Chapter 2
Marina Westcott
What an asshole . . .
My hands are still fisted as I bump the door open with my hip and step outside into the sunshine. The burn of rubber still lingers in the air, and the sound of engines and announcements has followed me out back. Despite my efforts, it’s race weekend, so there’s no escaping the crowds at the track.
“Hey, Marina?”
Noah’s voice reaches me before the exit door closes. I brace the door and wait for my brother to catch up. “What’s up?”
Grabbing the door, he lets it fall closed while we walk out together. “Are you taking off?”
“To the hotel, but I don’t leave Miami until early in the morning. I was told to be back tomorrow afternoon just in case we need rehearsals.”
“You’ll be at dinner, then? I’d like to hear about life in Vancouver and how you’re doing.”
Despite a reputation that he honed like a knife of being a player, Noah has always had a heart of solid gold. He never cared what others thought about him unless they mattered to him. Like his wife. Liv has never taken his love for granted. And he loves her to the end of the earth and back again.
A girl can only be that lucky to find the guy of her dreams willing to fight for her. They sure don’t exist in Hollywood.
I didn’t realize how tense I was, probably from the encounter I just had with that jerk of a driver, until my shoulders eased. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine.”
He grins, looking up at the cloudless Miami sky.
“Okay.” His tone tells me he’s not falling for my cliché response.
He always could see right through any act I tried to put on, whether it was for my parents, who always had too much faith in me to make wise decisions, or my oldest brothers, who tried their best to connect with me despite our age gap.
Eight years between me, the youngest, and Loch, the oldest of the siblings.
Maybe it’s because we’re closest in age and spent the most time together, but Noah knows the real me.
He was there for me through my teenage heartbreak and taught me not to take anyone’s crap, especially from a guy.
When my Broadway show closed just two weeks into its performance run, and I wanted to hide from the world, he helped me hold my head high.
He’s always been there for me . . . when I’ve let him.
I haven’t let him for a few months because I don’t want to discuss the turmoil of my life.
And because if he finds out about Corbin cheating on me, he’ll kill him, and if he doesn’t do the job, Harbor will, and then Loch will make sure there’s no evidence to convict.
Maybe it’s not such a bad idea after all.
I find myself grinning, not about murder, but is it so wrong to want to see Corbin scared out of his mind? Probably . . . I still smile.
He looks at me out of the corner of his eye, studying me. “What’s on your mind?”
Murder is probably not the appropriate answer here. “Nothing. Just enjoying the warm weather.”
“If you don’t want to discuss it, that’s okay.” Coming around, he hugs me to him. “I love you, little sis.”
I rest my head against him and give in, wrapping my arms around his middle. I haven’t noticed how closed off I’d become or how disconnected I am from everyone I care about until now. “I love you, too, big bro.”
We step back from each other, and he smiles at me. “So I’ll see you at dinner tonight?”
“Yep.” I grin and start backward to where the car waits. “I’ll be fashionably late, so start without me.”
“We’ve learned our lesson.”
I’m quick to add, “Congrats on the qualifying race.”
“Thanks.” He swings the door back open and chuckles. “Hey, and maybe don’t give our drivers such a hard time when you see them. They’re prickly at best.”
“Assholes at worst.” I laugh. “My mistake for thinking we were in the big leagues. If they can’t handle little ole me—”
“Not many men can, Marina.” His chuckle rocks his shoulders.
I still don’t think I’m fully accustomed to all of us being adults, but here Noah is looking the part with his lanyard and embroidered name on his shirt.
Khakis. He’s all in on the work these days, and into dad mode dressing.
It suits him because happiness is the most obvious thing about him.
Teasing, I fluff my hair on one side. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”
“Never a bad thing when it comes to my sister.” Nodding, he adds, “Stay away from race car drivers, though. They’re nothing but bad news.
” The warning doesn’t hit as hard when he says it so passively, but I get his drift.
