I nodded. “That’s what I always thought happened, but I had no proof.”
“Were you aware of any drug smuggling by the US military in Iraq?” Octavia asked.
“No, I wasn’t,” I told her. “It was only after I was arrested that I learned that was even a problem, let alone one that was going to be pinned on me. From what I understand it was only a few bad people, but they managed to cover everything up.”
“Let’s talk about that,” she said. “What happened after you were arrested…”
Octavia wasn’t just a decent journalist. She was a great one. As I learned later on, she knew the story that Quintin Rodriguez came forward with was full of holes. She’d already started pulling at the strings. When everyone went for a drink after the interview, I learned the truth.
“I was always much more interested in the idea that the US military was hushing up a drug smuggling scheme than what happened to your career,” she said candidly. Isabelle was still staring at Octavia like she wouldn’t mind shoving her in front of a train, but I was starting to be less suspicious of her. It was somehow reassuring that she wasn’t in it to discredit me.
“So, the whole ‘Me Too’ but for men thing was just a bonus?” Isabelle asked. “You do realize that you almost ruined Connor’s life a second time, don’t you?”
Octavia shrugged her shoulders. “I did my part to correct the narrative tonight. That’s my role. I report the news.”
Isabelle’s eyes narrowed. “You really think highly of yourself, don’t you? It must be really nice to think that your pursuit of justice is so important that any collateral damage along the way is totally justified.”
Octavia didn’t reply at first. “It was definitely an unfortunate situation,” she said. “I didn’t mean to continue to spread false information. That’s why we did this interview tonight. But I was reporting on the facts I had available. And the facts I had available at the time indicated that Connor Prince was a criminal who never faced justice.”
“Maybe check your facts a little bit better next time,” Isabelle snapped.
Octavia nodded. “Noted.” She wasn’t going to admit that she was wrong. I think she’d already gotten as close as her ego would allow.
But it hardly mattered. I squeezed Isabelle’s hand. It was all okay now. The truth was out there.
55
Isabelle
The Final Battle
The underwriters changed their minds in a hurry once Connor Prince went from American horror to American hero. We were back shooting Night Stalker within a week (sans Ashton Radley who had yet to make bail, as his credit was shot). Mark Rodgers did a bang-up job as the new lead, and the plot had been modified to let Connor turn from mindless beast back into a sexy man at the end. It was all coming together.
Other pieces of the puzzle were a little slower to resolve. The press festival that had been gathered on the lawn of Connor’s house in LA didn’t disappear. It would, eventually, but first the firestorm of Prince-Gate 2020 would have to die down. Yes, that’s what they named it.
After Connor came forward with his story, a lot of other people who corroborated things or offered their own pieces started coming out of the woodwork. The conspiracy that the military covered up was a big scandal, far weightier and far reaching than just the destruction of one actor’s golden career. People had been hurt and bullied in the pursuit of keeping the truth down. But even though the truth had been swept under the rug for more than a decade, it wasn’t buried any more.
Connor was at the center of it all. He was being hailed as the greatest whistleblower of his time, stepping forward after being silenced and maligned by practically everybody for years. It had reinvigorated interest in him as a man and an actor. All at once, everyone wanted a piece of him. He was fielding calls from every director, writer, producer, and agent in Hollywood. It was enough to make a girl like me wonder if she still had a place in his life.
At fifteen weeks pregnant, I was really starting to feel the weight of it. I had a full-on baby bump now, visible through all my clothes, which were beginning to feel a little bit tight. I’d already had to switch over from regular pants to stretchy pants. My feet had started to swell a bit more than I liked, but at least I could still see them. I’d started taking more walks to try and help with the swelling.
It was as I was coming back from one of those walks when I heard Connor on the phone.
“I can’t do twelve weeks in Ireland,” he was saying. “Listen, the movie sounds like a blast, but my girlfriend is pregnant. I’m not going to leave her all alone.”
I poked my head in to see him looking annoyed. My heart fell. This wasn’t what I wanted. He took one look at my face and wrapped the call up.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Are you feeling okay?”
I shook my head. “You should go shoot your movie in Ireland, Connor. I don’t want to hold you back.”
He looked horrified. “Izzie, what are you saying?”
“You’ve got this opportunity now,” I managed, fighting back tears. “Everybody loves you. They want you to star in every movie. It’s like it’s 2003 all over again. You’d be crazy to turn down these opportunities. I’ll be okay—”
Connor hopped up and stared at me. “Izzie, is that what you think I want?”
I looked up at him. “Don’t you?”
I would. If I lost everything over something so unfairly, I’d definitely want to get it back. Connor had worked hard to build his film career in the first place. He’d had no Prince name to fall back on like his nephews, he had built it. They were riding on his legacy. I could only imagine he was excited to take back the fame and prestige that he’d been denied these last ten or so years.
“No,” he told me. “That isn’t what I want at all.”
I gaped at him. “But it’s yours for the taking.” He could have everything again.
