Chapter 16
Sixteen
Eighteen Years Earlier
Bronwyn stood on the edge of The Haven Christmas party and pretended to be interested in the people around her. Thirty more minutes and she could escape. Her parents had been so excited to get her out of their hair, they’d agreed to a sleepover at Meredith’s tonight.
“Bored?” Corbin Driscoll stood a few feet away, sipping on some kind of amber drink in a glass. He didn’t look at her, but there was no one else around so he must be talking to her.
Bronwyn called on every moment of etiquette and manners her grandmother had ever attempted to instill in her. “Of course not, Mr. Driscoll. I’m having a lovely evening. I hope you are?”
A large round ice cube sloshed in his glass as Corbin Driscoll snorted a laugh.
When he regained control of himself, he took another sip and leaned toward her.
“Bronwyn, darling, you’re already excellent at schmoozing the guests.
You’d make an excellent producer. But do us both a favor and don’t go into acting. ”
She lifted her chin ever so slightly.
“And please, for the love of all that’s holy, I’m not that old. Call me Corbin.”
A thrill shot through her. Corbin Driscoll—the producer everyone wanted on their project, the mind behind some of the biggest movies of the past five years—just told her to call him by his first name. “I couldn’t—”
“Nonsense. You aren’t a child. Anyone with half a brain can see that. You’re smarter than almost everyone in the room. Those who claim anything different are just trying to bring you down to their level.”
Corbin believed in her. The idea settled into the spot that had been ripped open earlier when her mother had told her that, at the rate she was going, they’d be lucky if they could marry her off to a B-movie director, as if she was breeding stock instead of their flesh-and-blood daughter.
She couldn’t wait to tell Meredith and Mo what Corbin had said.
But an hour later, when she curled into the cozy sofa in the Quinns’ living room and Meredith asked her about the party, she kept that tidbit to herself. It would have sounded haughty to say that one of the brightest minds in Hollywood thought she was a shining star.
Right?
A month later, when the email hit her inbox, Bronwyn could hardly believe it. Corbin had sent her a list of articles about movie production. She read everything he sent and then, with trembling fingers, hit reply.