Epilogue
Epilogue
A nd the Oscar goes to…
Ty squeezed Gwen’s hand as they emerged from the back of the limo, blinded by the sudden flashing of a thousand cameras.
“Ready?” he asked.
She smiled, her beautiful face glowing with her pregnancy. She looked gorgeous in her custom-made Alexander Wang maternity gown. The sapphire shade of the silk highlighted her blonde tresses and accentuated her bright blue eyes.
They’d walked this red carpet several times in the past couple of years, but tonight’s trip was special because for the first time, they were both in the limelight.
“Mr. Ransome, Ms. Preston,” Ryan Seacrest called out. They walked toward the interviewer as the cameras continued to flash. “It must be very gratifying to have the movie you co-scripted nominated for movie of the year.”
“It is,” Ty said. “Very gratifying, very exciting.”
“The movie is based on a collection of your short stories, isn’t that correct, Ms. Preston?”
“Yes it is. The stories in Evening Songs have a very special place in my heart.”
“Was it hard adapting your stories for the silver screen? I mean, Evening Songs was your first attempt at writing a screenplay, wasn’t it?” Ryan asked.
“It wasn’t particularly difficult,” she replied, looking at Ty. “I had an excellent writing partner.”
Ty raised his eyebrows. “Of course, we did have to do some rather extensive character studies.”
“Yes, we did,” she agreed. “Very extensive.”
“Do you think you’ll work on screenplays together in the future?” Ryan asked.
Ty shrugged. “If the right story came along, perhaps. We?—”
“Oh Mr. Ransome, Mr. Ransome,” a shrill, high-pitched voice interrupted the interview. He looked over to see Bambi Starr waving to him from the front row of the crowd of fans. “Remember me?”
He heard Gwen chuckle as he fought back a groan.
“Oh look, Hollywood, an old friend. Wanna go over and say hello?”
He tightened his grip around her waist. “Careful, Mrs. Ransome.” He stressed the name she hadn’t taken after their wedding, electing instead to keep Gwen Preston. He’d agreed keeping her maiden name was a smart move professionally. Besides, her nickname of Mrs. Ransome had worked its way into their bedroom adventures as had her name for him—Master.
Her eyes darkened with arousal at the sound of her married name, and he wondered how they’d manage to sit through the whole damn awards ceremony.
“Seeing Bambi actually reminds me of something I’ve always wanted,” he whispered.
“What’s that?”
“You on your knees in that limo, sucking my cock.”
She grinned. “I think that could be arranged.”
He stopped mid-step and glanced over her shoulder, as if looking for their car. She laughed.
“Later, Hollywood. Much, much later.”