Maid For The Hollywood Heartthrob: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 200)

by Flora Ferrari

  Walking out, I can see he’s made a tray of fresh percolated coffee and even toasted some croissants.

  He sheepishly explains he’s hungry, and that we can order up anything I want.

  “Ashlee? What is it, what’s wrong?” he asks, setting the tray down and reaching me in three strides of his step, holding me by my elbows.

  “Who’s Bridgette?” I hear myself spit out, then feel my lower lip trembling, thinking about my mother, my whole life and bursting into tears like a little girl.

  Feeling like a spoiled, stupid little girl.

  His face is a puzzle for a moment, then it registers, and he glances from his desk back to my eyes.

  Not a hint of guilt in his eyes, only concern.

  “Oooh, darling, Bridgette is the receptionist at the agency. I called them yesterday to get your number. I was so sick not knowing how to contact you. Max, my attorney, he’s been nagging me to send her an autograph like she asked for ever since,” he says, all in one perfect stream of truth.

  No word of a lie.

  “I’ll tear it up right now if it makes you feel better,” he offers, but I shake my head, feeling more foolish than anything.

  “I… I’m, sorry, Tony… I just, it’s just… My mother called me just now, and after seeing that picture,” I stammer, hurling myself into his chest, covering my eyes with my hands.

  His firm grip is on me, followed closely by his lips on mine.

  Not something out of a movie, this is real life. Real passion, and the man has plenty of it and all for me.

  “Now you listen here, Ashlee,” he says in his commanding tone. “I said I love you and I mean it, dammit! And when Tony Fontana says he loves a woman it’s forever, nobody else comes into it… not even close… understand!”

  He loosens his grip a little but it’s his words that hold me firm. I feel stupid for doubting him so many times in one day, but at the same time I just can’t fathom what the man sees in me.

  “Now, I was gonna send that photo along as thanks for her help. That’s all. I’ve only spoken to her on the phone for less than a minute, compare that to what we have… what I want for-”

  But he stops himself before continuing.

  “What I really want for you, for both of us… It’s just a silly autograph, but also a sincere note of thanks, for bringing you here… to me,” he adds, holding his ground, defending his actions and making me feel like a flower losing all its petals in the wind.

  “Oh, Tony,” I sigh, clutching him tighter, feeling relief when he shushes me, and runs his hands down my back.

  “What did your mother have to say?” he asks softly, after I’ve calmed down some.

  “She left a message but I haven’t checked it,” I tell him.

  “Then don’t,” he advises. “I’m through with fighting, worrying and playing second fiddle to someone else’s tune. Let’s just get outta here, Ashlee… just you and me, huh?”

  I love the idea, I know he does too, but his eyes and my own mind quickly tell us both a different story.

  We both have things we still have to deal with.

  He has his career and I have my foster mom.

  “Where would we go?” I ask halfheartedly, wishing I knew the answer.

  His phone ringing, like the photo, reminds me of the whole world and not just me who wants a slice of Tony Fontana.

  He holds me for a second, kissing my forehead before he takes his call.

  “I’ll fix this,” he promises me, and I feel something shift inside me again, believing that if anyone can fix this, it’s Tony Fontana.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Tony

  Like any good professional on top of their game, the producer of my latest movie, Marcel is as much in my face as my attorney when it comes to reminding me of my legal obligations.

  My contractual responsibilities as a contracted actor.

  I want to groan out loud, to tell him to fuck off, but looking over at Ashlee, seeing her worrying over her own problems, I remind myself I’ve vowed to protect her.

  That means financially too. I mean to look after Ashlee, for better or for worse. Even though I haven’t said so in as many words, not yet.

  Marcel wants me on the next flight, in three hours, straight to Paris and an hour after I land he’ll have a camera rolling, so he wants me ready.

  Staring at Ashlee, seeing the way the morning light catching her hair, her smooth skin…

  I have it.