Harbor and Loch may not have picked up on anything more than a conversation I was having with that driver in the paddock, but Noah’s tone echoed in caution when he walked in.
I took it as a pat on the back that he was worried more for the driver than me.
I duck into the back of the Town Car. Leaning against the vinyl, I release a deep breath as the car pulls away from the track.
“Traffic is bad,” I say, peering up at the driver in the rearview mirror.
“It’s always rush hour in Miami.”
I check the time on my watch, realizing I should have left earlier. “How long do you think it will take?”
His eyes glance down and then into the mirror again. “Forty-five minutes to an hour.”
“Really?” I tug on my lower lip and glance out the window. “I have a video call. Do you mind me taking it in the car?”
“I’ll raise the privacy glass for you.”
“Thank you.”
I open the email my agent sent and read through the questions, trying to come up with answers that don’t make me sound so pathetic. I’m struggling since I still can’t wrap my head around what happened myself.
A text vibrates my phone, and I look down. Lauren.
Can you talk?
I take a breath before facing my fears—my agent—and replying.
Yes.
She’s a badass, and no one fucks with her in Hollywood. She does the fucking . . . Ummm . . . I laugh, which feels good after the heaviness of the past few days.
Lauren is fiercely protective of her clients. She’s the perfect one to have my back in the middle of this mess.
I barely have time to send the text before the phone rings.
The privacy glass slides up, and I answer.
My agent is usually impeccably put together, but I can’t help but notice the dark circles under her eyes and strands of hair that have fallen in front of her face.
She swipes them back and then leans forward on her desk. “How are you, Marina?”
“That feels like a loaded question.”
“You’re looking good. I think Miami was the right decision. It’s a quick trip but got you out of the fire of the situation.” She taps the top of her glass desk. “It also gave me some time to get ahead of this before the press has a field day with it.”
“It’s not like we’re A-list celebrities, Lauren. No one will care about me or Cor, Co . . .” My tongue stutters around his name, causing me to avoid saying it altogether. “Or him.”
“You’re in a movie, and your star is on the rise. That makes you newsworthy and gossip-column fodder.” A heavy sigh fills the audio as it leaves her chest. “Listen, Marina, I’m sorry you’re going through this. Men suck. Your boyfriend sucks.”
“Ex-boyfriend.”
“Indeed. Although he’s the one who cheated, this is now a make-or-break moment for you.
I was awake half the night trying to think of every possible angle to spin this.
The reality is that men can cheat on their wives of fifty years with their son’s twenty-year-old girlfriend.
Everything bounces off them like Teflon, and they become the most in demand they’ve ever been. Ask me how I know.”
Sitting back in her chair, she continues, “Women are the ones who fight the labels, and those labels will trail you like cans tied to the bumper of a wedding car as you maneuver through your career.”
“That’s quite the visual.”
She nods. “I’ve seen it happen time and time again in Hollywood.
It’s utter bullshit, but you being the one cheated on can leave an unsavory taste in some studio execs’ mouths, as if you’re now undesirable.
Careers are ruined before they’ve had a chance to bloom, so I’ll be honest with you. We need to play this just right.”
“I agree. What do you suggest?”
“We crush him. We take Corbin Darian down first.”
As much as I love a great revenge plot, my heart aches at the sound of his name. “I don’t know, La—”
“I spent the last two days on calls with his team. I’ve convinced them it’s in his best interest to keep the new girl under wraps while you two finish the second movie and attend the premiere in a few weeks.
That gets you out of all public engagements, through the press tour for the first movie, and moving on with your lives in separate directions. ”
“Nothing feels right. This doesn’t feel natural.”
“You’re in disbelief and hurting.” Her tone softens from the hard-ass who called me and has probably been up all night dealing with my mess.
“Understandably, but this tale is as old as time. You were blindsided by someone you trusted.” Clearing her throat, she adds, “By someone you loved.” The word loved doesn’t sit quite right with me.
