Chapter Fourteen
THREE NIGHTS LATER, Annie slumped against the door of her suite. Finally, she was alone.
In the floor-length mirror opposite, Ivy Flame stared back.
A tight, strapless, red minidress with a long train attached at the waist barely allowed her to breathe.
Super high heels accentuated fake-tanned legs, and her toenails and fingernails were coated in the same fire-engine red as her lips.
Her hair styled into an I’ve just got out of bed mane flowing down her back.
She should be relieved her disguise was firmly in place, but instead her head throbbed.
Fake tan.
Fake eyelashes.
Fake everything.
Especially you, Ivy.
Her stomach heaved, and she feared she’d lose its minimal contents; her appetite, along with her peace of mind, had become a thing of the past.
She’d heard the whispers and speculation between her agent, publicist, stylist, make-up artist and hairdresser as they’d worked for hours to get her ready. They’d all presumed she was tense and rigid because Ben was attending the premiere tonight.
Her sob echoed around the suite. She didn’t care about Ben, all she could think about was Ethan.
He’d been her only thought, like she was stuck on a loop, haunted by the last sight of him on the doorstep at WillowGlen.
Like history repeating itself, except she was the reason he’d been there this time, not his mother.
He’d never forgive her.
She scrunched her eyes closed and hoped for the fortitude to erase the image from her mind for good, to be able to get through tonight.
Forever without him.
She slumped further.
Forever.
Her head pounded in agony and her eyes flung open, frantically searching for a distraction. She caught sight of the script her agent had thrust into her hands, along with the contract she’d wanted her to sign on the spot.
Instead, Annie had ordered everyone out. She needed quiet. She wanted peace, so she could wonder where Ethan was, what he was doing, whether he was thinking of her, missing her. Not to read through a script she already knew would be more of the same.
One-dimensional.
Soul-destroying.
She recalled Ethan telling her he was transforming one of his hotels into a respite centre for elderly carers.
At the time she’d been so proud and moved that he could and would change his business model.
Now she could pinpoint that moment as when she’d finally begun to acknowledge the feelings she’d pushed deep down for years, the feelings that made her want to transform her career, make it an avenue for meaningful, powerful and uplifting stories.
Wanting him to be equally proud of her, but more than that, she wanted to be proud of herself.
Not allowing any time to second-guess herself, she walked over, picked up the contract and ripped it in half.
No matter what, she wasn’t doing any roles like that, no more degrading stereotypes, ever again. She didn’t know what her future would look like yet, but it wouldn’t include that.
Except there’d still be the matter of what she’d done to her parents.
And no Ethan in her life.
She crashed back to reality, and the tears she’d held at bay for hours ran down her cheeks.
No Ethan. Ever.
The look on his face on the doorstep, the grey tinge replacing his olive skin, the wildness in his eyes.
What did he think of her now? That she was like his parents, completely heartless towards him? Like his mother, constantly walking out on him without a backward glance? Not caring about how he was, what he was doing? Never wanting to make him the priority in her life?
Nothing was further from the truth.
She swung around and stared into the mirror again, past the clothes and make-up to the haunted look in her eyes that no amount of eye shadow, eyeliner or fake lashes could hide, to the abject misery stamped on her face at the pain she’d inflicted on Ethan.
It hit her then, that she had to tell him the truth about her past. About what she’d done and why, because the thought of him thinking she didn’t want him was worse than revealing her secret to him, the reason she’d pushed him away, thinking she’d didn’t ever deserve the happiness he represented.
She lowered her head because she knew there was more. He needed to know that she loved him with everything that was in her. He deserved the truth, the full truth from her.
Fear gripped her throat.
Would he still want her when he knew what she’d done?
Would he forgive her after she’d been so scathing and mean when she’d told him she was leaving?
Would he give them a chance, even when he didn’t do permanent?
Would he believe that she loved him…and could he ever love her back?
She didn’t know any of the answers, but she had to try, even if he never wanted to have anything to do with her again.
She was going to bare her true self to him, tell him everything, because he didn’t deserve anything less.
Kicking off her heels, she launched across the room. She couldn’t wait one moment longer to tell him.
* * *
Ethan slammed his laptop closed, no longer pretending he was doing anything constructive.
