Elle cleared her throat, fighting to regain her composure. “Turn to the marked page.”
“Fine.” Luke turned to the page marked with a Post-it note. His cheeks turned pale as he read. “What the hell? Elle, you must know this is bullshit. All of it.”
“No, I don’t. Either you’ve been lying to me for months, or you lied to me weeks ago about the showmance. So which is it?”
“Neither.” Luke’s chest rose and fell with labored breaths. He stepped closer to Elle once again, and she stepped back, walking to stand behind her desk. “I swear to you, Elle, I told her no. And the only time I’ve even seen her outside of work was that one night you already know about. This has nothing to do with me. Nothing.”
“Do you know how ridiculous this makes me feel? My God, Luke, I thought I was falling for you.”
Luke closed his eyes and shook his head, crossing his arms in front of him. “Don’t say that. Don’t talk about us in the past tense. We’re not over. This is just Gina having a tantrum, that’s all.”
“And why should I believe you? You’re an actor, and a really good one. How do I know you’re not playing me?”
“Because you know me. Think about this rationally, please. I didn’t do anything but fall in love with you. I want nothing to do with Gina and never have. Don’t throw us away because you bought a magazine.”
Luke attempted to join her on the other side of the desk, but she hustled to the other side of the room, her guard fully up.
“I didn’t buy it. It was waiting for me when I got in this morning.”
“Don’t you get it? She’s trying to mess with you . . . with me, with us. Gina left that for you, she wants you to get pissed off. She wants revenge.”
“That’s ridiculous. I’m her boss! And I have nothing to do with her and Nolan.”
“Whitney’s your best friend, and Whitney slept with Nolan. She wants revenge and she’ll drag us all down to get it.”
Luke’s argument made sense, and part of her wanted to believe him, to succumb to his reason. But she couldn’t risk it—she couldn’t risk being a pawn in their game.
“I can’t listen to this. I have to go.” Elle grabbed the magazine and stormed from the office, pushing the door to the side as she charged toward the hallway leading to the soundstage and dressing rooms.
“The table read starts in half an hour,” Luke called out after her, but she blocked him from her mind. She’d had enough of Gina’s horrible behavior and was ready to confront her, no matter the cost. She could hear Luke’s footsteps behind her, but she didn’t care. She could confront them together and end this once and for all.
Gina, dressed in a low-cut blouse and miniskirt, greeted Elle with a bright smile, a smile Elle hadn’t seen from the actress in months.
“Good morning, Elle. How are you on this fine day?”
“Shut your mouth.” Elle’s nostrils flared as she stood before the actress, holding the magazine in front of her. “Care to explain this?”
The corner of Gina’s lips curved up in satisfaction. “I don’t understand. Did you not like my interview? It’s great publicity for the show.”
“Cut the bullshit, Gina. You left this on my desk.”
“Um, no. I just got in, so I have no idea how you got your copy. But I also have nothing to hide. Luke and I agreed to do this to promote the show. Geez, if anything you should be happy.”
“Love after heartbreak, huh?” Elle was seething as she glared at the actress.
“I know, right? What a great title. I bet it’ll sell millions of copies.” Gina placed her hands on her hips, a pompous smile still perched on her face. “Look, I’m sorry you had to find out this way, but I’d assumed you knew. I thought Luke gave you a heads-up. Anyway, just know we’ll have to do some photo ops, and should probably go to the Globes together.”
Elle’s lip curled in anger as she contemplated a response.
“Are you deranged?” Luke snapped from behind Elle. “I’m not doing that!”
Gina scrunched her lips together and tilted her head to the side before walking to Luke’s side, placing her hands on his arm. “Luke, seriously, you don’t have to pretend anymore. It’s all out in the open.”
Luke pulled away from Gina, focusing on Elle. “She’s lying, Elle. You have to believe me. This is all some sick, twisted game. I never agreed to this.”