  “Marcel, about that scene… about the whole third act really…” I start to say, not even minding when he groans and starts swearing in French.

  “Don’t do this, Tony!” he exclaims. “Actors always want to fuck around the formula. Just get here and shoot the fucking scenes,” he whines, and I can hear him drawing hard on one of his long brown, foreign cigarettes before he exhales noisily.

  “Marcel,” I reason with him. “I have a new leading lady in mind, someone I just met, she’s an actress,” I try to tell him, but he cuts me off.

  “You’ll be on the plane, you’ll do the scenes and you’ll get paid. That’s your job, Tony… fuck! What’s gotten into you? You never used to mess us around, now in one day you’ve become a prima donna,” he exclaims again.

  Flipping him to speaker while I switch to my phone’s camera, I snap a picture of Ashlee; a perfect photo with her looking out onto the view of Hollywood, the lighting, everything just perfect.

  “Are you still there?” Marcel asks angrily once I have him back in my ear once I hit send, shooting him a thousand words of Ashlee.

  “Yeah, I’m here. Marcel, take it easy. I’m thinking of the whole project here, not just my part in it.”

  “The fuck’s this?” he asks gruffly after a few seconds once I hear his phone pinging.

  “That’s Ashlee. She’s the one-”

  His dry laugh turns into a cough, then reverts back to a horrible sounding laugh.

  “Ah! Good one Tony! You nearly had me there. I thought for a minute you were serious… your American humor, no?”

  But I’m not joking.

  “What did you just say?” I hear myself growl, my voice turning to gravel as I watch Ashlee’s face turn to mine, her eyes filling with concern again.

  “I thought you honestly wanted me to consider… never mind, where do you get these pictures from Tony, internet? It’s almost disgusting… just get here soon eh? I need you on set tomorrow morning, our time.”

  And then it happens.

  I have the clearest, most sobering realization of my entire career. Of my entire life.

  The industry I’ve sold myself to for over twenty years, it’s shown its true colors to me as if for the first time.

  I can handle criticism, put-downs and even scandal when it comes to me, but my Ashlee?

  No.

  It ends today.

  “Listen to me you French fried fuck!” I spit. “Ashlee is worth a hundred of me. Either she gets a scene in this movie or I walk, contract be damned… and I’ll sue you for slander and discrimination faster than you can whistle ‘breach of contract’ you snail sucking piece of shit.”

  The line goes quiet, but I know he hasn’t hung up, I do some math in my mind, kissing my retirement fund goodbye with the caseload Max is gonna have on his hands next.

  Marcel takes a deep breath in.

  “Okay, okay,” he drawls. “You Americans, always with your demands.”

  I relax a little, my heart lifting as I picture Ashlee by my side at work as well as at play, at home afterwards. The awards I can shower on her myself.

  “Now hear this,” Marcel continues, his own voice dropping low, sounding cold.

  “I have three major European and American studios behind me, billions, Tony… billions of Euros and dollars to fight you and win… You wanna fuck with that? Be my guest. I’ll see you in court you motherfucker, and if we need some fat girl to get stuffed in one of our films, we have a continent full of them too.”

  My phone creaks in my han
d, and I hear Ashlee asking me if I’m okay.

  I hold a flat hand up to her, smiling. Glad she’s here. I want her to be here when I do this. It’s about us now, nothing else matters.

  Holding the phone to my chest with my hand over the microphone of the cell phone, I ask her. I have to.

  “Will you still have me, even if I have nothing? If I’m dirt poor and not a movie star?”

  She doesn’t even flinch. “Of course Tony, I love you,” she tells me, looking concerned for me now, forgetting her own bag of problems.

  That’s how I know she’s the one.

  That’s how I know I can never lose.

  I’ve already got everything I need, all the riches in the world, in this very room, right in front of me.

  I give Marcel my ultimatum. “Ashlee has her passport and we can be on that flight, but if she’s not even considered for a part in this project, then I can’t continue with mine in it either. She’s a part of me now, Marcel and I’m giving you a chance to understand that,” I tell him, calmly but firmly. Not caring what happens next, half thinking about what Ashlee might want to spend the rest of the day doing instead.