He’d been staring at, but not seeing, the same page for the last thirty minutes while his mind remained on Annie.
The last time he’d spoken to her, seen her.
When she’d made for London without a backwards glance, abandoning him on the doorstep.
When she’d made it abundantly clear she didn’t want anything more to do with him other than WillowGlen business.
Just after he’d realised he loved her.
Loved her.
His agonised growl reverberated around the empty room. He hadn’t had a second of peace since; he’d been too busy being consumed by utter terror that she’d find out how he felt and wield the power it gave her.
Yet, he still missed her, yearned for her.
He erupted out of his chair and paced the office in his Cornwall hotel.
He’d beat this, he had to.
He just had to find out how.
He’d sworn after his upbringing he’d never let anyone hurt him like his parents had, first with their complete and utter indifference and then their ultimate betrayal, when they’d left him for good.
It was what he’d built his life’s foundation on, but since Annie had walked out on him, he felt like a rudderless ship, unable to function.
Last night he’d blown off his monthly call with Cam and Luc, and he’d avoided their messages today because it’d only take them five seconds to realise something was wrong.
That he was completely losing it, and why.
And he couldn’t say the words out loud, even to them.
He loved Annie, and he was terrified by that knowledge.
He couldn’t allow himself to be that vulnerable, risk her not returning his love, abandoning him, playing him.
And just like that, it hit him.
Annie wasn’t like the people who’d hurt him in his past. She wasn’t like his parents, or those heinous boys at school.
She was as different from them as the coldest bleakest winter was from summer sunshine.
The real Annie was warm and loving and kind, and even her Ivy persona couldn’t completely hide that.
He’d been so intent on protecting himself that he’d thrown up barrier after barrier, because he’d thought he couldn’t trust her. Yet the ugly truth was, she was holding something back from him, because she couldn’t trust him.
Sickened, he bent over.
He wanted to be the person she could trust, to lean on.
Like the way she’d made him feel when he’d opened up to her about his parents, her abject indignation at their treatment of him a balm that had soothed him like nothing else ever had. She’d created a safe space for him to reveal the core of who he really was.
He wanted to do that for her. To know she could also confide in him, share anything and everything with him, and he’d have her back, always.
And despite every rational objection to convince himself otherwise, his gut insisted she was holding something back from him, something which terrified her, which had made her run away from him, and he hadn’t given her the space to share it.
When he’d walked into her bedroom, he’d known the way she looked at her scarf, then dropped it like it had scalded her, meant something significant. He was just unsure what.
Now it was imperative she understood she could tell him anything and it wouldn’t change the way he felt about her. He’d seen past the facade of Ivy to the real Annie beneath, and he loved her.
Everything shifted inside him and realigned itself. He had to be brave enough to tell her how he felt. That he loved her. Wanted a relationship with her, a real one.
Ask her to trust him, like he would trust her.
Could it be that easy?
He barked out a laugh.
Easy? Far from it.
Gut wrenching. Definitely.
Heart attack inducing. Possibly.
But she was worth taking the ultimate risk. And if she didn’t want him, he’d somehow learn to live with it.
He checked his watch, and with no time to waste, he sprinted to the garage.
* * *
Four and a half hours later his car screeched to a halt outside the five-star London hotel where Annie was staying.
Throwing his car keys and a wad of notes at the valet, he sprinted up the steps into the lobby, hoping she hadn’t already left.
He scanned the room while making for the concierge, until a surge of electricity suddenly shot through him and he pivoted to see Annie exiting a lift.
His heart stalled before recommencing its frantic beat, taking in her yellow dress that fell to midcalf with long bell sleeves flapping at her wrists.
‘Annie!’ he called and raced towards her.
She whipped around, her mouth falling open.
He stopped in front of her, close enough to smell a hint of springtime, see strain around her mouth, the smudge of mascara under her eyes.
‘You’re here?’ she said, fidgeting with her clutch.
‘You don’t have time for this, Ivy,’ the woman beside her, whom he hadn’t even noticed, snapped.
‘She’s not Ivy,’ he bit out.
‘Kirstin! As I’ve already explained to you more than once, you no longer work for me. Excuse me,’ Annie said firmly and turned back to Ethan.