“Izzie,” Connor said, rounding the desk to grab both my hands, “if my experience has taught me one thing, it’s that fame and fortune are temporary. All that really matters are the people in your life. I had a lot of people in my life before my scandal. They all disappeared when I got in trouble. It was only a few people that were willing to stick with me after the party was over and trouble set in. It was an even smaller group of people who found the good in me after I went into hiding. You, Luc, and Jimmy, and my immediate family are the only people I really trust. You’re the ones I want to live my life around. The rest is just window dressing.”
“But the film in Ireland—”
“They can go fuck themselves. The same with the epic fantasy film somebody called me about that’s going to shoot in New Zealand.” He sounded perfectly serious, but I couldn’t understand.
“But you said you wanted to work as an actor again.”
Didn’t that mean travel? Being an actor required travel, it was simply part of the job. It could mean being in Australia one week and Canada the next. It seemed like the big A-list actors were constantly getting on and off planes to make their movies.
“I want to act again,” Connor told me, “but only on my terms. I don’t need to relive my twenties. I had my twenties.”
“You spent half of your twenties watching your career evaporate,” I reminded him. “You’re entitled to get some of that back for yourself now.”
Even if it didn’t include me. It couldn’t. Not realistically.
“I’d rather see your twenties,” he told me though, squeezing my hands in his. “I told you before that I didn’t want to be famous again, but that wasn’t entirely true. I was bitter and jaded and resentful when I said that. I wouldn’t mind having the best of my career back. I’m looking forward to whatever these next few months might bring me in terms of opportunities. But I’m also not so desperate for validation that I have to give up all the good things I’ve learned during my time not being famous.”
“What do you mean?” I asked him. I still wasn’t convinced.
“One of the things I lea
rned over the past fifteen years was that I don’t mind being anonymous. I’d worked so hard to get rich and famous. But honestly? Being rich is a hell of a lot better than being famous. Being famous pretty much sucks. You have no privacy. You have vultures always hanging around like that Meg Butler woman who confronted you the other day. They’re always just waiting for an opportunity to come in and take a bite. That’s no way to live.”
“So, you’re just going to say no to everything?” I asked Connor. “All the roles you’re being offered?”
He shook his head. “When I find the right project, the one that will fit into our lives, I’ll take it. But I’m not in any rush. The only rush I’m in right now is the rush to make my life with you and our daughter.”
I believed him. For the first time in recent days, I was able to take a deep breath in and out.
“I was afraid there would be no place in your life for me,” I admitted. “I didn’t want to hold you back.”
Connor looked disbelieving. “It’s the other way around,” he told me. “I don’t want to hold you back. Speaking of which, did you see the early reviews for Night Stalker?”
I shook my head and Connor turned his laptop around on his desk so I could read them. My jaw went slack as I did.
“Visual effects as good as anything seen in Hollywood since HR Giger.”
He was my hero. Literally. The man was a genius and a visionary.
“An excellent and inventive reimagining of a frequently overdone and oversexed archetype. Night Stalker does something few werewolf movies can—scare audiences.”
The praise continued down the page. Holy cow. People actually liked it.
“Is this for real?” I asked Connor, just to be sure.
He grinned. “It’s real.” He pushed my hair back from my face and gazed down into my eyes adoringly. “I think it’s time I turn over my production company to someone with the vision to run it. Since I’m going to be heading back into acting, I won’t have time anymore. Izzie, do you want to do it?”
I stared up at him openmouthed. “Are you serious?”
He nodded. “Totally. You’ll still have Luc to run the day-to-day bullshit, but I think it makes sense for you to take over the thought leadership and strategic direction. I know you wanted to progress your career and eventually start a visual effects company. This will let you do that and pick your projects. Develop the stories you want to develop and have total creative control.”
“I—” my brain was too full of ideas, insecurities, and questions to form a reply. “I’m not sure I’m ready.”
“I’m sure,” Connor told me. “And I’ll be there to help you every step of the way. Do you trust me?”
That I could answer. “Yes, I trust you.”
It hadn’t happened overnight, but I trusted Connor with my life. I loved him. If he said I was ready, then I was willing to take the plunge.
“Then say yes.” Connor smiled down at me and my heart fluttered.
Impulsivity got me where I was today. There was no reason to stop now.
“Yes.”
Epilogue
Baby and the Beast
Lucy and I were having lunch at Peter Prince’s favorite Thai Food place when it happened.
“Lucy,” I stuttered, stumbling back from the bathroom and holding a hand against my now-giant belly. “We need to go right now.”
Her eyes got huge. “Is it?”
I nodded. “My water just broke.”
“Shit!” she cried, leaping up and dropping a couple of bills on her unfinished Pad Thai, “Okay, okay, let’s go.”
Lucy and I had gotten a lot closer over the past few months. We were already friendly, but I’d been hesitant to reach out to her since her career went into the stratosphere after ‘Admit You Want Me’ came out. But a lot of things had changed in the past half year, and we saw each other almost weekly now. Getting Thai Food together on Sundays had become our ritual. Peter usually went to work out with his friend Mark on Sundays, and Connor had his lunch date with Luc and Jimmy. So, we’d scheduled our thing accordingly.
