Chapter Nine
CHAPTER NINE
ANGEL
I freeze, my gaze dropping to my feet. “You remember me.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “You mean Jade Saxton? Well, let’s just say it’s hard to forget someone who can fit that many ‘fuck yous’ into one voice mail. Now, Angel Smith on the other hand? No. At least, not at first. However, your friend was pretty quick in jogging my memory.”
Fucking Violet.
“How…?”
He scratches the stubble on his chin and shrugs. “She ninjaed around the side of the building and overheard us talking.”
I’m going to kill her when she comes home. I bitched for two hours about Dominic McCallum and his fucking alley proposition, and she didn’t say shit.
“She had no right to do that.”
“She cares about you.”
“Yeah, she cares so much she handed me on a silver platter to the man responsible for this.” Flinging my arms out, I motion around the apartment. To the ugly, vomit colored couch. To the brown, water-stained walls. To the cracked baseboards and hideous peeling linoleum floors. “Take a good look, McCallum. I hope it was worth it.”
Dominic opens his mouth, and for a split second I think he’s going to apologize. But then he shuts it. “I didn’t know you were her. If I had—”
“You would’ve what? Not run the story? Not used me as a sacrificial lamb to stick it to the man?” I’m goading him, but I don’t care.
“ The man ?” He laughs, repeating the words slowly. “Do you even know what you signed on for?”
“Yeah, the role of a lifetime.”
“Try a low-budget film where the only action scenes being filmed were in Paulo Bellini’s trailer.”
His words catch me off guard, and all the pain and shame come rushing back in a cloud of raw hurt. Cursing, I pull my hand back and swing, only for it to come to a dead stop. Dominic’s fingers are wrapped around my wrist, and when I look up, I’m ensnared with a calculated stare.
“I don’t mince words, Miss Smith.” His callous tone mirrors the cold expression on his face. “The truth may hurt, but distorted reality does a lot more damage.” He nods at the camera still clenched in my other hand. “Believe what you want, but I did you a favor.”
“A favor?” Jerking my arm out of his grasp, I turn away, my teeth grinding together as I close my eyes and count slowly in my head.
“Look, I didn’t—”
“I got that role because I’m a damn good actress, McCallum,” I say, cutting him off. “But because of you, every producer assumed I was much better at spreading my legs.” Opening my eyes, I stare at the wall in a swell of fury. “The name Jade Saxton became a joke. No one would return my phone calls or give me an audition. At least one that wasn’t on my knees.”
There. I said it. I unleashed the words I’ve held in for so long. So why the hell don’t I feel better? Why is the hollow pit inside my stomach still there?
Because he never paid for his sins , a voice whispers. Because you lost everything while he built an empire. Because you sank to the bottom while he floated away.
Last First Kiss was supposed to be my big break. It was payment for a lifetime of pain. I knew the producer was a sexist pig. Everyone knew it. Maybe some of those girls blew their way into their roles, but not me. I earned mine. But none of that mattered when Beyond the News decided it was open season on Paulo Bellini.
If you had a vagina, you were guilty. No trial. No defense. Dominic McCallum banged his almighty gavel, and that was it. We were all hung in the court of public opinion.
“So why Chula Vista?”
I cut my eyes at his flippant change of subject. Once again, he just rips off the scab and leaves me to bleed. “Car broke down. Money ran out. The G-Spot was hiring.” I shrug. “Take your pick. Trust me, if everything had worked out, I’d be in Phoenix by now.”
“What’s in Phoenix?”
It’s a question I’m not prepared to answer, so I don’t. Instead, I roll my neck, wincing at the tight muscles. “It’s been a long day, Mr. McCallum. As much as I’ve enjoyed being harassed at work, dragged into alleys, pushed against walls, and attacked in my own home, if it’s all right with you, I’d like to take my shower and go to sleep now.”
“No. ”
I blink. “I’m sorry, did you say no?”
“Pretty and observant. You’re quite the package, Angel Smith.” He tosses a smug wink at me, and all I can think about is stealing that knife in his pocket and jabbing it in his eye.
Try winking then, asshole.
“Now that we’ve resolved past grudges—”
“Resolved?” I laugh. “You can’t be serious.”
But he is, which is made obvious by the fact he continues to speak. “I believe we still have my offer to discuss.”
