Chapter 32 #2
“Lizzy.” His voice softens as he reaches across the counter, his fingertips brushing over the top of my hand. “I know it sounds like a lot. But think about it. We’ll stay at my house. It’s completely safe. No way the paparazzi is gonna get to you. Please say you’re in this with me?”
I can literally feel my resolve crumbling as I look into hazel eyes full of bated hope.
“I’m not even close to forgiving you, you know.”
“I know,” he whispers. “Think of this as a chance for me to prove that I’ll never leave you without saying goodbye again.” His voice softens even further. “Maybe even get one of my best friends back?”
I blink at him as his words hit something raw inside me. The sincerity in his eyes makes my chest ache in a way I haven’t allowed myself to feel in years.
“What would I even do there?” I ask. My voice sounds small.
“Well,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “There’s this gallery opening Saturday night. The owner is a friend of mine. I talked him into checking out your Instagram, and he really wants to meet you.”
My heart skips a beat. “When did you do that?”
“After I barged in on your little concert last week.” His lips quirk up into a half-smile. “You’re talented, Iz. Always have been. He was impressed.”
In an attempt to hide the flutter of excitement, I take another bite of my sandwich. A gallery in L.A. showcasing my art could mean serious exposure.
The practical side of my brain is already calculating what this could mean for my career, while the emotional side is screaming at me to run as far away from Rowan Cole—and what I’m sure are empty promises—as I can.
“What about the NDA?” I ask, attempting to stall. “Don’t I need to sign it first?”
“My lawyer is drawing it up. I should have it by tomorrow. We can handle it before we leave.” He hesitates, watching me carefully. “So... is that a yes? Will you be my fake girlfriend for real?”
Every fiber of my being is telling me this is a slippery slope. I should say no. Three days in L.A. with Rowan? Just us? Alone in his house?
Thoughts of every little thing that could possibly happen being all alone with Rowan in his domain send tingling sensations up my spine.
“Don’t you have a movie to make?”
He shrugs. “I’m not needed for those scenes. This has all been scheduled out in advance.”
I swallow my bite of croissant, trying to ignore the way my heart races at the prospect of spending a weekend with him. “And if I say yes, we’d just be... faking it, right? Just for the cameras?”
“That’s the deal.” His voice is steady, but something flickers in his eyes that I can’t quite read. “But you should know. When I told you I wanted my best friend back, I meant it.”
Best friend.
Not his girlfriend.
Not his lover.
A pang of disappointment hits and I push it away.
Taking another bite of buttery, chocolaty goodness, buys myself an extra minute to think. Honestly? I’m curious. Not to mention the opportunity to check out the gallery and meet the owner is pretty freaking tempting—almost too tempting—to pass up.
Plus, there’s a tiny part of me, a part I’ve been trying real hard to ignore, that wants to see this new side of Rowan. Where he lives. What his life is like. Who he is now. Is he really still the same boy I used to know, like he said?
“Fine,” I say, brushing crumbs from my fingers. “I’ll do it. But, as we’ve previously discussed, I have a few more conditions.”
When his face lights up, it’s like watching the sun break through clouds of hope. “Name them.”
“Separate bedrooms. Non-negotiable.”
“Done.”
“You pay for everything—flights, food, whatever.”
“Obviously.”
“And I want final approval on the NDA before I sign anything.”
He nods. “Absolutely.”
“And if at any point I say treehouse, you back off. No questions asked?”
“Already agreed to that one,” he says softly. “But the answer is still yes.”
His eyes drift down, and I realize my robe has shifted, showing off a good amount of cleavage.
Quickly adjusting the collar, I try to play it cool even as a flush creeps across my chest and up my neck. “One more thing. We need a plan for… after. When this… fake relationship inevitably ends, how are we going to stage the break up?”
“We can figure that out when the time comes,” he says, his eyes now firmly fixed on my face. “But I was thinking something along the lines of ‘mutual decision’ and ‘still great friends.’ Nothing too over the top.”
“And you really think people will buy that?” I ask skeptically.
“People will buy whatever we’re selling if we sell it right.” He flashes me his movie-star grin—the same one that’s all but combusted millions of panties to ash worldwide. “That’s the beauty of Hollywood.”
I can’t quite fight the smile tugging at my lips. “Okay. I’ll go with you.”
“Great,” he says, looking genuinely pleased. “I’ll have my assistant book the flights.”
The reality of what I’ve just agreed to hits me like a ton of bricks. I’m going to L.A. With Rowan Cole. My former best friend. To pretend to be his girlfriend.
What the actual fuck are you doing, Izzy?
“I should go.” He stands up and stretches. When the simple move causes his shirt to stretch taut across his chest and abs, my mouth goes dry. “I’ve got a few calls to make.”
“Right,” I nod, tearing my eyes away as I take a big gulp of my coffee. “Thanks for... staying.”
“You’re welcome.” His eyes soften. “And for what it’s worth? It was nice being here for you. Felt like old times.”
His words cause a weird tightening in my belly, and I have to glance away again.
“Well, I’m a big girl now,” I grumble. “I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can.” When he reaches the front door, he pauses, looking over his shoulder. “But sometimes it’s nice to let someone else do it for a change.”
Before I can form a response, he’s gone.
All I can do, for I don’t know how long, is sit and stare at my half-eaten breakfast. What the hell have I just agreed to?
Three days in L.A. with the man who’s ripped my heart out more than once?
The same man who, despite everything he’s put me through, still makes my heart stutter and my pussy clench?
Even as a tiny spark of excitement pings to life, an inherent feeling of trepidation tells me there’s no way this could end well.
Right?