Chapter 54
Chapter Fifty-Four
ROMAN
In the shower, Clover stares down at my compass tattoo as I turn on the water.
Her fingers run along the lines of the ink as she contemplates.
I step into the spray, leaving the spot directly under the showerhead for her.
I don’t want her to get cold. She steps in and lets out a sigh as the hot water touches her skin.
“Roman, why don’t you pursue music?” She asks out of the blue.
“I don’t know,” I admit. Grabbing a bar of soap, I lather up my hands and rub them over the smooth skin of her shoulders. She groans in appreciation as I use my thumbs to massage out the tension in her muscles there.
“Do you love it? Writing music?”
“Of course.”
“Why don’t you do it then?” She asks, beautiful eyes wide.
“I don’t know. Who’d care anyway? They’re silly little songs.”
A small hand reaches underneath my chin and turns my head so that I’m looking at her face to face.
“They aren’t silly. They’re beautiful, and it’s a crime to keep a gift like that locked up.
” My heart swells at her words. “What’s the harm in trying?
” She asks innocently before directing me to turn around.
With shampoo in her hands, she runs them through my hair, lightly massaging my scalp in a way that makes me wish this would never end.
“I’m just an actor.” Just an Everett.
She hums in response before grabbing my right hand and lightly tapping on the tattoo.
“Maybe it’s time for you to think about charting a different path.”
Once we’re all toweled off and in clean clothes, Clover and I head into the kitchen where I make us some breakfast. My kitchen skills sadly pale in comparison to Jill’s, so toast, eggs, and bacon will have to do.
Even though I know she’s likely to say no, I make her a plate and set it down across from her at the island. I want her to know it’s here if she wants it, but that she’s not expected to.
Fuck, she’s beautiful. Her wet hair tossed into a haphazard bun, and wearing only one of my dark grey t-shirts.
Buttering my toast, I smile at her like the lovestruck fool I am. Because I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Never let anyone in. Never wanted anyone to see who I was behind the persona that everyone thinks is me.
I walk around the island to stand beside her as I eat. She gives a mischievous grin before swiping my toast from me and taking a bite of it herself.
When we finish eating, I finally pick up my phone to look at it for the first time in hours.
“How bad is it?” she asks hesitantly.
Scrolling through my emails, I see that production is pausing for the next two days to review safety procedures and give Clover a chance to heal a little more.
“We start back up on Thursday. No issues.” What she doesn’t need to know is that I’m also being flooded with angry emails from Deacon, asking what the hell happened and why there’s a delay.
Speak of the Devil, a text from him flashes across my screen.
Deacon
Come to my studio office at noon.
With a quick glance at the top of my screen, I see that that gives me long enough to drop everything I’m doing to get to the studio in time. Classic power move on his part, but I also know I’m at his mercy for getting the franchise casting contract fixed. I have to make this right.
The last thing I want to do is hurt Clover, and I hate myself for ever doing something that would’ve hurt her in the first place. I was being a little shit, and I need to haul ass and get to Starlight Studios to fix it.
“I’ve got to run out and grab something from my trailer.
” The lie practically burns as it leaves my mouth.
I hate lying to her after how intimate the last day has been, but she can’t ever know what I did.
If I want this thing between us to turn into something more, what I did needs to be killed and buried.
“Do you want me to grab anything when I’m out? ” I ask.
Smokey chooses that moment to hop onto the island and lay in front of me, silently demanding I stroke her head.
“Extra cat treats, no doubt,” I mutter.
Clover laughs, “I think I’m good. Thank you though.”
Heading over to the door and putting on my shoes, I shout, “Jill should be back soon.”
“Sounds good.” Her voice comes from much closer.
I turn around, and she’s standing about ten feet away from me.
As if she wants to see me off but isn’t sure how to go about it.
Instead of letting her stand there and ruminate over what to do, I stride over and cradle her face in my hands before kissing her softly.
She bites down on her bottom lip once I’ve pulled away, trying not to break into a bigger smile.
“I’ll see you in a bit,” I say before heading out and beginning to steel myself for what I’m sure will not be a fun conversation with Deacon.
All the loud music in the world did nothing to calm my nerves going into this meeting. Of course, like the dickhead he is, Deacon makes me wait in the lobby for fifteen minutes before one of his assistants—no doubt an unpaid intern—grabs me.
When I enter the dark room, smoke curls around me.
“Care for one?” Deacon asks, gesturing to a box of expensive cigars on his ridiculously large wooden desk. He carries himself with the energy of a king looking down on one of his undeserving subjects.
“I don’t smoke anymore,” I try to answer as diplomatically as possible. He knows that, he’s trying to rub it in my face. But I know better than to take the bait. I refuse to give in and give him any excuse not to grant me this favor.
“Shame,” he says as he sets the cigar down, allowing it to continue to burn away, even though he isn’t smoking it. A waste. A taunt. “Now what was it you needed me to do for you?”
I bristle at the word “need”. But the truth is, he’s right. I do need this. And he’s the only one who can fix this for me.
Swallowing down any smartass comments before they get a chance to escape, I make eye contact with him.
I cross my arms and force myself to spit out the words. “It’s about the franchise casting agreement.”
“What about it?”
“When I signed on for future movies, I asked that the legal team add the clause about Clover Daly not being cast in upcoming sequels.”
He gives me a look that borders on disinterest, and I squeeze my hands. Dick.
“And what’s the problem? I was under the impression that they acquiesced to your little clause.” Deacon overly enunciates each word, and I know I’m fighting a losing battle when it comes to not blowing up at him.
“The legal team has been more than accommodating. But I would like to revisit the contract and strike that clause.”
Deacon laughs. “Strike it? The very thing you requested was put in?”
“I understand it’s a strange request, but–”
“Strange? No, Roman, it’s stupid.”
I bristle, because he’s not wrong. “Regardless of what you want to call it, it was a bad decision for me to put it in in the first place, and I’d like to fix it.”
Deacon runs his eyes across me from top to bottom, as if he’s trying to see anything in me aside from his disappointment.
“Why?” he asks.
I was dreading this question. Not wanting to let him know how much Clover has grown to mean to me, I stick with something else that’s true.
“She’s good. She’s better than good. It would be a mistake not to have her back on future films.”
Deacon pauses, picking up the half-burned cigar and taking a big puff. The smoke blows directly in my face, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me wave it away.
“That’s not what I hear, after yesterday’s mishap.”
I grit my teeth. “That was an accident, don’t hold it against her.”
“That accident cost us money over the shooting days we’ve lost.”
My hands shake with anger, but Deacon doesn’t give me a chance to respond yet.
“So I’m inclined to think you were onto something when you wanted her removed from future films.”
My stomach drops. No. “What do you need from me to ensure that clause gets scrubbed?” Gritting the words out, I run a hand through my hair. My fingers are full of nervous energy, and I could use a cigarette right now. Anything to help manage how I’m feeling.
“You really want her on the next film?” Deacon muses before taking another long pull from the cigar, puffing out a smoke ring.
“What do you need?” I repeat.
Deacon smiles. He knows he’s got me.
“I don’t know that you have anything to give, frankly. But I’ll see to it that it’s done.” With a sigh, he stubs the cigar out and drops his legs down from the desk.
I know better than to get my hopes up, but relief washes through me anyway because I so badly want to see this righted.
Deacon walks over to me and claps me on the back aggressively. “You owe me a favor,” is all he says before leaving me to stew in cigar smoke and apprehension.