  “Then you’re mad! I won’t fire you either if that’s what you want, this is a breach of contract!” Marcel screams, and before he has a chance to hurt my ears anymore, I hang up.

  Ashlee, wringing her hands, wants to cross the room, to hold me, to ask me what’s going on but I hold up a finger while I dial Max back.

  He can have it. Let him have it all.

  He picks up just before the phone stops ringing, and I give him the brief of my next legal challenge: Breaking movie contract over terms, libel and discrimination.

  Max breathes through his nose before replying, and I move over to Ashlee, hugging her with one arm to let her know she doesn’t have to worry.

  “It’ll take some doing, but not too much for me personally. International law, multi-continental contracts… this could go on for years, Tony,” he muses.

  “I don’t care, Max. I want-” But even Max cuts me off.

  “You want everything your own way, Tony. I understand that much, but I’ll help you. Don’t worry,” he says slowly, and I almost detect a giggle at the end of his sentence.

  “What do I do now then?” I ask him.

  “Nothing,” he says blandly. “Enjoy the day, your life. You’ve got the girl, and just like one of your movies, you should ride off into the sunset with her. You have plenty of money, don’t you?”

  He asks, making me reconsider the whole legal position.

  “I do… I mean, I did, your fees… the court cases…” I wonder aloud.

  “Oh, Tony! How could you even think that?” he exclaims. “You should know by now, after all these years, that I do a certain amount of pro bono work per year, have to, some legally binding contract of my own.”

  “What about the paparazzi cases, the business with Ashlee’s mother?” I ask, feeling lighter by the second.

  “Call it… an engagement present,” he guffaws. “You have asked her, haven’t you?” he asks, trying his best to sound like he’s scolding me.

  “No. No I haven’t,” I realize aloud.

  “Then do it, and for god’s sake, send me my car and that poor secretary her autograph, will you? I’m a busy man!”

  He hangs up so fast, leaving the room silent with only Ashlee and me in it like a breath of fresh air.

  “What happened?” Ashlee asks. “What’s going on? Tell me!” she squeaks nervously.

  “How would you like to be an unemployed actress… dating the most famous unemployed actor in this week’s headlines?” I ask her, watching as her face counts off the idea in her mind.

  “I’d like that of all things!” she says finally in her best Shakespeare play voice, and I hold her so tight I feel the air squeezing out of her until I kiss her again, hearing her taking it all back in.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Ashlee

  “You really don’t mind?” he asks me.

  And I shake my head without thinking about it. Without needing to think about it.

  I only know I’m his and now he’s mine. Everything else is just playing catch up.

  “But, what’s happened,” I have to ask, worried I might be the cause of more problems than he already had.

  “It’s nothing baby, but it looks like my attorney is gonna have his work cut out for him. I just broke my movie contract, and I’m pretty sure he wants to go after all those photographers too,” he adds.

  “But I thought…?” I start to ask, meaning I thought he wanted to sue them all, even my mom.

  But Tony only shakes his head, smiling as he hooks his hands behind my waist and pulls me towards him.

  “I thought a lot of things yesterday… before you, Ashlee, before us,” he says. “Max Schubert, attorney at law, can do whatever he wants. Right now, today, all I want is my girl on my arm and the sun on our faces,” he says, sounding like something from one of his movies, and for my benefit, I know.

  But I don’t care, it’s exactly how I feel.

  “What about my mom?” I hear myself asking, not wanting to even go there when it comes to the legal stuff, but needing to know what will happen next. I can let her go for now, maybe one day we can speak again, once she accepts who I am and how I feel about Tony.

  “I can let Max know to ease off when it comes to her if you want. He runs his cases his own way, but I don’t mind at all if Stacy gets left out of the whole thing,” he says.

  “Even though she started the whole thing?” I add.

