Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
O ne last taste.
It’s the only thing I’m good for, apparently. My only piece of worth left in Marcus’s eyes.
My pussy throbs from his wild fucking, his pace so brutal I know he’s left scars on my heart even as my body trembles during recovery the following day.
Since Marcus is so fucking determined to move on, then I have to do that, too.
I said nothing to him after he took off. What’s new? He’s heard my arguments repeatedly.
I have to make a stand for real this time because if I let him keep pulling me back, I’ll drown, and there will be no resurfacing. I have to start living my life for me and kill this frantic hope that he’ll choose me before I do any more damage to myself.
He’s never going to choose me.
He wants me. I know that much. My body. There’s got to be more than physical chemistry to make things work. Time for me to take him at his word. That last time was goodbye, the door slammed in my face.
“Miss Stone? Are you okay?”
I glance up and blink to clear my vision, focusing on Damon Clinestammer, the producer for the picture Jacob recommended. Days after the harried fucking in the office, and here I sit, ready to make my next move on my terms.
I offer Damon the blinding smile I’m known for, hoping one of these days it will start to feel natural again, and fluff my hair. “Yes, I’m totally fine. Thanks.” The smile remains primed when Jacob offers me the pen to sign on the dotted line.
“You ready?” he asks.
“Oh, sure. Born for it.”
I’m not sure why he felt it necessary to be present at the meeting today, but I’m grateful it’s him and not Marcus.
Getting things set up is as far as he’s willing to go for me. Fine . Exactly as I said. It’s totally fine. I grip the pen and sign my name across the contract line, finishing it with a flourish and the date.
Jacob whistles, clapping like I’ve actually done something worthwhile.
I got the part. It’s mine because I want it, and it has nothing to do with Marcus and everything to do with me, with a little bit of help from Jacob. I never would have come across the script if he hadn’t made the suggestion.
“Get ready for excitement, Miss Stone.” Damon steeples his fingers together, the long end of his goatee nearly reaching the peak. “This is going to be a fun project. It might not be the kind of thing you’re used to doing, but I guarantee you’ll leave the set excited for the finished product.”
No doubt.
This frothy Christmas movie is nothing like what I just went through, so yeah. I actually am excited to do it.
Damon holds out his hand for me to shake, and I do, rising in the same fluid motion. “I appreciate you taking the chance on me,” I say.
“The pleasure is ours, trust me. I already see the chemistry between you two.” He glances between me and Jacob and winks. “This is going to be a breeze for us to shoot.”
“You’re sure about the hours?” I’m not positive I’ll ever be able to push through the way we did in the last picture. Twenty-plus hours of shooting a day?
I worked myself to the bone, and it doesn’t matter how many times Belinda spoke to me with a laugh and a cheeky smile, telling me that I was young and I’d bounce back.
It isn’t fair.
Especially after Marcus made such a big fucking deal about negotiating my contract to avoid that kind of schedule.
Thinking about him again tears a hole right through my heart, and I swallow down the pain, hoping none of it shows on my face.
“We’re thinking of a few months in New York City, but it shouldn’t take any longer than four. I’m not a merciless overlord.”
The way Damon suppresses a sneer, I know exactly what he’s referencing.
Not what, who .
I want to drop my head in my lap and disappear. No doubt, word about the breakneck pace and Marcus and his awful behavior got around to the rest of the biz.
Gossip travels faster than the speed of light in this town.
I might not be the center of the spiral this time, but I’m caught in the swirl, as usual.
I slowly straighten, sighing through my teeth. It’s time for me to learn how to navigate this properly. Otherwise every project I choose to take on in the future will turn into the same snarled mess.
“You got the role, Miss Stone. Congratulations again.”
I shake Damon’s hand a second time before Jacob escorts me out, his hand light on the small of my back. The barest touch of pressure, yet I’m intimately aware of his presence. Because it’s light and sweet and wrong.
I’m so fucked up. My body throbs, but not for him.
Jacob glances sideways at me, his profile strong and dazzling. “Are you excited?”
He doesn’t have to go after women with his looks. They simply fall at his feet and beg him for a chance. Even going out to dinner last night, the server nearly tripped over her tongue when she realized who sat at the table in her section. It became only too clear she had eyes for Jacob and none for me.
“I am,” I reply automatically. “I mean it. This is going to be a lot of fun,”
“You’re just excited about going to New York City. I hear you’re a huge fan of Broadway shows.”
I nod and say, “My parents took me to see several before their death. I’d say they were more the fans, not me. But yes, I hope I can see at least one while we’re there.”
Jacob steps ahead to hold open the door for me. I reach into my purse and draw out a pair of Gucci shades, then slide them up my nose.
“I’m going to make it my business to ensure you do,” he says.
Sliding my sunglasses down my down, I flutter my lashes at him. “My hero.”