“Get out.”
“Just give me five minutes, and if what I have to say doesn’t convince you to give me five more,I’ll leave.”
“Does this have anything to do with the shit you tried to pull with Reggie’s new girl?” He doesn’t answer, and for the second time today, I hesitate. Probably a huge mistake, but I don’t see how this could get any worse. “Five minutes, and you’ll leave?”
“You have my word.”
“Great,” I mumble. “I’ll add it to the other worthless shit I own.” I motion toward our pathetic excuse for a couch. “Have a seat.”
“Thank you.” He’s all confident and powerful, and fucking infuriating. The way he smiles around the words and the way those electric eyes never seem to blink, causes me to ache in the worst kind of way. The pain isn’t brutal, but more like subtle stabs.
Sort of like taking a running leap into a giant pit of thumbtacks.
He’s the asshole who stole your dream, I remind myself. I can’t let a pretty face and a nice body distract me from reality. A sinfully defined toned body. I swallow hard, running a hand along my throat where my pulse is dancing the tango .
Five minutes.
I agreed to this to get him out, not to proposition my stalker, so I clear my throat and sit in a nearby chair. Tossing the camera beside me, I clench my hands together in my lap. “Let’s hear it, Mr. McCallum.”
“It’s Dominic.” His broadened smile sends my resolve flying out the window and a rush of heat between my legs.
No! I’m not attracted to him. I let out a groan and clench my teeth. Focus, Angel.
He leans forward and balances his elbows on his knees, “You seem nervous, Miss Smith.”
He’s close. So close I ditch my own rules and breathe him in. God, he smells good. A deep mix of rich coffee and earthy pine. Like Christmas morning. Well, what I imagine Christmas morning would smell like. Not that I’ve ever had one.
The thought jerks me out of my lust-filled haze and slams me back into reality.
“Nervous?” I repeat the word, hating the slight wobble in my voice. “Not at all. I just... You have four minutes left.”
His rough laugh melts over my skin. “What would you say if I told you I could not only fast-track your way back into Hollywood, but I could make you the biggest star they’ve ever seen?”
“I told you before, I’m not a whore.”
“And I told you before, I don’t mean in exchange for sex.” I quirk an eyebrow which he answers with a wicked grin. “I mean, I wouldn’t turn it down, but that’s not what this is. I’m offering a professional opportunity for mutual gain. So, what do you say?”
“I say there must be something you want pretty bad to make such big promises.” I force a polite smile. “You have two minutes to tell me what it is before I call the cops.”
He smiles back, but it’s nowhere near as polite. “How about I show you instead?” Keeping his eyes on me, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a worn picture. Carefully unfolding it, he flips it around between his fingers and holds it up for my inspection.
It’s a little girl, and the longer I stare, the more my eyes sting. Not because of the obvious expensive dress she’s wearing, but because of the vacant, sad look in her eyes. She’s looking at the camera as if begging someone to hear her.
“Cute kid.”
“Look familiar? Long, dark hair and green eyes.”
“That’s not me.”
“No, it’s Alexandra Romanov. This picture was taken four days before the murders.” I’m still staring at the photo when he pulls out another folded up picture and holds it up. “But this is an FBI aged-progressed photo of what Alexandra Romanov would look like today.”
This one is much different. It’s a woman. Older, but just as sad. I stare at her long dark hair and haunted green eyes. I swallow hard at the stubborn set of her jaw and pale skin.
He’s right. The resemblance is uncanny.
“Look, I’m not interested in whatever—”
“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you it’s the fifteenth anniversary of her disappearance,” he says, drawing my attention back to the hard lines on his face. “It’s all over the news that the estate has offered a million-dollar reward for information leading to her return.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
His hold tightens on both pictures as he pushes them even closer. “To quote a certain mouthy waitress, it’s been a long day. Do I really need to point out the obvious? You could be sisters, or at the very least cousins.”
That’s when it hits. When his words from earlier make sense, and all his cryptic offers converge into a moment of stark clarity. Horrified, my jaw drops. “Have you lost your fucking mind? You want me to pretend to be Alexandra Romanov? As in the Hollywood royalty Romanovs?”
He shrugs, as if the idea isn’t absurd. As if we’re simply trick-or-treating down Rodeo Drive. “The estate has hundreds of idiots trying to pass themselves off as Alexandra Romanov every day. They never get past the phone screen.”
