The Italian Heartthrob: Forbidden Standalone

by N J Adel

  My laughter filled the trailer. “If I make it to the ceremony this time, I’m already a winner.”

  “I’ll make sure you do.” His voice lowered, his face determined.

  Unsure where this conversation was going, I just smiled. “Thanks.”

  “And just to be sure, we should go together.”

  I, without losing the smile, looked into Jim’s blue eyes, piercing beyond the mask shielding them. “If we do that, I think the other rumors will no longer be rumors.”

  “What if…” His broad chest puffed out as he inhaled. “What if they are no longer rumors?”

  I leaned back in my chair, groping for the right words to say. “Well, Dad will be very happy.”

  His perfect teeth flashed at me. “Maggie, I know I told you I was only looking for your friendship, and that was never a lie.”

  “But?”

  He swallowed. “Can I have some water, please?”

  “Sure.” I went to the minibar behind me and grabbed a bottle. When I turned, he was standing before me. We were no more than an inch apart, and it made me gasp for breath. He was hot. Scorching hot.

  His eyes sparked. “Some things sort of happen. You can never control them.” His gaze dipped to my lips. “I haven’t planned for this. I mean, I know I should have run the second I felt something different for you. The second I stood fully naked in front of your camera and all I thought about was whether you liked what you saw or not. The second I hoped you would. ”

  My eyes traced the lines of his defined lips. “But you didn’t run.”

  “I couldn’t,” he whispered.

  “Jim…” Suddenly, the spark turned into a flare, and I felt his lips on mine. My eyes closed. My words swallowed. He tasted so fucking sweet. Too sweet like him.

  No. Sorry, Daddy. I’d ruin him, destroy him with my darkness. Pull away. Pull away. I opened my eyes, drawing back.

  His breaths trembled on my lips. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

  “Jim, I can’t do this.”

  His fingertips caressed my temple. “Tell me this kiss made you feel nothing, and I’ll never bother you again.”

  “I can’t say that.” My tongue licked my lips. “But I’m not right for you.”

  “Would you let me be the judge of that?” His hands were on my waist now. His eyes held me in place. “Please.”

  Both of my hands were on his chest, unconsciously. His shirt was unbuttoned to his stomach, and I wanted to see the rest of him. The day he stood fully naked in front of my camera, I did like what I saw. A lot. “Shit.”

  He blinked, confused. “Shit?”

  I laughed under my breath. “I swear a lot.”

  He smiled, leaning in. “I’m aware.”

  I felt my skin flush. “I’m dark and twisted.”

  “Again, I’m aware.” His face moved closer to mine.

  “I’m not over him.” The pitch of my voice went higher. “I might never be.”

  He frowned as he stopped moving. “How will you know for sure if you don’t try? If you don’t give yourself a chance to move on?” His hand smoothed my hair. “Give me a chance, Maggie. It’s all I’m asking for.”

  Our lips met again. This time he didn’t taste sweet. He tasted like fire.

  Fuck. “No!” I pushed him back.

  He stared at me, taken aback.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t have another Kyle.” I rolled my shoulders, trying to ease the tight band of tension there. “I can’t use you or depend on you to get over Mike. You don’t wanna be my rebound, Jim. If I ever get over him, I have to do it on my own. Only then, we might have a chance for something real.”

  He bowed his head, uncomfortable silence falling between us.

  “But I can really use your friendship.” My eyes burned with tears. “It’s what I need right now.”

  He nodded. “It’s my honor, Maggie. But with your permission, I’d like to stay hopeful we can be something more than that.”

  I hugged him. “Hope is good. I can use some of that, too.”

  Scene 90

  Maggie

  SEVEN MONTHS LATER

  OSCARS NIGHT

  The dreary sky of the afternoon had cleared, and the beautiful night was a few minutes away when the limo stopped in front of the Dolby Theatre. Jim climbed out first, fastening the button of his tuxedo jacket as he stood. Then I ambled out of the car.