“Oh, please.” Gina sneered, her fake smile erased from her face. “You could have told her. God knows you had plenty of opportunities. I gave this interview weeks ago. Don’t blame me because you’re a chickenshit.”
“What are you talking about? I told my agent I wasn’t interested in pretending with you. But you did it anyway! You’re sick, you know that?” Luke’s cheeks were scarlet and his chest was heaving up and down as he snarled at the actress.
“I’m not taking the fall so you can keep nailing the boss, Luke. Tell the truth.”
“You’re such a bitch,” Elle snapped, offended by the insinuation. But what if it was true?
Luke pulled on the ends of his wavy hair. “Oh my God! You are deranged!”
Gina shook her head and flipped her dark hair behind her shoulder. “And what about you? You knew how this would play out, that poor Elle would be humiliated, but you went along with it anyway. You’re breaking this poor woman’s heart for the chance to be an A-lister. The least you could have done was tell her before it went to press.”
Elle had no idea who to believe. Yes, Luke seemed enraged and confused, but perhaps he was just backpedaling, trying to figure out a way to cover up his scheme with his costar, trying to save his career. She tossed the magazine to the side, smoothed down her skirt and blouse, and regained her composure.
“Table read in less than thirty. I’ll see you there.”
“Elle, wait, please.” Luke grabbed her arm, but she brushed him off, pulling her arm away from his grasp. “Don’t go. I had nothing to do with this, I swear to you. Let’s go back to your office, let’s figure this out. I’ll call my agent, I’ll do anything. Just . . . you have to believe me.”
Elle shrugged, her voice cracking. “I’m sure your Twitter followers will double by this afternoon. And more movie roles will follow. Not indie films, but the big stuff. That’s what you’ve always wanted, right?”
“Elle, stop.”
“See you in the conference room.”
Elle slammed the door behind her, ran to her office, and locked the door behind her. She slumped into her leather chair and sobbed. Moments later, Luke knocked on the door.
“Please, think this through before you throw us away. I can’t lose you, Elle, please.”
“Go away. Please, just . . . let it be.”
“You can’t believe her, Elle, please. It’s not true. I’ve never lied to you. Not once. And I never will.”
Elle felt herself caving. She stood, tempted to allow him to enter her office. But she knew what would happen if she did. She’d succumb to his charms, she’d believe everything he said simply because she wanted to believe in him, in his goodness. She wanted to believe this wonderful, sexy man was exactly who he claimed to be. But her time spent in Hollywood had left her jaded. And she needed to put him to the test.
“If you don’t leave, I’ll call the police and they’ll escort you out. And then I’ll call the papers. Trust me, those aren’t the headlines you want.”
Elle waited with bated breath for him to call her bluff, to insist he’d gladly go to jail if it would prove his love and devotion to her. But when the other side of the door grew silent, she knew it. He left.
Everything suddenly became clear. Months ago, she’d suspected Luke was using her for his career, and now it felt as if every fear she had was confirmed. He didn’t care about her. Not really, not enough. What he really cared about was fame, fortune, and headlines. No matter his proclamations of love, or visions of a future together. And she hated herself for buying into the fantasy. For allowing the images of them together, swollen belly, diamond r
ing, and lazy days on a hammock to travel from her mind to her heart. He was a gifted actor and nothing more. Nothing more.
Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack.” Saul Greenberg, the president of the network, was smiling wide, leaning back in his chair.
Elle’s leg bobbed up and down as she pondered his offer to create a new show for prime time.
“I’m thrilled, just thrilled at how you’re running things down there. The viewers love it—our ratings have never been better. A time slot is opening up next fall. And I want you to present three pitches for a new drama to debut right after Follow the Sun.”
“I can’t believe this. How—how will I balance both shows?” Elle’s arms, shoulders, even face were tense.
“You’ll figure it out. There will be a significant salary bump, of course. And bonuses. This is a big deal, Ms. Riley. We don’t do this for just anyone. You’re a star—three Golden Globe nods. And number one in the Nielsens.”