I let out a patronizing laugh. “And you think I will?”
“You have something they don’t have.”
“Common sense?”
“Me .” He smirks. “Like it or not, when I talk people listen. If I write that I’ve found the missing heiress, you’ll get more than a phone screen. You’ll get the keys to the kingdom.”
“Wait, this is what you were talking to Naomi about? So, what…she failed your little test, so you thought you’d give me a spin?”
“I wouldn’t quite put it that way.”
“Even if I were to consider this, which I’m not, your plan has a fatal flaw.” He raises an eyebrow, and I let a pause hang in the air before leaning forward. “The Romanovs are the first family of Hollywood. Do you honestly think the estate would hand over a million dollars over a cartoon printout? They’ll demand a DNA test, and once that comes back, I won’t have to worry about getting kicked out of my apartment. I’ll be behind bars.”
“The DNA test won’t be a problem.”
I snort. “Yeah, right. The next thing you’ll tell me is you know a guy.” A slow smirk creeps across Dominic’s face, and my stomach drops. “Oh my God. You know a guy.”
“That’s a conversation for another day.” He glances at his watch. “I believe my five minutes are up, Miss Smith.” Dragging that smoldering stare up to my face, he cocks a dark, slanted eyebrow. “So, do I get five more, or do I leave?”
“Why do you enjoy digging into people’s pasts, Mr. McCallum?”
“It’s Dominic, and don’t avoid the question.” He looks at me again. It’s just a simple glance, but it carries the weight of an avalanche behind it. If I’m not careful, it’ll bury me.
I clear my throat while fighting to regain my senses. “I’m not interested.”
“Do you have a deep-seated aversion to success, Angel?”
Drawing my eyes up, I collide with his icy stare. “You tell me, Mr. McCallum.”
After meticulously folding both photos, he tucks them back in his pocket and leans closer. “I told you to call me Dominic.”
“And I told you I wasn’t interested in your offer. I guess neither of us listens too well.”
A low laugh rumbles in his throat, and he shifts backward, draping his arm over the back of the couch. “I’ve already warned you about that attitude, cupcake. While I can appreciate a ballsy woman, the public likes their starlets demure.”
“I’m not your cupcake,” I huff.
Suddenly standing, he clears the distance between us in only a few steps. I have every intention of looking him right in the eye and telling him to get out, but the thing is, well, it’s not his eyes I’m staring at. He’s just the right height and my chair is low enough to land my face two inches from his groin.
And judging from the massive bulge in his pants, that’s the only thing that’s two inches .
I want to look away, but I can’t. It’s like I’ve been dickmatized, and the more I stare, the warmer my face gets.
“Angel?” I glance up to find an amused smirk on his face. “My eyes are up here.”
Leaping to my feet, I tip my head back, and glare at him.
At his eyes.
Yep, definitely his eyes.
Dominic glances down at the non-existent space between us. “Don’t give me an answer right now. It’s late, and we both need some sleep. Believe it or not, there’s a decent place to stay nearby that doesn’t have bars on the windows.”
Asshole.
“Take the night to think it over. My producer has to get back to LA, so I’ll have her drop me off at a rental car place in the morning, and then I’ll come by. Say around ten o’clock? We’ll go for coffee. My treat.”
I pretend to swoon. “Such a big spender. Unfortunately, I’ll have to decline. I have to be at the bar at ten.”
“Then make it breakfast, and I’ll be here at eight.” Hooking a finger under my chin, he tips my face up. “I suggest you unlock the door for me, Miss Smith. Unless, you prefer I do it myself.”
“Do it, and I don’t think you’ll like what happens next.”
“Oh, cupcake, you have no idea what I like.” He lowers his head, his lips barely brushing against the shell of my ear. But it’s enough that I have to press my lips together to trap the moan threatening to slip out. “But I know exactly what you like.”
I don’t know why I ask. He’s obviously baiting me, but my mouth refuses to cooperate and gobbles it up before my brain can reel it back in. “Is that right? And what do I like?”
I only vaguely register him moving toward the door, but the wolfish grin he gives me as he cocks his chin over his shoulder permanently brands itself into my memory.
“I guess you’ll just have to open the door to find out.”