Chapter 2
Chapter Two
I n the back of the limousine, Delta James pulled up yet another article on her phone: Have Actor Ignacio Santana and R&B Artist Delta J Reignited Their Old Flame?
The writer went on to say, Could it be true? The playboy of Hollywood and his good girl R&B princess are back together again?
She skimmed the rest of the article in favor of the photo in the middle, which showed her and Ignacio at the party. They had accidentally bumped into each other, and he reached out to steady her by grabbing her arm. But the photo looked as if he were holding her instead, their eyes locked on each other as she gazed up at him.
No wonder people thought they were back together. Based on the angle, the image was suggestive and had been shared countless times across the Internet, with their names trending on the major social media platforms for hours.
She rubbed her right arm, feeling the phantom burn of his touch. Eleven years later, and he somehow still managed to affect her profoundly.
“People love a reunion story,” her father said, seated beside her.
Edward James was known throughout the music industry as Eddie J, the cutthroat manager who had negotiated the best deals for his singer daughter. Since starting in this business, his mahogany skin had begun to show wrinkles around his eyes, and he’d developed a belly that hinted at his love for alcohol and rich foods, though his mind was as sharp as ever.
“Seems that way,” Delta said, gazing out the window.
Except she and Ignacio weren’t reuniting. They had barely spoken at all, aside from when he apologized for bumping into her, and she had absolved him of guilt with an “It’s okay” and hurried away.
She saw him one other time during the night, across the crowded room, but that was the extent of their interaction. Nonetheless, the two of them together had created shockwaves because of their history. Meeting when they were both thirteen, they became friends first and then much more. They lost their virginity to each other at sixteen, followed by five tumultuous years of breakups and makeups until…
She chewed the inside of her cheek, stopping herself from going down the road of gnawing regret that consumed her to this day.
Delta turned to her father. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“Of course I’m sure,” he said. “Do you really think I’d take you to meet him if I wasn’t confident he’d agree to this? Ignacio has no choice. He needs the publicity as much as you do, and that’s the beauty of this whole plan. You’ll be helping each other. It’s not one-sided. When your ‘relationship’ is over, you won’t owe him, and he won’t owe you because you’ll both have gotten what you wanted out of the deal.”
The deal.
She hated those two words together. More often than not, they caused her problems. “Why couldn’t Mom come?”
Her father could be a bit abrupt in his drive for success, while her mother, Jocelyn, often tempered his behavior with her more reasonable approach.
“She’s on one of her shopping sprees,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
Retail therapy, her mother called her jaunts to spend money. Sometimes she flew out of town to New York or overseas. Delta never complained when a trip ended up going over budget. Shopping was a lot less destructive than the gouging her mother used to do when she was Delta’s merchandising manager and let alcohol control her behavior. Removing her mother from that role and giving her the BS title of “advisor” had been a difficult but necessary decision.
“I think we should have given Ignacio more time to consider the idea,” Delta said.
“Have I taught you nothing in all these years? Strike while the iron is hot. We couldn’t buy this type of publicity if we tried, and delaying would risk having you and Ignacio removed from the spotlight. Even worse, he could find some other way to promote his film and not need you at all. This way, we maintain the urgency of the situation.” Her father returned his attention to the open file on his lap.
Delta didn’t bother inquiring about what he was looking at. He managed all her affairs and had done so ever since she was a child. The fickle nature of the music industry meant that though she’d had two multi-platinum albums and subsequent successful tours, her third album had not seen the same type of numbers as the first two. Sales had declined, streams dropped off, and she’d had to cancel the latter part of her third tour due to lack of sales.
Bottom line, her father was right. She needed the agreement with Ignacio. Her only concern was getting out of their so-called relationship unscathed.
The chauffeur pulled up to the building where Ignacio lived, and Delta and her father went inside, her heels clicking on the tiled floor. No one bothered them. In fact, they barely glanced in their direction. There was a time she couldn’t go out without bodyguards or had to wear disguises. A failing career meant such extremes were no longer an issue.
A man at the front desk called up to Ignacio’s apartment, and Delta held her breath as she waited. To her surprise, he granted permission for them to go up.
Inside the elevator, she quickly assessed her appearance. She wore a powder blue jacket and powder blue slacks with clear heels, exposing her toes painted a soft pink color to match her manicure. Under the jacket, she wore a pink bustier and had pulled her hair into a clip-on ponytail. Dark sunglasses covered her eyes, allowing her to hide a little as she steeled her nerves for the meeting with Ignacio.
On the tenth floor, she released a slow breath and walked behind her father to the condo, keeping her eyes on his close-cropped hair, which displayed a sprinkling of gray.
When they stopped at the door, her pulse kicked into higher gear, and her pink nails dug into her palms as she clenched her fists. Despite all that, she was ill-prepared for the stunning man who opened the door before they could knock.