  I took his arm as our names were called from several directions, the pop and flash of cameras erupting, illuminating our skins.

  “Maggie, this way!”

  “Jim, quick! Over here!”

  “Who are you wearing?”

  “Are you here tonight as a couple?”

  Jim and I smiled and posed for pictures, and then waved as we made our way on the red carpet.

  He bent his head to my ear. “You’re good?”

  “More than good. This is fabulous. Too loud but fabulous.”

  He posed for more pictures. “You’re fabulous. You look like a fairytale.”

  My cheeks warmed. “Thank you. You look great, too.”

  We took a few steps forward, and it was time for individual interviews.

  “This is where we briefly part,” he said. “Are you going to be all right?”

  “Yeah. Go do your thing. It’s your day, Jim.”

  “Mine and yours.” He smiled. “Wait for you by the stairs.” He stepped over for his first interview of the night.

  “Maggie, how do you feel about being here for the first time?” A microphone was shoved in my face.

  I grinned at the brunette in a black dress. “It’s amazing. Makes me feel very stupid for missing it last year.”

  “We’re all glad you’re here. You look stunning. Who are you wearing tonight?” the interviewer’s eyes raked me from head to toe. The soft waves of my chin-length hair. The dramatic, retro makeup with dark red lipstick. The bare shoulders. The long-sleeved, A-line black gown, bodice embroidered with silver thread, regal velvet fitted to my waistline, black satin skirt with a pattern of intertwined hues of red, blue and gray, and a slit that reached up to the middle of my thigh. The cherry blossom bracelet. The black, suede wedge heels with three straps up to the ankle.

  “Amira Vinito. She’s a new designer. Very talented. Made this especially for me to wear last year, but I disappointed her. I decided to wear it this year to make it up to her.”

  “I think she’ll be more than grateful now. When you look like this, everybody is going to want to wear her gowns.”

  “Thank you.”

  I moved from one interview to another, treated almost like I was on my way to a coronation. More comments on the dress and the look. Someone said I looked like Ida Lupino, a powerful, hot actress and director in the forties.

  “Do you think you’ll win this year?”

  “We’ll find out in a couple of hours,” I replied.

  “There’s a theory going around that a director can’t win unless she looks like she’s filled with angst and suffering and pain, and you look very cheerful.”

  “Well, I don’t think Lucindo was filled with more angst and suffering and pain than I was last year, and he still won.” I laughed, proud of my ability to make jokes about my past calamity. The ability to laugh at the jokes, too. The certainty I had moved on.

  “How do you feel about Mike Gennaro presenting Best Director?”

  Moved on and became strong enough to accept the past as it was. “Makes me want to win even more this year.”

  Scene 91

  Maggie

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Academy Award winner Mike Gennaro.”

  The lights changed in the theatre along with the screens on the stage as Mike emerged in a dashing white tux. I clapped with the audience, mesmerized by being the closest to him I’d been in almost a year. At this moment, I was supposed to think of nothing but the anticipated award, yet as I stared into Mike’s eyes, all my thoughts revolved around him and him alone.

  J
im held my hand, and I glanced at him. He was smiling, yet his eyes were anxious. “Are you excited?” he asked, a thousand other questions on his face.

  I looked back at the stage. At Mike. “Very.”

  Mike cleared his throat, holding an envelope—the envelope—with both hands. “Since 1929— the year of the very first Academy Award ceremony—only one woman has ever won the Academy Award for Best Directing. Tonight, this could change.” He paused while the audience clapped again.

  I smiled as people looked in my direction, and Jim squeezed my hand.

  “Here are the nominees for Best Directing.”

  A clip played on the big screen above Mike. DIRECTING appeared in all caps next to a statuette. Prerecorded clips of a star from each movie saying a few words played while Mike announced the names of each nominee and their movies before each clip.

  For Dark Hopes, Jim was the one talking on the screen.