What was not on schedule was the baby. She was almost two whole weeks late. So, when my water broke, I was relieved. I was so ready to not be pregnant anymore.
“You seem weirdly calm,” Lucy remarked as she drove me to the hospital. “Too calm.”
“I’m just ready to meet this baby,” I told her. “Besides, at this point there’s nothing I can do. I’m going to have a baby one way or another. Freaking out about it isn’t going to help.”
“That’s a good attitude,” she said, looking at me sidelong. “But I’m going to bet that once the pain starts you won’t be so damn tranquil.”
“Fuck you, Connor Prince! Fuck you for doing this to me!”
The contraction slammed into me like a freight train. Time slowed to a near halt so I could really savor the pain and it just seemed to go on and on and on. I’d wanted a natural birth. I was having a natural birth. I was the world’s biggest fucking idiot.
Connor held my hand, brushed my hair back from my forehead, and looked contrite. He had been saying comforting things to me and intermittently kissing me, but I told him if he didn’t shut up, I’d murder him. So, he shut up. I wasn’t even grateful. I continued to hurl insults at him, screaming in pain and pushing so hard that I can only imagine that unmentionable things were coming out of me. I didn’t care. I just wanted this to be over.
I was a total beast in that moment. All rationality and complex thought was gone like it had never existed in the first place. All I could do was scream, breathe, and push. And I couldn’t even do all of those things at the same time. They had to take turns for one another.
“Connor, I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you…” Another contraction shook me, coming almost immediately after the last one. The doctor said I was almost there, but Dr. Rose could fuck off and die. I was pretty much just making unintelligible anger noises.
I stared up at the ceiling and prayed to God that this would be over soon. It had to be over soon. I couldn’t keep on like this much longer. This baby had to get born eventually, right? Didn’t she want to come out? I wanted her out.
I wanted her out six hours ago.
I’d been in labor now for eight hours. Eight long hours. Eight endlessly long, painful hours here on a hospital bed. I’d thought that I wanted to do this all naturally, but if I ever had another baby, I was getting the epidural.
Actually, there would never be another baby. I’d never do this crap again. Not ever. Connor could pay another surrogate if he wanted another baby. Because no matter how much I loved him, the answer was no.
Another push, a brief feeling of relief, a cold rush of air, and then… a cry.
A cry?
I looked down, halfway afraid that I’d pushed myself apart. I saw her, all red, wet, and brand new to the universe. My world realigned in a dizzy instant. All thought of the pain disappeared, and I felt only overwhelming relief and joy. So much joy. They were cleaning her up and laying her down on me a moment later, and Connor was touching my face, and then, our daughter’s. Our perfect baby.
My body was exhausted, more exhausted than I’d ever felt before, but my heart felt brand new. I looked at Connor and saw my own wonder, love, and excitement reflected in his gaze. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.
On my chest, a tiny pink human stirred and blinked her eyes. She was so small but full of life. So perfect. And she was ours. Connor and I made her. We hadn’t known what we were doing when we made her, but somehow, it had all worked out.
“So, what are you going to name her?” a nurse asked some indeterminate amount of time later. I looked up, still feeling like I was in some kind of fantasy.
Connor and I exchanged a wordless look. We still hadn’t figured that out yet. But we would. I’d probably come up with something on the fly and it would work out. It always had so far.
If you enjoyed ‘Baby and the Beast’, you’re going to love the next book
in the Princes of Hollywood series ‘Auctioned to the A-Lister’. Fall in love with sweetie-pie Cindy as she breaks free of her oppressive step-family and finds romance with alpha movie star Tommy in this modern, sexy riff off the classic Cinderella story. Look out for the preorder coming soon!
‘Auctioned to the A-Lister’ will be available February 13th.
Turn the page for an exclusive teaser!
Auctioned to the A-Lister
Special Teaser
‘Auctioned to the A-Lister’ is the second book in the Princes of Hollywood series, featuring Cindy and Tommy.
Warning: This text hasn’t been fully edited and proofed yet. Please excuse any typos!
Chapter 1: Cindy
A year of working at my family’s dry-cleaning business in West Hollywood hadn’t taught me as much as college might have, but I’d picked up a few tricks. For instance, I’d learned that the best way to get vomit out of silk was to follow a three-step protocol. First, carefully scrape off as much crusty vomit as possible without damaging the fabric. Second, because vomit is a protein-based stain and thus mostly water-soluble, flush the entire area with warm water. Finally, create a dilute mixture of dish liquid and white vinegar for detergent to get the rest. It worked like a charm.
I was right in the middle of step two on a particularly lovely royal blue evening gown, when my stepmother Marigold appeared out of nowhere at my elbow. I looked up warily to see her glaring back at me. I wondered what I’d done wrong now.
“Cindy, get out front. There’s someone who wants to talk to you.”
I blinked at her in surprise, elbow deep in disgusting water. It took me a few seconds to find my voice. I hadn’t spoken to anyone all day and my vocal cords felt a bit rusty.
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