Look up the phrase “movie-star good looks,” and there was bound to be a picture of Ignacio Santana in the search results. He stood shirtless in the doorway, wearing only a pair of red boxer briefs. Why was he dressed like that?
She quickly lifted her eyes from the way the material clung to his thick thighs and showcased his impressive bulge. A lit cigarette hung from the corner of his mouth. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, dark stubble on his chin, and his hair tumbled over to one side in an array of brown and honey-blond curls.
His gray eyes met hers behind the sunglasses for a fraction of a second, and the world came to a standstill as she forgot to breathe. He’d always had that effect on her, from the first moment she’d seen him at thirteen. She thought he’d say something to her, but he spoke to her father instead.
“What do you want?” he asked.
Edward straightened his back. At six feet, he was tall but two inches shorter than Ignacio. “We want to talk to you.”
Ignacio removed the cigarette from between his lips. “About what?”
Edward sighed. “You know what, but you’re not going to make this easy, are you? I’m sure Yvonne told you we were on our way. We want to discuss the viral photo from the other night.”
“You came all the way here to talk to me? You couldn’t talk over the phone?”
“We were in town and thought it best to have this conversation face-to-face.”
Bracing his legs shoulder-width apart, Ignacio folded his arms across his defined chest. “I don’t want to talk to you, so you can leave. If you had called, I could have saved you a trip.”
“I think you should reconsider. This is a mutually beneficial agreement we’re proposing.”
“I don’t want anything to do with you—or her.” His eyes bored into Delta.
His words hit like a hammer to the heart. As she’d feared, this was a bad idea. But she would not allow him to see how his harsh words hurt. She straightened her shoulders and angled her chin higher, staring right back at him.
“Give me five minutes to lay out the idea, and if you’re not interested, we’ll leave,” Edward said.
Ignacio smirked. He knew that was a lie. Her father never gave up that easily. Holding the cigarette between his forefinger and thumb, he took a heavy drag and then blew the smoke in her father’s face.
To Edward’s credit, he didn’t cough or react at all, unlike Delta, who immediately covered her nose to keep the acrid smoke from invading her nostrils.
“You have five minutes.” Ignacio turned away from the door and walked deeper into the condo.
Delta gave a delicate cough as she followed both men inside. Goodness, the place was a wreck. Apparently, he’d had one of his famously wild parties the night before. Her gaze landed on a pink and gold stiletto, and something inside her twisted, forcing her to turn away. Ignacio was seldom without female company, and the owner of the shoe was probably buried under the covers of his bed, impatiently waiting for his return.
One of the drawbacks of ending a relationship with a famous man meant, at any time, she could be inundated with images of him enjoying himself with someone—someone who wasn’t her.
Ignacio stepped over some trash on the floor, and Delta’s eyes zeroed in on the letter “D” tattooed on his right shoulder blade in black ink. She had a tattoo in the same place, but it was an “I.” They had gotten the tattoos when they turned eighteen, during one of the periods they had reconciled. The ink was part of a recommitment ceremony they’d held in private.
Now that they were no longer together, it was ridiculous to have the initial of his first name on her body. Whenever she was asked about the letter, she always said the “I” stood for independence. Did he also lie and make up a story about what the “D” stood for? If so, what did he say? That it stood for Danger? Dedication? Destruction?
“Party last night?” Edward asked.
Instead of answering, Ignacio sat on the loveseat facing them, crossed his ankle over his knee, and spread his arms wide across the back of the chair. The cigarette rested between two of his fingers.
“I don’t suppose you’d consider putting on a shirt and pants?” Edward asked.
“Tick tock. Your time is running out,” Ignacio warned, looking like a sexy, swarthy-skinned vagabond with his half-naked body and unkempt hair.
Edward muttered something under his breath. “Here’s what I propose. You and Delta pretend you’re back together, using all the free publicity generated from your alleged reconciliation. Go on some very public outings, all to keep your name in the press and keep chatter going online about you.”
“Why would I join you in misleading the public?”
“Because it’s beneficial to you both. The first indie film you directed bombed, and from what I hear, you’re having a hard time funding your next passion project.”
The muscle above Ignacio’s left eye jumped several times. He’s furious.
“I can raise the money.”
Edward shrugged, strolled over to the window and looked at the city before he swiveled to face Ignacio again. “Maybe, eventually, but wouldn’t you rather do it sooner rather than later? All we have to do is negotiate the particulars of the ‘relationship.’ When we want it to end, which red carpet events you’ll attend together, talking points. This could be very easy.”
“Or very hard.”
“We can make it easy. Once we figure out the details, we get the lawyers involved to draw up the contracts.”
“If the public finds out we’re faking, you realize there could be a huge backlash, potentially destroying our reputations,” Ignacio pointed out.
“It’s in the best interest of both parties to keep this confidential, and, of course, an ironclad non-disclosure clause will be included in the agreement.” Edward made a theatrical pause. “What do you say, Ignacio? Are you in?”