  “She likes to create these worlds that let us see the other side of things. Because according to her, everything is not what it seems. She sees beyond the hero and beyond the villain. For instance, she takes the best looking guys and turns them into dark and twisted characters to bring that side of the villain we don’t notice or don’t want to notice. The best part is that she brings it out not only for us to see, but to love, too. That’s the brilliance of Maggie Dawson.”

  I gazed at Jim, mouthing “Wow. Thank you.”

  There was another round of applause, and Mike opened the envelope without looking. “And the winner is…” He stared at the envelope for a moment or two. Then his eyes lifted from it. Glittery eyes that focused only on mine. “Maggie Dawson.”

  My heart skipped a beat as the theater erupted in applause. In awe, I stared at Jim, who was on his feet clapping frantically, grinning from ear to ear. I swore and heard Jim’s laughter as I did. Then I was on my feet, too, hugging and kissing him. He was saying all kinds of endearing words while other members of Dark Hopes family congratulated me, surrounding me with affectionate gestures.

  “This is the first Academy Award and second nomination for Maggie Dawson.”

  I walked to the podium to collect the award, flanked by a standing ovation, my eyes glued to a wet pair of dark brown ones.

  Mike’s thumb was at the corner of his eye as I climbed the steps. When I reached him, the hand holding the statuette was shaking, his free arm fidgeting. I could tell he was reluctant to hug me. To end his doubt, I opened my arms.

  For a moment, I could hear nothing but the sound of his shuddering breaths on my shoulder and the wild beating of his heart against my chest. My arms wrapped around his waist, and I didn’t want the moment to end.

  “Congratulations,” he whispered in my ear, and then his lips caressed my cheek.

  My heart throbbed.

  As he drew back, his arms lingered on my shoulders and his eyes on my lips. “You look so beautiful.”

  I trembled. “Thank you.”

  He handed me the statuette, my blue gift still on his wrist. His eyes dropped to my cherry blossom bracelet as he stepped back.

  I looked ahead at the fabulous people applauding me. “Wow. Thank you.” I took a moment to breathe then looked at the camera. “I’ve been called undecided, a failure, a disappointment, selfish and unworthy by the closest people to me. Yet today, here I stand.”

  The audience applauded while my fingers tightened around the golden statuette.

  “This is a shout out to all of the abused. To those who carry the scar on their faces or their bodies or their souls for the rest of their lives. You may think you’ll never heal. You may think you’ll never be happy again, even at the greatest moments of your lives. But I’m gonna tell you what my father told me the other day. Allow yourself to be happy because you deserve it.”

  I waited the applause out. “It took me a long time to understand that, but I can assure you that I am happy now, and I’ll stay that way because I won’t let anything change that. The monster still visits, but I’m strong enough now to conquer it away. If I can do it, then so can you. It all starts with the word ‘believe’.”

  Another round of applause erupted. “I’d like to thank my friends who believed in me right from the start, Raoul Garcia and Amanda Baker, and the friends who had faith in me even in my darkest hours, Don Robello and Jim Cassidy. And above them all, the idiot crying next to me.”

  The audience burst into laughter as I glanced at Mike. “Seriously, stop it or I’m gonna cry, too.”

  He was crying and laughing at the same time, his hand on his chest, shaking his head.

  “Okay. My time’s up. Thank you.” I raised my award for the picture. Then Mike’s arm escorted me off the stage.

  “I’m sorry about that. I just couldn’t help myself.” He wiped the last of his tears. “Where should I take you? Back to your boyfriend?”

  My lips twitched on a smile. “No. To the press room. I wanna return before Best Actor.”

  I could feel his eyes on me as we walked, even hear the unsaid words troubling his chest. He finally managed to ask one question. “Is it true?”

  “What is true?”

  “That you’re happy now?”

  I smiled at him. “Yes.”

  “Good. Great.”

  “How have you been doing?”

  “All right. I finally took your advice and went to therapy. Been going nine months now.”

