Secret Mistress

by Victoria Arabpour Pinder

  He didn’t leave and she pouted her lips. “That’s too bad. She really was in love with you.”

  His pulse pounded and he wasn’t sure what he’d do. He tossed his horrible second cup that lacked flavor into the trash. “Love means trust.”

  She snorted and put her makeup back on the table. It hadn’t helped. She was still ready for a death scene more than a romance. “I guess. Ashley has little reason to trust you or any Morgan. If she was smarter, she’d have learned to keep her lips closed and taken you as you are. Why should you change for her?”

  Where he chose others over her and ignored her? “That doesn’t sound like happiness or love.”

  She stood but winced as she pressed her hand to the lower right side of her abdomen. “What do you know about love?”

  That you don’t chase after people who don’t love you back was something he knew for sure. “More than you I guess.”

  She walked toward him, more of a march, actually, like a wounded soldier. “Look, we all have to take care of ourselves first. I’m hoping Ashley learned her lesson that you can’t pin your hopes and dreams on one person fulfilling your life.”

  Which he’d destroyed when he’d betrayed her trust in him. He stepped out of her way and asked, “Then why are you obsessed with Peter?”

  She stood next to him in the door frame and stared up at him. She wore Ashley’s perfume—the rose scent would always remind him of Ashley. “I’m not obsessed. He loved me.”

  How was Jennifer the current it girl of Hollywood and no one saw the truth of how she used people to get what she wanted? His stomach twisted because he was exactly the same.

  He’d used Ashley too. “That wasn’t love.”

  She patted his cheek and stepped into the hall. “You weren’t there to see, but I know you. You’re afraid of love. No wonder you’re so wooden in love scenes. I get it now.”

  “Get what?” he called out behind her.

  Jennifer’s walk lost some of its sway as she stiffly soldiered on.

  She mirrored him when he’d broken his leg on that stunt three years ago and continued to show up to film until they wrapped.

  His doctor said he’d almost ruined his ability to walk, forever. He swallowed and wished he didn’t see himself in Jennifer, of all people. She hurt people just like he’d done—she glanced over her shoulder and said, “Look, the audience sees your easy-going charm as meaning your heart is still out there for them to have, but you don’t have one to share. No wonder Ashley was hurt.”

  His stomach twisted like she cut him with a knife but he walked next to her as he said, “She said you used her.”

  Jennifer huffed as they made it to the black room where they’d block near the green screen later. Crew passed with set props for the hotel room scene. Jennifer said, “She let me, because she has this need to be cared about. It’s her weakness.”

  At least Ashley had tried to live fully. He couldn’t recall one moment he’d ever given anything to anyone other than himself. He crossed his arms and said, “Or her strength.”

  “See you on set.” She winked and headed toward her seat.

  Right.

  He glanced at the taped spot on the floor where he was due to stand for an hour.

  Today was a tech day where the crew mostly took his measurements and he pretty much stood still.

  But the fire in his blood hadn’t calmed down. He turned around and headed toward his dressing room. A splash of water on his face might help. As he opened his door, an older woman who was slightly heavy-set, with a gray streak in her hair, stood, holding her pocketbook in front of her. “Mr. Morgan?”

  This woman seemed harmless and hopefully whatever she wanted would take his mind off of Ashley so he nodded and said, “Matt is fine. How are you?”

  She stepped forward. “My name is Medina. We met briefly, yesterday morning, at Ms. Gonzales’ house.”

  The name rang a bell. Yesterday, the last day he’d spent with Ashley.

  His entire body froze. Yes. Ashley had spoken to Jennifer’s maid requesting Cosimo’s car seat. He motioned with his hand, “Jennifer’s filming but her dressing room is next door.”

  Medina’s face thinned but she shook her head. “I’ll deliver her report in a moment, but I wanted to talk with you about Miss Ashley.”

  Her name alone sent butterflies in his stomach. He lowered his head and said, “She’s gone.”

  Medina gave a curt, businesslike nod. “Yes, to Miami to pack her things. I spoke to her this morning, but I was hoping to give her my resume and tell her I’m willing to move, wherever she goes. I can put in my notice with her cousin.”

  Wait. His eyes widened. Home. She’d really left him. “She went to Miami?”

  Medina blinked like she thought this was old news as she simply said, “Si. She had an apartment and a few mementos she wanted.”

  He took the older woman’s wrinkled hands. “Then where is she going?”

  Medina said, “She was still deciding, sir. If you speak to her before me, can you tell her I want a job?”

  “I’ll hire you if Ashley doesn’t. I own a few homes… I hope she’s happy.” He let her hands go.

  The idea that he’d hurt a nice woman who loved him because he’d interfered in his family’s lives made him feel small.

  Jennifer and Anthony weren’t his business.

  And he’d ruined his own happiness in the process.

  Medina had no idea what he was thinking as she shuffled toward the door. “I’m sure she will be. Nice people always end up well in the end.”

  Ashley deserved only happiness which wasn’t something he’d ever truly had in his empty life. He held the door for her. “You’re right. She’s better off.”

  A stage hand passed in the hall and said, “Matt, you’re needed on the set.”

