Chapter 25
I spend the rest of the afternoon reading articles online. The story is everywhere. Salacious headlines, speculation, accusations—all about things that happened on the set of The Last Wave.
Allegedly.
The articles might be little more than gossip, but I know the truth.
When it all began, I was a dedicated actress minding my own business, trying desperately to perform my best. I stayed focused and kept my head down.
When I heard about the weekend getaway on a local island, I didn’t go with the others to blow off steam, and I never expected anything terrible would happen.
Though I should have.
Only the main players are mentioned in the articles—the accuser and accused. Their names leap from the screen, stirring up a storm of anger and regret.
Despite the unwelcome feelings, I read every article I can find. I’m in the middle of a blogger’s conspiracy theory, when there’s a knock on my door.
My first thought is of Alice, that she found a way inside the fence. My second guess is someone from the family, maybe Vincent or Chantal come to evict me.
Cautiously, I creep to the foyer. But it’s not anyone from the main house.
It’s Noah.
Relieved, I open the door. “Hey,” I say, somewhat hesitant. “They haven’t sent you to throw me out, have they?”
He grins but doesn’t ask what I mean. He doesn’t have to. He had front-row seats for the whole ugly scene.
“No. Don’t worry about Alice. None of that is your fault.”
He knows Alice? I don’t know why this surprises me, but the feeling is swiftly overtaken by a kick of guilt.
Because today’s drama was my fault. At least partly.
Noah glances over to the front gate. “Looked like you had a rough day, so I thought you might need some down time. Maybe come to my place for dinner and a movie?”
I lean on the door jamb with a heavy sigh. “You have no idea how good that sounds. I tried to work the television here, but everything’s in French. The remote, the channels, everything.”
“I have a solution to the TV problem, so there’s only one question left.” He pauses dramatically. “Pizza? Burgers? Vegan? I know the best places, and they all deliver.”
“How good is the pizza?”
“Just like home.” He steps back and holds out his hands. “You hungry now?”
I glance at the sky, realizing the storm has passed. “Starved,” I say, slipping on my shoes and joining him outside.
I’ve been glued to my computer since I returned, so fixated on the articles I forgot to eat. And it would do me good to have some company, to get my mind off of Alice and the tabloids.
Noah and I make the short walk across the courtyard to his apartment.
Inside, he takes me to a living room, or what the French would call a salon.
The modern aesthetic bleeds over from the rest of the rooms, but the American in Noah has left its mark.
A big leather couch faces an even bigger television.
He steps to the coffee table and picks up a remote control. “I found a movie you might like.” He hits a button, and the screen comes to life.
I don’t need to read the title. All I need is a glimpse of the crisscrossed surfboards and the girl beside them.
A girl with my much-younger face.
Groaning, I put my hands on my cheeks. “Nooo. Where did you find that?” My very first movie. A coming-of-age teen comedy with more budget than directing talent.
“I looked you up on IMDB.”
Nervous laughter escapes as I shake my head. “I was only seventeen. I’m sorry, but I can’t let this be the first movie of mine that you watch.”
“Who says it will be?” He lifts his brows, teasing me. “I saw another one years ago. It was listed in your projects, and I remembered the title. Then I remembered you.” He steps closer, his voice warming. “You were good.”
“Thank you,” I say, almost a whisper. I’ve been an actress for years, dealing with all manner of insults and praise.
But one compliment from Noah, and I melt inside.
“Always nice to hear.” Ignoring the flutter in my voice, I gesture to the screen and my teenage grin. “But this has got to go.”
“No problem.” He laughs good-naturedly. “I just wanted to see your reaction, but we can watch something else, something you haven’t seen. Or acted in,” he adds with a wink.
“I’d appreciate it.”
“But I’m definitely going to your next movie when it hits theaters. I’ve never known any actors and, honestly, it would be kind of cool to see your face on the big screen. I tried to read about it, but the description only said it was in production.”
The first tendrils of unease wind through my stomach.
“What was it called?” Noah looks to the side before his gaze snaps back to mine. “Oh, right. The Last Wave.”
The last of my smile drops from my lips, and Noah notices.
He stops and frowns. He backs out of the streaming service, and my face disappears from the screen. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No, no, it’s not that.” I reach out as if to touch him, but let my arm drop. “I love that you thought to have my first movie pulled up and ready to go.”
“Well, something just happened,” he says, taking my hand and guiding me to the couch. We sit, but he keeps hold of my fingers. “Is it Alice?”
“No,” I say. “Not entirely.”
Biting my lip, I decide to tell him about my last movie. And why I came to Paris. With articles shouting from every news site, he’ll find out soon enough.
“The movie, The Last Wave . . .” I trail off, unsure what to say, how much to tell him. “It isn’t going to happen,” I say, trying to keep my voice and my nerves steady. “Production issues,” I add.
Technically the truth.
“I’m not supposed to talk about what happened or why the film was shut down. I haven’t spoken about it to anyone other than my agent, Lin. She’s the one who set me up in the apartment. She sent me here to keep my head down.”
I laugh at the absurdity of what I’m saying. “Basically, I’m hiding out.”
Noah’s face creases with concern. “Hiding out from who?”
“A scandal. The press. Paparazzi.” I let go of his hand and lean back on the couch. “The movie fell apart after some accusations were made.”
As soon as I say the words, I see Mackenzie’s face, her shame as she confessed her secret.
And her fury when I confessed mine.
“Unfortunately, you can read all the details online,” I tell him, hoping he’ll understand I don’t want to get into specifics.
“Right now, all of us who worked on the film are keeping low profiles. No one wants their name attached to the film or to the negative publicity. Especially now there’s talk of charges being filed, and there’s the chance of being questioned.
Maybe called to testify, if it goes to court. ”
“Will it come to that?” he asks.
“I don’t know, but if it does, it could get ugly. Fast. These things are always messy, but when rich, powerful people are in the mix, careers can be destroyed. Lives can be ruined.”
“I’m familiar with those kinds of people,” Noah says.
I think of the Marteau family wealth and history. “Then you understand the risk of going against them.”
“I do. It’s why my mother took me to the States after my father died. She was afraid they would try to control her, have too much say in how I was raised, turn me into one of them.” Noah puts his hands on his knees. “But I’m back now, claiming what’s mine.”
His shoulders are squared, his gaze is clear, not a hint of fear or intimidation.
“You’re brave,” I say. “But I’m not sure I am.”
Or else I wouldn’t be here, hiding in Paris.
“I agree with your agent,” Noah says. “Stay here and let it die down. You don’t have to worry about testifying if you don’t know anything, right?”
“Right,” I say, ignoring the small pang. Something aches inside, and I can’t tell if it’s fear or regret.
My phone rings in my pocket; I sit up straight. “Sorry,” I say, pulling out my phone. I see the name filling the screen.
And my stomach drops to the floor.