11. Finn
FINN
I was in my car and back at the office before Jillian had time to brief Sierra. I walked into the conference room mid-explanation.
Confusion clouded Sierra’s face as she scrolled through the photos on Jillian’s tablet. I could see them as I moved in closer, and I couldn’t help wincing. The images were even more damning blown up like that.
“Oh my God!” Sierra said as she realized what was going on. “That’s not what it looks…” She pointed at me. “He’s not…I don’t know what…He was not proposing?—”
“Definitely not,” I said.
She glared at me, setting the tablet down. “You didn’t have to say it like that .”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m the lowliest commoner in your kingdom.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s not what I said. I meant I’d never be proposing in a place like that. It’s filthy and smells like mothballs.” I pointed at the tablet. “You’re telling me that’s actually where you’d want to be proposed to?”
She crossed her arms and shrugged. “I do love costumes. With the right person, it would be kind of romantic.”
I scoffed. “I’d be aiming higher than ‘kind of’ with a proposal.”
“What it is doesn’t matter,” Jillian said, interrupting us. “All that matters is what it looks like to the public. And reactions have been big?—”
I blew a breath out between my teeth. How had I ended up in this situation? Again!
“—and really positive.”
“Wait, what?” I said at the same time as Sierra.
Jillian pulled up a news article, showing me the headline. Sexy CEO Strikes Again, but Could This One Be the Real Deal? “You and Violet declared your affair a couple months before Every Day ’s preproduction started.”
“It wasn’t an affair,” I growled, just making that clear to Sierra. “It was a friends-with-benefits situation. If we weren’t seeing anyone else and our schedules lined up, we’d have a good time together—that’s it.”
“So romantic,” Sierra muttered sarcastically.
“ Exactly ,” I shot back. “It wasn’t romantic at all, because neither one of us wanted it to be.
No stress, no drama, no strings. Anything you’ve heard to the contrary is tabloid bullshit.
And anyway, Violet and I had stopped seeing each other months before we made an official statement because we hated seeing ourselves in the tabloids. ”
“But the point is, we made that statement publicly, and now that this image has surfaced, the media is backtracking and drawing its own conclusions about the timing. And Milli?—”
That gossip-hungry influencer needed a new career!
“—is covering the news of the proposal like this is a significant change for you.”
“Oh, yes,” I snapped. “Because I’ve seen the error of my ways? We are not running with that. We’re clearing this up. Tomorrow.”
“I actually don’t think we should,” Jillian said. “Milli has had nothing but good things to say so far. She’s already dug into Sierra and decided she’s nothing like the other A-listers you’ve been seen with.”
Sierra made a face, huffing at me like I’d offended her. I hadn’t done anything!
“And this proposal is being taken as a real sign that you’re settling down,” Jillian explained. “You haven’t been seen at the clubs since preproduction started.”
“Because I’ve been too busy!” And I was usually only there to smooth over some deal for financing or to lock down a big name for a film. I hated clubbing. “This is ridiculous.”
“Well, this is the narrative that’s currently taking off: You’re a reformed bad boy who met a nice, normal girl and fell head-over-heels in love.”
Sierra scoffed loudly. “Who really believes that stuff?”
“People who like love stories,” Jillian stated dryly.
“Which, not coincidentally, is the same group of people who might want to buy tickets to our movie. It’s a PR boon like I’ve never seen before, and we need to chase it.
If for nothing else, then for the good of this production.
I really think the two of you need to pretend to be engaged until this movie comes out. ”
“Absolutely not!” Sierra cried, shaking her head vehemently. “Trust me, you don’t want me on this. I am the worst liar. I could never pull off a PR relationship and pretend I’m in love with Finn.”
I swallowed hard, surprised by how much her response stung. It wasn’t just the response but the speed at which she hurled it. But ultimately, I agreed. PR relationships only worked when they were believable. It required two people who were committed to selling it.
“No one will actually buy that we’re together,” I said. “Come up with a new angle.”
I stared at the blank screen in front of me, trying to put my words in order so I could send off this damn email already.
But I was still distracted by this proposal nonsense and how it was catching on with the public.
I’d sent Liam and Connor links to the press, and they had messaged to commiserate.
I see why you ran off , Liam had written.
Yikes , was all Connor wrote.
Yikes, indeed.
I tried to shove it from my mind, but no sooner had I distracted myself with work than Jillian had sent a follow-up email, trying once again to change my mind.
A knock sounded on my office door, and I glanced up. “Come in!” I barked, eager for another distraction.
Sierra popped her head in. Dammit, not that kind of distraction , I directed at the universe.
“Have a minute?” she asked .
“Yes,” I said, turning away from my computer as she slipped through the door and closed it behind her. She leaned against the door like she meant to flee the moment she could.
My eyes skittered up and down her body. I couldn’t help it. I was mesmerized by the flowy cardigan she wore and the way it whispered over her curves. I was…I couldn’t be thinking like this. Especially not after today.
“What is it?” I said, gruffer than I’d intended.
“Have you seen the latest email Jillian sent over?” she asked.
“Yes.” I’d opened it just long enough to be sure she was still banging the fake engagement drum rather than telling me anything new.
The increased clickthrough rate on Every Day articles since this morning was a tempting metric to consider, but I’d closed the email before I could give it any real thought. “What about it?”
“Did you read all of it?” she said.