“What kind of show are you looking for, sir? Law? Medical? Something totally different?” Her mind was swirling, yet empty.
Saul cracked a smile and Elle wondered if he could sense her state of total panic. “We’re open to whatever you can bring to the table. We’ll start filming this summer. You’ll need to hand over more of the writing to your staff, so you can balance both shows. Do you think you can do that?”
“I’m sure that can be arranged.”
Saul chuckled.
Elle tipped her head to the side. “Sir?”
“Letting go of control is . . . well, it’s not your strong suit.”
“I promise to work on it.”
“That’s good enough for me.” Saul rose from his seat. “Can you have those ideas to me by Friday?”
That’s two days from now! Elle screamed inside her head. She inhaled deeply, knowing she’d figure out a way, and composed herself before rising to her feet to shake Saul’s hand.
“Sure, I can do that.” Elle reeled in her nerves, giving Saul her best confident smile. “Thank you for this opportunity, sir.”
Elle left Saul’s office and walked down to the parking lot, entering her car before whooping with glee and slapping her steering wheel with exuberance. She couldn’t believe it. In several months, she could be the writer and show runner of not one, but two shows in prime time. The feeling was exhilarating.
The only problem was her empty brain.
No ideas, not one. She needed Rob. As much as his sage-like behavior sometimes annoyed her, he had definite skill when it came to coaxing the creativity from Elle when her nerves were shot. Quickly, she sent him a text informing him of her discussion and requesting a brief meeting in her office.
She returned to the studio lot and made her way to her office. Rob was waiting for her when she arrived.
“How excited are you?” Rob asked.
“I’m freaking out, Rob!” Elle paced her office. Her hands trembled and her mind remained blank.
“C’mon, you’re a creative person. I’m sure you have plenty of ideas in that head of yours.”
It was true most of the time. Elle’s mind did wander at times, and she dreamed up new ideas. Fresh and exciting ideas that had nothing to do with her past. She needed to somehow tap into that now. The opportunity to create something completely from scratch was beyond exciting. It was the opportunity of her career.
“Thank goodness we’re done filming this week. I can focus without Gina flaunting her showmance in my face.”
“I really wish we could get rid of her.”
Elle jerked her head back in shock. She didn’t realize Rob shared her feelings of disgust when it came to their leading lady.
“Oh, c’mon,” he continued. “We both know she’s a shit.”
Elle sat up straight in her chair. “I have a newfound respect for you.”
“Listen, I have to go. Get those creative juices flowing. Get Whitney in here, she’ll help you.”
“Uh,” Elle fumbled. “We’re not in the best place.”
“Oh, good Lord. I could never be a woman. I swear, there’s always something.”
“Guilty as charged.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Rob stood and walked to the door, turning once his hand was on the knob. “And Elle?”
“Yeah.”
“Congratulations. I’m really proud of you.”
“Thanks, Rob. That means a lot to me, seriously.”
Rob gave her a quick wave before leaving her alone with her chaotic thoughts. She wanted to call Whitney . . . and Luke. But even though she reached for her phone, she placed it down on her desk, swarmed with conflicting thoughts. She and Luke hadn’t spoken in a personal manner since she threatened to call the police and tabloids. And Whitney was MIA ever since their uncomfortable evening at the French bistro. She knew they would both be excited for her, but her feelings of excitement were overshadowed by the awkward state of each relationship. So instead she focused on what she could: the work. She needed three ideas.
A new show.
A new show.
A new show.
She was drawing a blank.
Whenever Elle was stuck, she did one of two things. First, she called Whitney for a brainstorm session over candy and/or cocktails. And if, like today, that wasn’t an option, she retrieved her journal from the bottom drawer of her desk. Below her candy stash, a simple leather-bound book with a painted picture of an old-school typewriter and her initials sat for moments like this. She pulled the journal from her drawer, dusted off the cover, and scanned through her book ideas—ideas from long ago when she was starting her writing career.