  I smiled again. “That’s great news.”

  Scene 92

  Maggie

  When I entered the press room, there was a smattering of applause.

  The room had gray and wood-paneled walls, gray carpet with pink patterns, a buffet table of sandwiches and cheese cubes, and a small stage with two oversized statuettes. There were seven long tables with placards for news outlets. Reporters with tiny microphones and headsets packed the area.

  “How are you feeling right now?” one of them asked.

  “Very good, actually. Thank you. It’s a great Hollywood tradition, and I love being a part of it.”

  “Did you anticipate this win?”

  “No. I didn’t even think I’d be nominated after last year. Luckily, Hollywood considers mental, suicidal fuck-ups like me to be worthy artists. Shit. I shouldn’t say fuck-ups. Man, I shouldn’t say shit either. Maybe I’ll just swear in Italian from now.” I giggled with the random bursts of laughter.

  “That was an inspiring speech you gave, Ms. Dawson. How did you manage to overcome your crisis as a victim of emotional abuse and come out a winner?”

  “Through several steps. The first one is understanding your condition, being aware of it, putting a name to it, which helps you identify the problem; you have been in a toxic relationship. In my case, I had a narcissistic sociopath for a mother. Those kinds of relationships can destroy lives.

  “The second thing is that you need to realize that forgiving your abuser could be liberating. You do it not because the abuser deserves your forgiveness, but because you deserve peace. I have to say all that can’t happen unless you get the support you need, not just through therapy—it never works alone—but through good, understanding people who are there for you when you need them.”

  “Why was Mike Gennaro in so many tears when you won?”

  “Ask him and tell me.”

  “Why did you tell him you were going to cry too if he didn’t stop?”

  He might never know it, but his tears lead straight to my soul still. Make me, just like he once told me, wanna hold him and never let go. I shrugged. “I just can’t stand his tears as much as he can’t stand mine.”

  Scene 93

  Maggie

  At the end of the ceremony, Jim and I took an elevator, holding our statuettes, to the Governors Ball. We pushed through to the back of the ballroom, down a hallway swathed in red velvet, and found the little corner room where the winners get their statuettes engraved; a corny Oscar formality we both enjoyed.

  “From now on I’m gonna call you The Maker,” he said as he ushe
red me back to the ballroom.

  “What?”

  “You make winners, Maggie. Your movies made me a winner tonight.” He looked across the room, where Mike was standing alone, a drink in his hand. “And Gennaro before me.”

  “Your talent made you a winner, Jim.”

  He shrugged. “I was never nominated until I worked with you.”

  “You think very highly of me.” I shook my head. “I’m just…”

  “Beautiful in every way possible.” He gave me his industry smile. “Would you like to dance?”

  “How can I say no to that smile?”

  His eyes moved along the line of my throat and across my collarbone as we danced. “I’m going to miss you.”

  I tilted my head to the side. “Going somewhere?”

  “You are.” His lips stretched with a sad smile. “I see the way you look at him.”

  I stilled. “Jim—”

  “Don’t.” Placing his hand on the small of my back, he sighed and made me move with him again. “I’ve always hoped you’d look at me that way, but tonight I realize that day will never come.”

  I blinked, struggling to find the right words to say.

  “I’m thankful for every moment you allowed me in your company and the hope and the friendship, but I’d like to be looked at the same way you look at him.”

  My chin dipped to my chest. “I’m sorry. I really tried.”

  “Don’t apologize. I knew what I was getting myself into. I have no regrets.”

  “Jim…” My tears betrayed me.

  “Don’t cry, please.” His thumb was gentle on my face as he wiped away the tears. “Just go to him.”

  My arms fell to the side. “You’re a better man than he is, Jim.”

  “But you’re dark and twisted, and so is he. He understands you better than anyone. Better than I ever could.”

  I sighed as I nodded. He could never be more right.

  A beat of silence passed before we both could say our goodbyes.

  “Friends?” I asked.