it to happen.
As the waitress delivered our food, Chloe waved a fork at me. “That smile right there says Malibu mansion.”
I thanked the waitress and kicked Chloe under the table, risking my newly painted toenails. “Just shut it. If I do decide to move across the pond, you’ll be the first to know, and of course you can stay in my place—in Santa Monica.”
We spent the rest of lunch discussing my current book, Chloe’s extended contract for work, and gossiping about our friend, Diego, who stumbled across his boyfriend’s Grindr account.
Two mimosas in, Chloe got a call from her current client requesting a meeting. After paying for brunch and refusing a ride from me, she hopped into an Uber, furiously crunching mints.
I sent a text to Ian, and he confirmed he was still working, so I decided to give him space and do some work of my own. I’d brought my laptop and when I left the restaurant, I headed across the street to a coffee house to work on my book.
Ian’s vast amounts of money hadn’t swayed me, but my conversation with Chloe had brought me closer to chucking it all and moving to England. Three weeks ago, I wouldn’t have even considered giving up laundry day for a guy. The speed and intensity of my relationship with Ian left me breathless and a little, no a lot, scared, but I trusted him. I could trust my heart with him. He made me feel...safe.
Mid-way through a scene where the heroine literally trips over a dead body, my phone buzzed. Without thinking or checking the display, I tapped to answer. “Hello.”
“Hey, sis. Finally. I’ve been texting you for weeks. You have me on ignore, or what?”
My heart stuttered, just like it always did when I heard from my brother. I took my phone off Speaker and held it to my ear. “What do you want, Matt?”
“That’s cold. You can start by setting me up with that total smoke show, Chloe. Nothing I like more than a black-haired bitch with fake tits.”
I almost choked on my tea. “Yeah, I’ll tell her you said that. She’ll be swept off her feet at the sheer romanticism. I told you before, she has a boyfriend.”
“I know she thinks I’m hot, so you can let her know I’m available.”
“Things didn’t work out too well for you the last time you dated a woman of that description. I think she got you arrested.”
“Nobody’s perfect.”
He hacked. Matt had a smoker’s cough already at thirty-two. “How’s your writing career going?”
I didn’t know if he tried for that sneer in his voice every time he mentioned my career, or if it just came naturally to him. “It’s going okay. I have two new books out, one ready to go, and I’m working on a fourth.”
I almost bit off the tip of my tongue. I should know by now, never to brag about success to Matt.
“Any ‘New York Times’ bestsellers in that bunch? JK Rowling level success? Hell, ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ success.”
“Sorry, no. Just enough to get by and keep writing.”
“That’s dull, but you don’t have to be coy with me, Ivy Chase.”
“Yeah, well you can probably look up the sales yourself. Not that exciting.”
Matt usually had two reasons for calling—he needed money, or he’d gotten himself into some mess...and he needed money. I didn’t have any money to give him, and I’d just about run out of fucks to give about his problems.
He'd gotten the same share of Dad’s life insurance money as I did, but he’d squandered his on gambling, booze, weed, and women. The fact that Dad had life insurance had shocked both of us, but Matt pointed out later our old man had probably gotten it as a prelude to some kind of scam or insurance fraud—he just died before he could implement it.
“I’m not talking about your pathetic career, sis. I’m talking about your new boyfriend.”
My breath hitched in my throat, and I gripped the edge of the table with one hand as my head spun. “I-I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Not only do you have a boyfriend, he’s rich as fuck.”
Wiping a damp hand on my thigh, I licked my dry lips. “Oh, you mean those stupid pictures at the concert of me and Ian Pope. He’s not my boyfriend. I just met him there. Haven’t seen him since.”
I should’ve known Matt would see those pictures. He didn’t follow celebrity gossip, but he did follow Van. We both got our musical tastes from our father—about the only thing we got from him except for the insurance money. Matt loved Van as much as I did and even had alerts on his phone for any mentions of him online.
I held my breath as Matt mulled over my response.
“You’re lying. I saw the pictures. You’re holding hands. He kissed you.”
I snorted, but my heart was hammering in my chest. “Yeah, ’cuz he’s Ian Pope. If Ian Pope wants to hold your hand and kiss you, you’re gonnna let him. Nothing else happened. He didn’t take my contact info. For all I know, he’s back in England. I doubt I’ll ever hear from him again.”
“He’s not back in England, and he’s worth eighty-five million bucks.”
Matt clicked his tongue, which meant he was using his limited brain cells for thinking. “Anything happen in that limo? Did he grab your ass? Force you to give him a blow job?”
“You’re disgusting. He had some party to go to, didn’t invite me, and had the driver take me home after the driver dropped him off. Nothing happened.”
“C’mon, Ivy. Doesn’t mean you can’t claim something happened. Threaten him. Tell him you’ll go to the press and let them know he was drunk and sexually assaulted you in the back of the limo. That shit happens all the time. He won’t want his precious comeback to derail, and he’ll pay you a couple mil to keep quiet, and you can send a few of those stacks my way.”
Matt had done his research, just like Dad had taught us to study every mark. The food I’d eaten earlier churned in my stomach, and I felt as if I was gonna hurl.
“I’m not doing that. I barely know the guy. He wouldn’t even remember my name, and besides, he’d probably call an attorney and a private investigator, and once they started looking into my background, we could both be in trouble. Aren’t you still on probation?”
“You’re not lying to me, are you, Ivy? ‘Cuz we both know you’re a damned good liar. That’s why Dad liked using you so much—that sweet face hiding a whole different kind of animal.”
“I’m not lying.”
I sucked some air into my lungs. My heart was racing so fast, I’d started hyperventilating. “I don’t know this guy. Any attempt to get money out of him would be laughably transparent.”
“You’d better not be lying to me, sis.”
Matt had dropped the jovial conman act, and his words held a threat of menace that caused a chill to ripple down my spine. “Because if I find out you’re seeing Ian Pope behind my back, I’ll fuckin’ destroy you.”
“Wh-what does that mean? How are you going to destroy me?”
My legs twisted into a pretzel beneath the table.
“You know that last con you ran with Dad against the Browne family? The one at the warehouse. The one that cost Dad his life.”
I nodded stiffly, even though Matt couldn’t see me.
“Remember Dad saw the cameras in the warehouse on his way out and sent me back to get the video.”
He gave a short laugh that stabbed me in the heart. “I still have that footage, and you’re on it, running a con with dear old Dad, as identifiable as you are in those paparazzi photos with Ian Pope.”