“Enough of it,” I grumbled.
“Well, I did read through it,” Sierra said. “Did you see the part where there’s another period drama coming out with early awards buzz?”
My eyes narrowed. No, I hadn’t read that far. I snapped my head toward my computer screen, opening the email again, scanning.
“It’s a war drama about the weeks leading up to the Armistice,” Sierra said, crossing the office toward me. “And its lead actor and director are rumored to be in a relationship.”
“It’s propelling their stats over Every Day ’s,” I finished for her, finally getting to that part of Jillian’s email. Oh, hell no! That was unacceptable. Frustration boiled in my blood. This day just kept getting worse.
“The two films cover a similar time period,” Sierra said. “And the audience members that might not see a regular period piece like ours might be more tempted by a big, splashy war movie. And?—”
“They just changed their fucking release date?” I snapped. Way for Jillian to bury the goddamn lede.
“To the same weekend as Every Day ,” Sierra said. “Yeah.”
I curled my hand into a fist, trying not to slam it down on my keyboard. Fuck ! “We need to push Every Day .” Now we were in direct market competition for a box office opening weekend. Could we move the weekend? Sure. But we might end up competing with another big release in a more popular genre.
And anyway, there was nothing stopping this other production from also changing again. If they wanted to compete with us, they would. Dodging them wasn’t the answer. What I needed was to get people talking about Every Day the way they’d once talked about me and Violet.
Damn it all to hell. I needed this fake engagement. I need Sierra.
“Okay, look,” I said. “I can make this worth your while. If you agree to Jillian’s PR plan, I’ll finance a new Hart of Gold production for Ro.
I can’t promise her a budget like Every Day ’s for her debut film, but she’ll have input into the script selection—she can find a project that speaks to her.
I know how much she wants to direct. You work with me on this, and I’ll make that happen for her. ”
To my surprise, Sierra laughed.
My eyes narrowed. “What’s so funny?”
“I was actually coming in here to pitch you , but go on…keep it coming.”
I frowned at her. “Why were you going to pitch me? ”
Sierra tucked her hands into the pockets of her cardigan, sighing in a way that made her look a little sad. She walked toward me, and I tried not to stare at the way her hips swayed as she came around my desk. “Bring up the article Jillian attached.”
I opened the article.
“There,” Sierra said, pointing to one of the photos about the other production—the war movie. I clicked on it. “That guy…That’s Trey Rollins. My ex.”
Her ex ? My jaw tensed.
“We dated for a while, and one day he just ghosted me,” Sierra explained, her tone clearly aiming for casual, though I could hear an edge of bitterness. “No warning, no explanation. Just walked out of my life.”
“What’s he do in the industry?” I asked.
I felt the urge to say something comforting—but I had no idea what that something should be.
Still, a sense of protectiveness bubbled up in me.
I might not be able to make Sierra feel better right here and now, but at least I could make sure the guy never set foot on a Hart of Gold production.
“Stuntman,” Sierra said. “Anyway, it’s petty, but he was always so damn competitive.
” She crossed her arms. “We don’t even work in the same fields, but he was always trying to one-up me.
Like if I landed work on a project, he couldn’t just be happy for me, he had to go out and land something bigger and better.
One second, he’d act like we were partners and the next, he’d make some dig about the film I was working on. ”
“Sounds like a real gem,” I muttered.
“Honestly, in hindsight, dealing with his attitude was exhausting.”
“I guess he did you a favor then, disappearing from your life. ”
She let out a soft, humorless laugh. “You would think so, wouldn’t you? That him ghosting me would mean I was free from his garbage now? But being the asshole he is, he just tagged me in an Instagram post.”
“What kind of post?” I asked, hating the guy more with every passing second.
She shrugged, shaking her head. “Just a photo of him looking all heroic on the set of that war movie, but the caption…” Her fists clenched. “It said, ‘Nice to be working on a film with actual stakes. Can’t wait to see how Every Day Is Sunday holds up against real grit and passion.’”
A muscle in her cheek twitched. What the hell had she ever seen in this guy? “I think he’s trying to use the competition between our films to get in my head.” She gave me a tiny smile. “Anyway, I can’t let his movie win over ours.”
First of all, screw Trey for trying to publicly undermine her work even now.
But second of all, that worked out perfectly for me. “In that case,” I said. “Sounds like I’m the one doing you the favor.” This time I wouldn’t have to offer up life and limb or any more of that goddamn RevX energy drink to get Sierra on board. “So let’s stick it to him.”
“Oh, too late,” Sierra said, shooting me a smug grin. “I’m totally holding you to that deal for Ro. If I have to lie and endure a fake relationship, I should get something good out of it.”
“Something good?” I said. “You’re going to be moving into my penthouse. What could be better?”
“Excuse me?” Sierra said, her eyebrows arching. “Who said anything about moving? That wasn’t part of Jillian’s email. ”
“Not yet, but I’ve been working with her long enough to know the moment we say yes, that will be next on her agenda.”
“I’m still not hearing any reason why that would be necessary.”
I leveled her with a challenging look. “It’s all about optics, Sierra. Why would any fiancée of mine be living in some middling place in Beverlywood?”
“Middling?” she said, taking immediate offense. “Are you calling my place?—”
“Plain, unexceptional, second-rate?” I said, smirking at her annoyed face. “Not at all, fiancée.”