  Tony smiles, kissing me again and drawing me closer, whispering into my ear.

  “Your foster mom brought you to me, I owe her everything, really… don’t I?” he asks, and we both laugh softly before we kiss again.

  As much as my mom can be a pain in the ass, she did bring us together, and her own plans to bring Tony down will never work, not with his legal team and his attitude of live and let live, not with his own special power. I just know it.

  “You’re not just for show, are you Tony Fontana?” I ask him, looking up, admiring him for more than his good looks.

  “Nor are you, Ashlee,” he reminds me, kissing me tenderly again before he suddenly realizes he wants to ask me something.

  “Say? You didn’t happen to bring your passport when you got your bag of tricks, did you?” he asks with that mischievous twinkle in his eye.

  I tell him immediately, I have my passport, and all the money I’ve saved since I was seven, making him get a little emotional again as he kisses me harder.

  “How much have you saved?” he asks, and I know it’s only curiosity, but I want to pay my own way too.

  “About four thousand dollars,” I mumble, suddenly remembering I’m talking to a millionaire.

  His smile shines like his eyes.

  He’s proud of me, he’s not comparing bank balances.

  “I love you Ashlee. I really do. How do you feel about coming to Paris with me? I think it might be best given the legal storm brewing, all the upcoming publicity. I have most of my assets there anyway,” he murmurs, looking at me with hopeful, expectant eyes.

  “Paris!” I exclaim, feeling like a princess already.

  “How will we get there? When will we-” I try to add, but his mouth is on mine again, his hands on my body and his firm tone in my ear soon enough, telling me not to worry about details.

  “Just say yes,” he tells me, and I hesitate for a moment more.

  “You mean about Paris?” I ask, cocking my brow.

  “About Paris,” he confirms, and I push down the feeling, the wanting for him to ask me something else… for now.

  “I can still wangle the jet from the studio, I know the pilot,” he tells me. “Plus, I have my passport right here. We can pick up anything we need once we get there but I have an apartment there, what D’ya say?” he asks me again, with so much enthusiasm I’m almost scared I won’t be able to keep up.

  I’ve never been ou
t of the state, let alone out of the country. I only got my passport because of the agency, one of their requirements.

  I take a minute to think, and Tony lets me go, watching me as I go to the window and take in the view again. He won’t pressure me, I know, he’s giving me all the time I need.

  He turns to go to the kitchen again, to make some more coffee I imagine, maybe order some more food, but I already know what I want.

  “Tony?” I ask, a tremor in my voice as he spins to catch my gaze. “Don’t think I wouldn’t… don’t think I won’t… not for a second.” I tell him, and he rushes to catch me in his arms as I hurl myself at him.

  “I only want this,” I tell him. “I only want you, anytime, anywhere.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Tony

  I hold her, but like every other time, it’s never for long enough. I want to be fused to her somehow, so we can be conjoined forever.

  The door chimes and I know it's the hotel stationary, plus some breakfast, if they know me any better which I’m happy to see they do.

  I tell the concierge to drop Max’s car back, that we’ll be leaving for the airport after breakfast, and if he wouldn’t mind putting a call through to the pilot to have him call me.

  “Oh!” I add, holding him back just a minute longer, using the stationary to address and stamp the autographed photo before handing it to him, asking him to post it.

  Ashlee looks at me in awe.

  “They treat me like a bratty teenager here, but put up with me,” I remark, smiling at the concierge.

  “The service is excellent, more like family,” I tell her, closing the door and making my way back to her before I think about anything else.

  My luggage is my passport, phone and credit card. Ashlee has her bag and within a few hours, we’re zooming over the Atlantic, headed for Paris.

  “We should make it in time for dinner,” I tell her, watching her look out the window of the plane, glancing over to me only to open her eyes wider with excitement before looking out again.

  She hasn’t stopped smiling since we left the hotel.

  Let’s see if we can’t keep her smiling forever. That sounds like a plan.