She continues, “I’ve been there. Things move fast in this town, so if we don’t control the narrative first, we’ll never get another chance.
This is why I’m here, to contain the damage before it spreads. ”
I take a deep breath as tears begin to form in the corners of my eyes as shame seeps in. I refuse to let them fall. Not over him. I raise my chin. “Okay. What do we do?”
“You need to be seen in public like you were this weekend, but look . . . how do I say it? Happier than ever. Free from the burdens of that bastard. Look the best you ever have, but don’t say one word to anyone about it, especially the paparazzi. Just show them he fucked up.”
“By looking good?”
“By looking drop-dead gorgeous.” She smiles. “You already do, but I’m having a killer wardrobe sent to you in Miami.
“You don’t need to. I have the perfect dress in mind. It’s going to make quite the impact.”
“Don’t hide when you get back to Vancouver either. Go out. Have fun. Live your best life. Be seen. Show off the hard work you do at the gym. Dress to kill Corbin with every photo that’s posted.”
“Won’t that clue them in that I’m going out without him?”
“We want clues. We don’t want a story to drop.” She tells someone standing off camera that she’ll take another call in five minutes.
Massaging my temple to tamp down the impending headache, I’m confused by the plan. Is it a plan or a revenge tactic? “Am I trying to make him jealous?”
“That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”
I stare at her for a moment, letting my head wrap around this idea. “What if he speaks to the press?”
“He won’t. His team knows this looks bad for him.
We’re not letting him off easily. It makes him look worse if he bad-mouths you.
So he’ll be trying to sell his side of the story the best he can, and we’ll let him as long as we get through our agreed-upon events first. When we’re ready, you will sit down with the right person, an interviewer, a woman who knows how it feels to be cheated on, and tell your side for a large fee. ”
“I never wanted to become famous, especially not for a scandal.”
“This is the hand you’ve been dealt, Marina.” She picks up her phone and brings it closer, lowering her voice. “I’m not asking you to do anything except exist and look great in public. When the time is right—”
“What if I never want to talk about the breakup? I have money. I don’t need to sell my personal life for a paycheck.”
“Then you never talk about your personal life, and hopefully, you’re already onto your next projects.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. “I like that.”
“I need to go, but let me know if you need anything, okay?”
“Thank you, Lauren.”
“Bye.” She hangs up, leaving me staring at my cracked screen. At least it still works. For now.
I look out the window at crowded beaches, shops, and blue skies. Everything is sunshine down here, which lies in stark comparison to the cloudy days of my life up north right now.
The destruction of my life isn’t out for public consumption yet, but there are plenty of people behind the scenes who are already well aware of what’s going on with me, him, and the wardrobe girl he had sex with.
This story is a ticking time bomb waiting to explode, my life and career being hit the hardest. It’s not fair.
It’s not fair to be the one left to pick up the pieces after the mess he created because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. Instead of admitting that we’re not a match made in heaven, which I would have agreed, he had sex with someone located only two trailers down from me.
I didn’t know someone could be so cruel. Now I do.
And Lauren is right. Happiness is the best way to retaliate, even if I need to force myself to fake it. I can do what I need to. I’m a professional. I just hope I packed a revenge dress in my suitcase.
I’ll make him swallow his pride, and he’ll beg to take me back when he sees me. It will be too late, but fun like that tenth birthday party and the go-karts.
Cash comes to mind. The grump.
I have no idea why it was so fun annoying him, but I enjoyed it more than I probably should have.
As soon as the car pulls up to the hotel, I head to my room on a mission.
Before talking to Lauren, I planned to attend the family dinner and then have a quiet night in, bingeing movies where the hero dies. But maybe, just in case I’m in the mood, I’ll go out instead.
A night out is beginning to sound a lot more appealing. Might as well have a little fun like Corbin did. I text a few friends to see who’s in town for a good time since I can’t think of a better place to let loose than in Miami.