“Always. It’s my pleasure.” His tone is so serious I snort. “Now, how do you feel about going for coffee?”
“I’d say it’s a good idea. I could use a caffeine bump. It’s like I can’t get enough sleep these days.”
I loop my hand through his elbow. The reality of the situation hits me like someone pulling a bag off my face. The sunlight, the busy street, life going by… We’re two people in a fantasy career, but I’ve never felt more normal. For a brief second, there are no worries. There are no stressors.
I’ve got one film in the books and another preparing to start in a month.
Being with Jacob is light and breezy and no pressure.
Boring .
The insidious voice in my head whispers the word, and it takes root with hooked barbs. I scowl, Jacob too busy chatting about the rest of his afternoon plans to realize.
We round the corner and meet a wall of photographers. Cameras flash in unison, louder than a chorus of cicadas in the summer, and amid the clicks, their voices rise. Each one fires off a question and gets louder the longer we stand there, deer-in-the-headlights style, all of them vying to be heard.
“Mr. Kessler! Miss Stone!”
I lean in to Jacob, rising on the tips of my toes, and say against his ear, “Did you tell them where we were going?”
He shakes his head. “Someone must have done a social media post about the contracts being signed. More than likely, they were heading toward the executive office for a chance to catch us.” He sounds pleased.
“This isn’t your doing, is it?”
The crowd gets closer, and Jacob holds up his free hand, making sure I’m tight against his side before he speaks. “Everyone, everyone, calm down,” he calls out with a laugh.
“Mr. Kessler, can you tell us about your new relationship?” The nearest woman holds out a handheld mic, her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and her dark eyes fixated solely on Jacob.
The word strikes me, and my mouth drops open before I somehow find my composure. “Wait a minute, our what?”
“Your relationship,” the woman repeats. “I’m with the Los Angeles Times , and the information was confirmed by your manager months ago. We’ve been hoping for an interview, but he’s refused.”
Confirmed by…my manager?
I stiffen, every inch of me going taut and hot and undeniably queasy. What did Marcus say to them? Why would he—
“What relationship?” I blurt out.
“Aw, come on.” This time there is no mistaking my shock, and Jacob nudges me lightly. “It’s cute. I’ve just been going along with it.”
I sputter and bite down on my lip to keep from saying something the press will no doubt quote me on for the rest of my life. I don’t want them making things up, either. But they aren’t making things up. Not if they spoke to Marcus.
That no good, lying piece of fucking scum.
Jacob apparently takes my silence as the green light and plows ahead, going with the flow. “The relationship between myself and Miss Stone is entirely new. We are enjoying each other’s company and look forward to the chance to work together on our upcoming film.”
“Details?” The woman presses. “What can we expect from the film?”
“Let’s just say there will be several sweet scenes where I’m sure I won’t have to act.”
He casts a serene smile down at me, and the cacophony of voices shifts into a melodic aww in unison. I can only do the same, angling to cast mine out over the crowd. Empty inside.
The space inside me that had felt prepared to heal has been scraped raw yet again, the scars reopened. The world turns upside down. Especially since Marcus bent me over a desk and fucked me two nights ago.
“You know what? I’m actually going to head home,” I murmur to Jacob the moment the press gives us a little bit of breathing space.
No thanks to him. I get the feeling he’d have been happy to stand there letting them fire their questions off for the remainder of the afternoon. My guards stepped in to clear the way for us, but by the time they did, my fingers shook uncontrollably, a sure sign of distress.
“Are you sure? I don’t need to go to the Vogue shoot for another two hours,” Jacob replies.
“I’m entirely sure. Thank you for coming with me today.” I kiss his cheek, ignoring the flash of desire in his eyes, and turn away as quickly as possible.
Jacob doesn’t call me back, and I ignore the press, most of them happier to have him at the center of their attention anyway.
Fuck this day.
Fuck my life.
Fuck me right in the ass because Marcus might have made his claim that he wants out of my life, but this is him showing me. It’s a giant middle finger in the form of an endorsement. Who the fuck did he think he was, making up those kinds of things without talking to me about it first?
Yeah, Jacob and I are friendly. We’ve been spending more time together lately because it’s so easy to be with him. Don’t I deserve some easy friendship?
Apparently those kinds of things come with strings attached, and the strings are called new relationship .
“Where are we going, Miss Stone?” the driver asks when I return to the car.
I slide into the back seat, letting out a breath when he pauses near the door. “I want to go home.”
The odds are good that Marcus will be at his office or his apartment this time of day. I can’t even look at him.
No one gave a flying fuck what I thought. Not Marcus, not Jacob. Half of me wonders if the driver will even go to my house or if he’ll dump me on the apartment’s doorstep instead.
It’s time for me to take his words at face value because this time, he backed them up with action and left me floundering in confusion.