Chapter 52
fifty-two
“Here.”
Startled, I look down to see a thick, black piece of plastic land next to my coffee mug.
“What the hell is this?”
“A credit card.”
Eyes wide, they dart between Rowan and the card, mouth parted slightly in shock. I can’t help it. It’s a freaking black Amex. You know. The one all the rich people use?
“The fuck, Ro?”
He shrugs and takes another bite of his avocado and cheese omelet. “Since I’m going to be in meetings most of the day, I thought it would be good for you to go have some fun. Go shopping, sightseeing, or whatever. Evo will drive you after he drops me off at Paramount.”
When I toss the offensive hunk of plastic back at him, he barely manages to catch it before flies off the edge of the counter.
“First of all, I don’t want or need your money, you ass,” I grouse, lifting my cup to my lips. “Second of all: You take meetings on Sundays?”
“Hollywood never sleeps.”
I snort into my cup. “That’s New York, weirdo.”
Rowan rolls his eyes and gets up to stand between my legs, placing his hands on my bare thighs as I sit perched on a stool at the kitchen island.
Slapping the card down on the counter, his warm hands reach up to cup my face, thumbs brushing my cheekbones as his hazel eyes lock with mine.
“Please don’t fight this, Iz. I told you.
I want you to have the full Hollywood experience.
After Evo drops me off, he’ll take you wherever you want to go.
Rodeo Drive, the Hollywood Walk of Fame, even the beach. ”
I try to look away, but his grip tightens just enough to keep my gaze on his. “I don’t need your money,” I mutter, my resolve weakening under his intense stare.
“It’s not like that.” His voice softens as he leans in closer. “Let me do this for you.”
My heart flutters traitorously in my chest. I hate how easily he can break down my defenses with just a look, a touch. But there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that makes it impossible for me to fight with him about this.
“Fine,” I sigh, reaching for the card. “But I’m not going crazy with it.”
His face breaks into a grin that makes my stomach do a little flip. “Whatever you say, Sunshine.”
He leans down to kiss me, and I melt into him, wrapping my arms around his neck. His lips are soft and warm, tasting of coffee and everything unmistakably Ro.
My body responds immediately, heat pooling low in my belly as his hands slide from my face down to my waist.
When he finally pulls away, his eyes are dark, hooded with desire. “If we don’t stop now, I’m going to drag you back upstairs, and I’ll definitely be late for my meeting.”
“What a tragedy,” I tease, running my fingers through his hair.
“Fucking catastrophic,” he agrees, stepping back with a reluctant grin. “Come on. Let’s get ready. We need to leave in about twenty minutes.”
I hop off the stool and head upstairs to change. After a quick shower, I throw on a pair of high-waisted jeans, cropped black tank top, and a light blue flannel. Casual but cute—perfect for exploring LA.
When I come back downstairs, Rowan is waiting by the door in a pair of navy slacks and a white dress shirt. The sleeves are rolled up, exposing his forearms.
How in the ever-loving hell is it possible for someone to look this effing good?
“Ready?” he asks, eyes roaming over me in appreciation.
“Yup.”
When we step outside into the bright California sunshine, Rowan’s black SUV is already waiting. Evo, looking as intimidating as ever in his black suit and sunglasses, is waiting for us, ready to open the back door.
“Morning, Miss Cade,” he says, opening the back door for us. “Mr. Cole.”
“Just Lizzy is fine, Evo,” I reply with a smile as I climb in.
Rowan slides in close, pressing his thigh against mine like he always does.
As we pull away from the house, I grab my phone from my purse to check my messages and see several texts from Sasha lighting up my screen.
SASHA
Girl, you need to check your Instagram RIGHT NOW.
Also, are you okay? Call me when you get a chance.
Holy shit, the pictures from that gallery thing are EVERYWHERE!
You look fucking amazing, by the way.
“Everything okay?” Rowan asks, peering over my shoulder.
“Not sure,” I mutter, opening my Instagram.