  Right. Work. He nodded and told Medina, “Take care of yourself and call me if Ashley can’t take you on.”

  Once she left he glanced at himself in the mirror. The contracts to work with Jennifer hadn’t ever mentioned hiring her staff as his own, so Medina would be easy for Pilar to fit into managing one of his properties.

  His hair was too short still and his facial hair had hardly grown.

  He’d never be Axel for this part. His brother had been clear right away that he loved his fiancée.

  Matt realized that Ashley deserved way better than him—he had to let her go, so he straightened his shirt and hustled down the hall.

  Once in the studio he headed toward his mark as the director called, “Places.”

  His entire body had pins and needles as he stood still and the lights turned on.

  Then Eva took the spot next to him and the lights went against her skin too, pale in contrast to her brown hair.

  All the equipment needed was their faces and bodies to have the sensors center the cameras on them later, but this part of the job, though dull, was better than how people had stood for hundreds of years for portraits.

  Eva smiled at him. “Standing still can be pretty boring.”

  He wasn’t standing by himself, which was good. Eva was going to play his love interest in the movie and they knew each other already from previous films. He stared at the cameras as required. “At least we can talk.”

  “True. How’s everything, Matt?” Eva pushed her hair behind her face as the director instructed.

  “Eva, you and Brandon seem happy.”

  Both of them had lights shining in their eyes but she smiled as if not bothered. “He’s the only man who ever got me.”

  And she was one of the few people in Hollywood actually happy when the cameras were off. He continued to stare at the cameras and lights as he asked, “How did you two meet?”

  She spoke stiffly, her smile forced for the camera. “In high school.”

  He squared his shoulders as the director motioned for him. “Got it. My brother ended up marrying the girl he loved in college.”

  Eva bounced in her step as she said, “That’s re
ally sweet.” The director left and they were both just staring ahead again at the bright lights when Eva said, “You and Ashley seemed to be getting along well. I saw the articles.”

  His heart froze and it seemed everyone could see right through him. “That’s over.”

  Matt’s body felt so empty that nothing would ever fill him.

  Eva didn’t even blink as she said, “She realized fast you don’t open your heart?”

  Jennifer’s comments hadn’t mattered because he used her flaws to block her observations. But Eva was a friend with no hidden motives for that comment. “You’re the second person to tell me that today.” Was it true? “I didn’t fall in love when I was young.”

  She shrugged but then turned to her side as she was directed. “Neither did I. Brandon was someone I avoided as an adult. I refused him when I was stupid and young and I ended up hurt pretty bad. Brandon offered me a second chance in movies because I fit the role, being pregnant.”

  Brandon and Eva were the only happy people he knew in the industry. “You won awards-”

  “Brandon and I fell in love,” she interrupted and refused to change topics as she continued, “Despite how I mistrusted him, and I almost ruined my own happiness because I was afraid.”

  “Of Brandon?” Their producer struck him as smart and had one of the most sound minds in the business.

  Eva shook her head. “No. Not of Brandon. Of being in love, and depending on someone else. I thought I was supposed to be alone because that’s the life I knew. Brandon showed me being in love and trusting the right person… well that’s worth everything.”

  And he’d done the opposite. He’d proven he was untrustworthy and not worthy of love.

  The director called out, “Cut. Let’s see how the scene might look now.”

  Good. That meant he was finished for the day blocking his scenes which meant he stood for the cameras and moved an arm or leg when asked for a few hours. He left his mark and headed toward the door. Ashley was gone. He’d never see her again, never taste or smell or touch her again. And it was exactly what he deserved.

  He marched through the studio and back to the lot for his motorcycle.

  But he’d been wrong about one thing. When he’d said, “this was all too fast” it was just more proof that he never knew himself. He’d ruined everything because he didn’t know how to feel, or deal with his own emotions because he was an emotional disaster.

  As he hopped onto his bike, he revved the engine and wished he could block out his thoughts as well as his scenes.

  Chapter 17

  The evening air wasn’t cold enough. Nothing stopped the house from reminding him of Ashley. Her ghost was in the kitchen, dancing to salsa music.

  His bed still smelled of her.

  The memory of her smile in the hall floated in the air.

  Matt paced from the kitchen to the living room.

  He hadn’t heard from his family since that night which only proved he’d made a mistake.

  He never should have called Anthony without discussing it with Ashley.

  That decision cost him not only peace of mind, but maybe even love.

  His phone rang suddenly and pulled Matt out of his reverie where he was now pacing like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. “Brandon, what’s going on?”

  “I’ve cancelled all filming for the next two weeks.”

  Matt’s muscles clenched. Two weeks of nothing to do? He’d go crazy wishing he hadn’t betrayed Ashley. “Why?”

  Brandon said, “Jennifer needs to recover from surgery and she won’t take the time off. I have the tech team getting the concert sequences all lined up for filming your big concert scenes at the beginning and end of the films. So once we’re filming again, be ready to move fast.”

  Now that measurements were done, the filming of the concerts would be the big moments. The smaller, more personal scenes were easier in a rom-com as they didn’t have to shoot on location. He leaned against the wall that was cold at his back. “Absolutely. Can I ask you something personal?”

