Chapter 30
JOSIE
I glance out of the window of the private jet and see a landmass that is unmistakably Italy sitting there majestically on the horizon like it’s in some painting.
Holy crap.
It’s there.
It’s real. It ain’t no painting. It ain’t no movie.
I can hardly comprehend what we’re doing. I’ve barely left Crystal River in my entire twenty-ish years, and now I am descending into freaking Italy on a private plane.
“Welcome to Italy, Josie.”
Victor’s deep, resonant voice sends a shiver down my spine as I gaze, spellbound, at the beautiful country as we slowly aim down toward the airport.
This is really happening...
I slowly turn to face the actor. He’s smiling.
He looks so handsome.
He told me I am perfect.
“I can’t believe it,” I whisper.
“You better believe it,” the impossibly gorgeous man replies. “We’re about to land in Italy to film a movie.”
I glance down at his lap. Resting on his legs is the screenplay for the upcoming movie he’s shooting here. The pages are battered and used – his handwriting is scrawled all over the margins like a schoolboy with homework. They’re little notes to himself. He certainly takes his craft seriously. He’s putting in the work. He’s not some airhead model-actor who likes to see himself on the screen but can’t display a single emotion other than pouting.
“You know your lines?” I ask him, my eyes flickering back down to the screenplay.
A confident smirk crosses his face.
“I’m very well prepared,” he replies. “I always am with every movie.”
“Ah, so you’re not just a pretty face?”
“Oh, I have that too, Josie.”
I snort and roll my eyes at his cockiness.
Italy, Italy, Italy. I’m coming for you.
Evelyn greets us off the plane. She looks stressed, and it’s not hard to see why - fifty yards behind her, on the other side of the tall security fence, about a thousand people are screaming. It takes me a moment to understand what they’re screaming about...
They’re screaming for Victor.
His name. Over and over.
Victor! Victor! Victor!
And in front of the security fence is a whole gaggle of photographers and news reporters.
Wow. This is becoming a bit too real.
I disembark the plane behind my fake famous boyfriend. It’s surprisingly warm. The Italian sun bears down on us as we sidle up next to Evelyn. The actor is wearing his sleek black sunglasses – limited edition, of course. Victor is all smiles and waves as he strolls effortlessly down the staircase and onto the Italian tarmac.
Whilst I’m just a grubby clumsy oaf trailing behind him. I just know that there’s gonna be a hundred photos of me looking like some kind of goblin while at the same time, Victor is going to look like a Greek god gracing us from Mount Olympus.
Evelyn is in an intense state of rush.
“You’re late,” she barks at Victor once our feet touch European soil. She arrived a few days ago in preparation for the star’s arrival.
Victor merely flashes her a cheeky grin.
“You do know I didn’t actually fly the plane, right? That’s more my brother Royce’s department. It’s not my fault it took longer than expected.”
Evelyn groans in annoyance.
Victor is completely at ease in this foreign environment, even with all the screaming and all the photographers. I try to copy him. It’s not very successful.
I’m actually here in Italy...
I look around. Everyone is still screaming. People are looking at me. I bet they’re wondering how the hell did this girl get the chance to hang out with the sexiest bachelor on the planet.
I really do need to wrap my head around all this - just a few days ago I was behind that counter in Crystal River serving coffees to angry almond milk drinkers and now I am... here.
Victor told me that I’m more than enough. Still doesn’t mean that I can’t be utterly, totally terrified.
“Come on,” Evelyn whispers sharply at us. “We’ve got no time to lose. Let’s get inside the airport.”
“What’s going on?” I ask Victor as we’re ushered into a long hallway, far away from the screaming fans and the cameras. We’re moving fast, and that’s making me stressed.
The actor slowly removes his sunglasses.
“We’re about to have a press conference in front of the European celebrity media,” he replies calmly.
“Oh,” I say. “Well, I’m happy to hang back and chill somewhere while you’re doing all that.”
Victor merely stares at me.
“Josie... we’re about to have a press conference.”
Ah.
Okay.
We are. That means me.
Fuck.
“Got it. Together. Okay.”
I very much don’t have it. I’m very much freaking out even more than I was descending the plane.
“I need you, Josie,” Victor whispers. “You’re my new girlfriend. You should front the world with me.”
“I’m here, Victor.”
“Just be yourself.”
“I’m trying.”
We enter into some cavernous room, straight onto a stage that looks out over a full auditorium of chairs. And soon those chairs are being filled by photographers and reporters.
Victor gestures for me to sit next to him, right in the middle of the stage. In front of us is a long table, but that ain’t providing much defense from the vultures out there ready to pounce. Under the table, Victor’s hand finds mine. And once our skin touches, I feel at peace.
And I know that he wants to guide me through all this.
Evelyn stands to the side. She’s holding a microphone. Once everyone is seated, she begins to talk, her voice reverberating around the massive room.
“Sorry to keep you all waiting. Let’s get this started then, shall we? Let me introduce to you... Josie Gunn.”
And then I am announced to the world. And a million photos are taken. And the focus is on me. And I feel so very alone.
And I try to smile through the attention. I try to speak. I don’t even know what I’m saying. I just want to seem to function as a normal human being.
“What’s it like dating him?”
“Him? Oh, he’s amazing.”
“How did you two meet?”
“He just... came into my coffee shop one day and ordered an almond croissant and then he kissed me.”
“Did you know about Victor before he kissed you?”
“Who doesn’t know Victor Penmayne?”
“Did you fancy him before you met him?”
“Who doesn’t fancy Victor Penmayne?”
“What did you say to him when he kissed you?”
“Kiss me again.”
My throat is dry. I feel fake even saying all this.
I turn to Victor. He seems so collected. Questions come to him as well, but he brushes them all with all the experience of someone totally at ease.
Yeah, I’m the complete opposite.
A million more questions are thrown my way, but I find it so hard to listen, let alone listen to what is coming out of my mouth.
I look at Victor again. I look out in the crowd. I see the journalists’ faces, all intent and focused on me.
The whole world narrows.
I’m spinning.
Yeah, I might be in way over my head here...