Holy crap! My notifications have exploded.
Heart pounding, I tap on the first one. It’s a tag from a celebrity gossip account. The photo shows Rowan and me at the airport, his hand firmly gripping mine as we walk through the terminal behind Evo.
“Oh shit,” I gasp, scrolling further.
The next post is a series of photos from the gala. The first shows Rowan and Carrie, her hand on his chest as she leans in close.
The second is of me and Rowan, hand splayed firmly against my lower back as we walk the red carpet.
As I scroll down even further, my stomach sinks when I see the next two pictures displayed side by side.
One is of Walker Prince with his arm draped over my shoulders, both of us laughing as we talk in front of my painting.
And the other? Rowan with his arm around my waist, glowering at an amused Walker after he’d yanked me away.
The caption makes me cringe.
@RowanCole spotted with girlfriend @LizzyCadeArtist & ex-flame @JustCarrieSouthern at last night’s Crane Gallery Gala.
But wait a second, folks. A certain heartthrob doesn’t look too happy.
Looks to me like @TheWalkerPrince was making a move on Rowan Cole’s newest girl! #lovingthedrama #love-triangle?
“Fuck me,” Rowan mutters over my shoulder.
But I can’t stop scrolling.
There are dozens of similar posts, some speculating that I’m just a cover for Rowan and Carrie’s rekindled romance, others suggesting I’m cheating on him with Walker.
“This is insane,” I say, feeling slightly nauseated.
Rowan sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Izzy. I didn’t think it would get so out of hand.”
“It’s whatever,” I say, still scrolling through the seemingly endless comments. Some are supportive, but many are... not. “I knew what I was signing up for.”
Did I, though? The reality of being linked to Rowan Cole—being thrust into this bizarre spotlight—is hitting me harder than I thought it would.
When I switch over to glance at my profile page, I almost drop my phone.
“Holy shit!”
“What?” Rowan leans over, shoulder pressing against mine.
“My... My followers...” I stammer, blinking rapidly to make sure I’m not hallucinating. “I had maybe a little over 8,000 yesterday? Now it’s...” I can barely get the words out. “…over 250,000.”
Letting out a low whistle, his lips curve into a satisfied smile. “Looks like a lot of people are interested in your art.”
“My art? Or as your girlfriend?” I shoot back, scrolling through the flood of new comments. Most are variations of “Who is she?” and “Are you really dating Rowan Cole?” with a disturbing number of “Back off, he’s mine!” thrown in for good measure.
“Both,” he says, snatching my phone so he can scroll through the comments himself.
My phone buzzes with an incoming call. “It’s Sasha,” he says as he hands it back to me.
I decline it with a grimace.
“You should talk to her,” he says gently.
“Later,” I promise, tucking my phone away. “After I’ve had a chance to... process.”
Rowan takes my hand, lacing our fingers together. “For what it’s worth, you handled everything like a pro last night.”
“Even Walker?” I ask with a cheeky smile.
His expression darkens slightly before he shakes his head with a sheepish smile. “Even Walker. Nothing like a little jealousy to juice up the headlines, don’t you think?”
I snort, leaning against his shoulder. “Is that all it was? A publicity stunt?”
Unlinking our hands, he wraps his arm around me and pulls me closer. “You know it wasn’t,” he murmurs into my hair.
It would be so easy to believe him, to fall completely into whatever is happening between us. But a lifetime of hurt and disappointment makes me cautious, even though I’ve fallen for him. Again.
“We’re here, sir,” Evo announces as we pull through the studio gates and up to a large, four-story building.
Rowan sighs, pressing a quick kiss to my temple. “I’ll try to wrap up early. Text me if you need anything, okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” I assure him, forcing a smile. “Go convince those stuck-up execs you deserve to be Paramount’s newest big-shot Hollywood director.”
With one last lingering look, he climbs out of the car. I watch through the tinted window as he flashes his ID to the security guard and disappears through the door.