Chapter 43
JOSIE
We’re walking back to the hotel down the old cobble streets of the quiet city when Victor leans down and whispers something to me that instantly sends chills down my spine.
“Someone’s following us,” he says.
Oh, shit.
“What?”
“Don’t turn around, Josie.”
He grabs my hand securely.
My heart is racing.
Who’s following us? How does he know? What do they want?
I think about that fan I met on the movie set. She was nice, but there are some really unhinged people out there - people who are probably obsessed with Victor Penmayne. People who might want to hurt his girlfriend. People who might follow him home, even in a quiet city in Italy.
And Victor has spotted them.
We were stupid walking out in public like that.
But what happens next?
I trust Victor. He seems so calm and collected.
But me? I’m freaking out.
Victor pulls me around a corner, and we rush up to the wall so that we’re sticking to it. He peeks around, back to where we came from. I can’t see a thing. My breathing is so shallow.
I’m panicking.
“Who is it?” I ask him in a quiet whisper.
Victor slowly turns his head back to me.
“Paparazzi.”
“Photographers?”
“They’ve hit the jackpot,” he explains. “They’ve been following us since the beach. They’ll love to get a photo of us walking together hand-in-hand. That’ll sell through the media outlets like fire burning through a forest.”
“Do they always follow you?” I ask him, trying my best to peek around the wall. I can’t see anyone, but I judge Victor’s judgment.
“Yes, and it’s always annoying. We need to sneak away before they spot us again.”
I nod.
Makes sense.
“How about we do something different this time?” I ask him. “How about we use this to our advantage?”
“What do you mean, Josie?”
“How about we put on a little show for them? How about we do something that’ll really sell.”
And Victor gets it. He smiles.
“You’re a smart cookie, Josie.”
Still holding my hand, Victor leads us out and back onto the street.
And that’s when I see the two photographers, both about a hundred yards away. They’re not exactly hiding from us – big cameras slung around their necks and straining to look for us.
They spot us pretty damn quick.
And Victor turns to me. He places a hand on my cheek and draws me in for a long, lingering kiss under the lamplight.
The paparazzi get their photos, and I get to kiss Victor Penmayne.
And it’s like I’m floating. My feet aren’t touching anything. I’m soaring.
I don’t have to say, but the man is a really good kisser.
“That’ll make the front pages,” I tell the actor when he finally lets go.
“Yes,” he replies. “I think it will. Good idea, Miss Gunn.”
We’re back in the safety of the fancy hotel suite, far away from any prying photographers, but we both still can’t stop thinking about what just happened out there.
I mean, Victor is not talking about the kiss. Neither am I.
Don’t bring it up. Don’t mention it. It wasn’t real.
Even though I can’t get it out of my head.
I kissed Victor Penmayne.
“We should get engaged,” Victor tells me.
I stop what I’m doing and stare at him.
“You mean a fake engagement, right?”
“Yeah. But we’d get the rings and have a party and everything. It’ll work wonders in the press.”
“No, Victor,” I say.
“You’re saying no?”
This is a red line.
“I’ve been married before, and I’m not going to go down that path, fake or not. It’s a no from me.”
Victor pauses. He nods.
“Okay.”
“This is real enough, isn’t it?” I ask him. “That kiss was real enough?”
“Yes,” he replies. “That was real enough.”