  “What’s going on, Matt?”

  How do you tell a woman you love her? The question almost came out of his mouth but he stopped it in time.

  Wow. He stood. He loved Ashley. And in every movie and script, a man then had to go and admit his stupidity.

  A rush of energy coursed through him as he dashed up the stairs for his shirt and wallet. “Do you have pointers on how to apologize to a woman?”

  Brandon gave a snort and said, “Women love it when you say “I’m sorry.” It helps diffuse whatever you did wrong.”

  “That’s it?” Matt had reached the top step.

  “I tend to avoid screwing up my life these days.”

  Good plan for the future. Matt grabbed a pair of jeans from his room and dressed as he said, “I knew you were smart. Talk soon.”

  Once he hung up the phone, he pulled a gray t-shirt over his head, stuffing his wallet in his pocket. On his way out of his bedroom, he called his staff.

  This was when it was good to be a Morgan. Without hesitation, he called the pilot. “Fuel the jet.”

  Soon he’d be in Miami—flying this way would be faster than the commercial jet Ashley had taken.

  He hopped on his motorcycle and headed toward the private Beverly Hills airport where a Morgan jet was kept in a hangar.

  In a few hours, he’d have to put his heart on the line.

  He loved Ashley and he’d been stupid.

  If she hated him and couldn’t forgive him, well, then he deserved that.

  The jet’s passenger door was open. He parked his motorcycle in the hangar and climbed on board.

  Staff was already prepping for take-off and closed the door after him. He took a seat in his leather chair and called his sister. She answered on the second ring. He hoped she didn’t ask too many questions. “Elizabeth.”

  She sounded distracted when she said, “Matt, I wasn’t expecting your call. It’s late.”

  Ashley had been gone from his life for twenty-four hours now. He couldn’t wait another second as he said, “I won’t keep you then. I need Ashley’s address from when she lived in Miami.”

  “I’ll text it over,” she said with a yawn.

  It was probably after midnight on the East Coast.

  But his phone beeped a second later. “Thanks, sis. Night.”

  He knew where to start his search—he had a heart and it was time to prove it.

  If he didn’t tell Ashley he loved her, then he would never truly make a clean break with his past.

  He wasn’t the boy outside his banker/father’s office sitting on a chair too big for him as his legs never touched the floor, wishing for acceptance but never receiving it.

  Matt didn’t need to pretend to be someone else to feel.

  During the flight he was too keyed up to sleep. He kept imagining finding Ashley and falling to his knees.

  At least his father had given him everything he might need to follow through on his plans. The problem Matt always had was figuring out what he wanted to do as he had more money than most countries possessed.

  They landed in Miami, where he had a limo ready to pick him up. He gave the driver the address.

  They drove in the dark of night past neighborhoods with gas stations, pawn shops, and a strip club. His heart stopped.

  Ashley shouldn’t live here.

  Off the main street, the side streets were quieter, but his stomach tightened as the driver pulled before a small condo building.

  Seriously, this was Ashley’s home?

  His college-era condo near the school and the studio had been in a huge building, nothing like this three-level. He got out, and walked to the front entrance, intending to ring her floor.

  But the front door of the building was propped open. Where was security?

  Did he just go and knock?

  His heart raced that this might be dangerous, but he had to try.

  The driver spoke on his walkie-talkie, probably to Morg
an security, but Matt slipped in and headed toward her apartment number.

  Outside her door he straightened his spine, took a deep breath and knocked.

  No one answered.

  Maybe she was sleeping.

  He stepped back unsure what to do and then he heard the door unlock and it opened a crack. A chain kept her from opening it all the way. He remembered her saying that she knew self-defense. She probably needed to in this area.

  The beat of his heart grew but his eyes widened the moment he saw her.

  Her hair was wild, her eyes were sleepy, but she was the prettiest woman he’d ever seen, even in her pink cotton t-shirt that didn’t match the yellow shorts she had on. She hugged the door and met his gaze. “Matt, this isn’t the neighborhood for you.”

  Her first words were about him. He shivered. “This doesn’t look like Miami.” She just stared at him so he pointed past her and asked, “Can I come inside?”

  She sucked in her bottom lip and then nodded. “Not all of us live in mansions on the beach. My condo is for those of us who work, and just want peace and quiet when they come home.” She slid back the chain and let him inside.

  Yet it had zero security and this wasn’t anywhere he’d want to be. He pressed his lips together to suppress his inner snob as he said, “The brown carpets seem… dated.”

  She crossed her arms and asked, “What do you want?”

  To not insult her. To tell her he loved her. He quickly noted the boxes and suitcases lined up on the wall behind her. He stepped closer and hoped she opened up. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m still making that decision.” She didn’t lower her arms.

  He swallowed and wished he could go back in time and stop himself from being a fool.

  Matt glanced up at the wall and saw a map. He walked past her and pointed to it as he said, “Well, I see Hawaii, Texas and New York all have circles. Does that mean you want to go there?”

  Ashley lowered her hands. “They are possibilities.”

  Good, she was talking. He turned toward her and she smelled of the apricot soap she had the first time he’d met her. He lowered his head. “I’d like for you to consider California.”