Chapter 20 #2
“So what’s the payday on your little film?”
“I didn’t ask.”
“Jesus, Bash. You’re really killing me.”
Sebastian captured her gaze, watching her while he spoke. “I’m putting you back on speaker, Slash. Arabella deserves to hear this entire conversation. But for the love of God, stop yelling.”
He placed his phone back on the table and hit the speaker button. Then he held out his arms. Understanding his wordless request, she transferred Chicane into Sebastian’s lap, where the bunny promptly began to utter his happy sounds.
Traitor.
“There’s something I need to tell you both, but it has to stay between us. You cannot allow this to leak anywhere or it will be bad for me and worse for Arabella.”
He wouldn’t…
“Arabella and I have an understanding. One of Walter’s conditions for me to take the role—”
“Grandpa has conditions?! Who the fuck does he think he is?” Slash roared and Chicane startled in Sebastian’s arms.
Remy successfully fought another flinch, better prepared this time. Just like when she was young.
Sebastian’s voice was modulated, but Remy could tell he was barely keeping a lid on his own anger. “Slash. I warned you. One more time, and I’m fucking done with you. I’ll end our relationship.”
“You—you wouldn’t. You’d end more than twenty-five years of friendship and a successful professional relationship envied by most of Hollywood over a fucking role?”
“Not over the role by itself, Slash. Because of your behavior. Because you refuse to listen. Because I’m not sure I can trust you anymore.
I’m tired of fighting with you, brother.
It’s exhausting. So either support me the way I need and keep your fucking voice down, or draw up our separation papers. ”
Silence filled the room. Eventually, Ass-Slash spoke, this time much softer, but the vein of anger running through his voice was clear. “Message received. Now tell me about this…arrangement you have with the doctor.”
“Walter offered me the role on one condition.” Sebastian anchored his eyes on hers. “He said he didn’t want all my ‘playboy shenanigans’ casting a negative shadow over the film.”
Slash was blessedly silent, though Remy could just imagine him seething on the other end of the line.
“I’d just met my Scrub Angel,”—Remy’s eyes flared at the term and Sebastian quirked a cocky smile at her—“and she was nonstop on my mind. I may have blurted that I’d met someone and it was serious.
I told him about Arabella and how amazing she is and how besotted I am with her.
And how refreshingly different she is from the women I’ve dated in the past.”
Remy lifted a hand to her neck, fingering the E that resided in the hollow of her throat.
Was he for real? Once again, Remy had the terrifying realization that Sebastian was either an extraordinarily adept actor…
or that he truly saw something in her that resonated with him. Both elicited chills along her spine.
A fake marriage was one thing. But she’d never countenance a real relationship. She’d firmly closed the door on that a long time ago, and for damn good reason.
Carefully, Sebastian continued. “Walt was pleased and told me he’d make his final decision over the next couple months. After that, I reached out to Arabella, and she agreed to be my significant other until the film wraps post-production.”
Remy looked at the floor, stunned. For all her list of questions, she actually hadn’t thought to confirm specifics on the duration of their…
arrangement. How long did the movie take to film?
And what was post-production and how long did that take?
Was she really looking at a year, as he’d said when he first proposed this…
arrangement? Or would it be longer? Her heart beat a frantic staccato as she absorbed the implications.
Sensing her internal reaction, Sebastian shifted to face her—careful not to disturb Chicane—and smiled softly. Remy tacked a smile on her face, but inside, her guts were roiling like she had norovirus.
“So you’re going to just hook up with this chick until the filming is over?” Slash’s voice cut through their moment.
“Again. Not. A. Chick,” Sebastian responded, teeth clenched again.
Instinctively, she reached up and pressed against the pop of his jaw, massaging the joint. Sebastian’s eyes widened in surprise, and then he stunned her by lifting his hand and placing it over hers, squeezing gently.
She flashed to their kiss again and resisted the temptation to lean just a little bit forward and brush her lips against his.
Sebastian pulled their entwined hands down and placed them on the couch between them, his fingers laced between hers. “And I’m not hooking up with her. We’re dating. And then we’re going to get married.”
“For show…” the woman named Melody led.
“For us, for our own reasons.”
Remy was quite certain her heart stalled in her chest. She pushed her free hand against her sternum, verifying that she still had sinus rhythm.
“Jesus.” Slash’s loud sigh carried through her living room. “Ok, you get a role in a puny indie film out of this. What does Arabella get?” He emphasized her name sarcastically.
Yep. It was definite. She loathed this assbasket.
When Sebastian hesitated, she telegraphed to him not to say it. But he clearly wanted it all on the table.
“I’m giving her twenty million dollars—”
“Twenty fucking million dollars?! That chick’s fleecing you for—”
This time Remy didn’t have to fight a flinch. She was too distracted by Chicane. Her fur baby had flattened his ears, crouching low on Sebastian’s lap.
As Sebastian’s agent continued to rage, she gently pulled Chicane away and nestled him in her arms, rocking side to side.
Her heart broke when she observed his faster breathing, evidence of his innate fear response.
Remy nodded her head toward the phone and shooed Sebastian away from her and Chicane, then crooned soothing sounds into his fur.
Sebastian followed instructions and stood, turning off the speaker and pacing away from the sofa as he addressed his so-called friend. “Pipe it down and show some respect, Guinn, or I swear to Christ I’m hanging up this phone and you’ll never work with me again.”
This time, she couldn’t hear Ass-Slash’s response, but it apparently was sufficient to de-escalate Sebastian’s ire.
“No one is fleecing anyone, Slash. She didn’t ask for anything.
I offered it. The funds are going to keep a domestic violence shelter in the community open and stabilize it for the future.
Now, I’m putting you back on speaker until we wrap this, because Arabella is my partner in all of this and she deserves to hear it all.
” Sebastian rested the phone back on the table, forcefully tapping the speaker button.
“And as for the amount of money,” he continued, “you and I both know I have more than enough.”
“Unbelievable. Christ, you could have even more,” Ass-Slash grumbled. “And not be out twenty million on top of it.”
“We’ve been friends for a long time, Slash, and you’ve been my agent almost as long.
I would think as my friend, if not my agent, you’d be most interested in the thing that makes me happy.
” Sebastian’s shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes, sounding defeated.
“But it almost sounds like you’re more concerned with your own commission on my paycheck.
And I hope, I seriously hope that’s not the case. ”
“Dude—I’m looking out for you. I always have. You’re my best friend.” Slash’s voice was conciliatory. But there was something oily about it, and Remy didn’t trust Ass-Slash a millimeter.
“Then support me when I do this, Guinn.”
A pause and then a sigh from the phone. “All right, man. I’ve got your back. Like always.”
Sebastian exhaled a long sigh, rubbing his eyes. “Thanks, brother. I know you do. Listen, as long as I have you both, we need to get some security for around here. We’re living in a neighborhood, and I don’t trust the paps.”
“Not to mention stalkerish women pissed that their dream guy is off the market. At least for a while,” Melody added.
The blood in Remy’s veins froze. Stalkers? A familiar frisson of fear lanced down her spine, and she couldn’t help the physical shiver that followed it.
Sebastian, missing nothing, narrowed his eyes in concern. ‘Don’t worry,’ he mouthed again.
Don’t worry? Don’t worry?? Crazy—possibly violent—stalkers? One more aspect of this she naively hadn’t considered.
She cradled Chicane, his erratic breathing now back to normal. She wished hers was.
Twenty million for St. D’s. Eyes on the prize, Remy. He won’t let anything happen to you.
Her gaze traveled automatically to the photo on her mantle.
But what if something happened to him?