When she opened the journal to the first page, her phone pinged with a text.
Elle glanced down at her phone. She couldn’t take her eyes off the brief message from Troy. A proper response eluded her, and yet she knew it was necessary to respond sooner rather than later.
Are you avoiding me?
She and Troy hadn’t spoken since their date at MacArthur Park two weeks earlier. Was she avoiding him? Not intentionally. Work was hectic, her relationship with Luke was at an impasse, and Gina was a royal pain in her ass. Not to mention she and Whitney were barely speaking. She was a mess, and adding Troy into the mix was an overwhelming thought. And, if she was being honest with herself, discovering that Amanda was Payton’s mother was not helping things for her. Not at all.
No. Just really busy.
She stared at the screen, not wanting to be too dismissive in her reply. She wanted to see Troy. She wanted to spend more time with him—she was just lost. Truly lost, and she knew she had no idea what she wanted. It didn’t seem fair to drag him into those mixed emotions, knowing he had mixed feelings of his own.
Did I just get the brush-off?
Never one to shy away from a confrontation, Troy was calling her out as usual.
Of course not. Dinner tonight?
The next reply came back so quickly she didn’t even have time to place the phone back on her desk. The quick ping of her cell made her lips curl into a smile. Troy was eager to see her, eager to communicate. She liked that.
That can be arranged. 7:00? Chinese?
Elle pinched her lips together, remembering she needed to work on the pitch. This was too important to postpone. Her schedule the following day was packed with meetings, one in particular with the network stylist who was dressing everyone for the Globes. The show was in just two short weeks and everyone needed his or her attire. Arranging for sample gowns and tuxedos would take some time, and it was time to begin the process.
I just realized I need to work late. Any chance you can come here?
Elle clenched her teeth, worried Troy would again feel brushed off. When her cell pinged quickly, she breathed a sigh of relief.
I’ll bring food. Kung pao still your favorite?
Elle smiled, flattered he remembered.
With fried rice, please!
You got it. See you in a couple hours.
Elle se
ttled in, opened her notebook, and dove into her ideas of the past, hoping to find something for her future.
Elle smelled the delicious aroma of the food before she saw her dinner date. Troy knocked on her office door before entering. Elle was taken aback at how handsome he looked after a long day in a hot pizza kitchen. As usual, he was wearing a polo shirt from the restaurant with khaki pants and sunglasses. There was something sexy in Troy’s simplicity. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. But his olive skin had deepened into a sumptuous tan, while natural highlights permeated his dark hair. When he removed his sunglasses, Elle peered into the gorgeous eyes she had missed for so long. When he saw her, he grinned, a dimple forming in his cheek.
Elle walked around the desk to greet him with a hug. He pulled her tight, wrapping his strong arms around her. Elle wasn’t short. In fact, being five feet ten, she was much taller than most of the women at the network. But Troy towered over her at six feet four, and she enjoyed the safety of his hugs. She loved that the top of her head nestled into his neck. She smelled oregano as he pulled her close. She was convinced Troy was the only man who could make Italian spices smell sexy.
“I’ve missed you,” she murmured into his chest, and she felt his arms pull her in just a bit tighter. It was a silent message received with no distortion. He missed her too. “I’m sorry you had to come down here, but I do have exciting news.”
Troy pulled back, locking eyes with Elle. “Oh yeah? Tell me.”
“Have a seat and I’ll fill you in.”
Elle walked to her desk chair and sat. Troy sat down as well, a warm smile on his face. Elle’s stomach fluttered as she revealed her exciting news. “The network wants me to create another show. They’d air back-to-back starting next fall. It’s an extraordinary opportunity.”
“Wow. That’s incredible, Rigby. What’s the show about?”
“That’s the problem. I have no idea. They need three ideas . . . by Friday.”
“Whoa, that’s . . . well, that’s not much time, is it?” Troy grimaced. “Now I see why you couldn’t go out.”
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