by Maree Green
Taking a deep breath, I tried to relax my hands on my clutch, but I was just too wound up to make it work. I actually thought I might be sick.
“Hey,” Josh said from beside me, his hand sliding over mine. “Stop stressing. You’ll be fine. I wouldn’t drag you along unless I knew you could do this.”
Blowing out a deep breath, I nodded, but I still wasn’t convinced.
Josh shifted his body so it was more in line with mine. “Baby, it’s not that much different than what we get on the sidewalk. It’s actually easier than that because the crowds are controlled. The only visible difference is the fact that everyone’s dressed nicer,” he said, grinning.
I looked over his black tuxedo and nodded. He was right. I could do this.
“Here,” he said, reaching behind him and pulling out two little bottles of amber liquid. “I know I shouldn’t be encouraging this—especially because you’re underage—but let’s make a toast.”
He unscrewed the lids and handed me one. “What is it?”
“Brandy. It’ll just take the edge off your nerves, okay?”
I gave the bottle a little sniff, trying to work out what it might taste like. I was hesitant to drink anything that might impair my judgment, especially when the world was watching, but I could also say the same for the nerves that were growing with every breath I took. They had just as much potential to make me do something that could embarrass me for the next decade.
Holding the bottle up to tap it against Josh’s, I threw caution to the wind and tipped the liquid back.
My eyes widened as it burned all the way down my throat. Holding my breath, I tried to wait the sting out, pleading with myself not to choke, cough, or spit it out. After a few seconds, I took a breath, weirded out by the warmth that was spreading all the way down to my stomach.
“Okay?” Josh asked, taking the empty bottle from me and dropping them both behind him.
I nodded, not sure I could get my voice to work just yet. But as the car slowed further, pulling up to the hotel, I started to feel a slight tingling in my muscles, loosening them, helping me to release the tension I was clinging to.
“Here we go,” Lance called out from the driver’s seat.
The Escalade came to a stop, and Daniel jumped out of the passenger seat, ready to open our door. Josh squeezed my hand. “Just smile. Show them how happy you are.”
That, I could do.
As soon as the door opened, cameras started flashing and people started yelling for Josh to look at them. With my hand firmly in his, I let him help me out, stepping onto the red carpet beside him and smoothing down my dress. The warmth of the brandy was well and truly settling into my body now, but I kind of felt a little light-headed if I was to be honest. I wasn’t sure if I liked it.
Josh pulled me forward a little before stopping and turning toward the yelling cameras.
“Joshua! This way!”
“Over here!”
“Joshua! Olivia!”
We turned again, stopping to face another direction. Dutifully, I smiled, trying not to get blinded by the lights. After another turn, Josh squeezed my hand and started guiding me toward the hotel again, obviously done with the posing.
But then we were on some freaking red carpet version of the yellow brick road, because to me, it seemed to go on forever, and it was lined with dozens of people holding microphones and cameras.
Crap. I wasn’t sure I was going to like the red road.
A woman with a clipboard and headpiece that had a microphone attached, rushed up, her face set into what could only be described as all business. “Joshua. You’re up for pictures.”
Josh nodded, following the manic woman as she briskly led us to a raised platform surrounded by dozens of photographers. Letting Josh’s hand slip from mine, I gave him a smile, letting him know I was perfectly fine with him getting up there without me.
“Chicken,” he said, smirking at me. But then he walked up the steps and slipped his hands into his pockets and smiled.
“You can go up in thirty seconds,” the woman said beside me.
I turned, ready to argue, but the look on her face silenced me in less than a second.
Her gaze traveled down to the bruises on my neck. “You really should cover that up, you know. This is an awards night. People want to see happy things, not that.”
I blinked at her, stunned by her words. Anger bubbled under my skin. What the hell kind of crap was that to say to someone who had almost been strangled to death? I was ready to let her have it.
“Go,” she said. “You have thirty seconds. Make it count.”
I struggled with my indecision. I wanted to tell her to shove it, but I had to remind myself that I was here for Josh. Turning away from her, I swallowed down my irritation and joined him on the platform, the sight of him making it easy to turn on my smile again.
“Are you all right?” he asked as we made our way down to the red road again.
“Yeah,” I said, smiling out at the people as we walked past. “Just learning how shallow some people can be.”
As we stopped at some woman with a microphone, Josh gave me a subtle nod, murmuring a quiet, “Yep.”
Over the next fifteen minutes, I made myself the perfect escort. I smiled, watched Josh with interest as he talked about the awards, and answered the small fluff questions that were occasionally thrown my way.
We were near the end when Josh stopped at a petite blonde woman calling out his name. “Joshua, Cassie Muldoon, Entertainment Tonight. This is your fourth BAFTAs. Do you agree with tonight’s nominations for the award for excellence in film?”
Josh shifted on his feet. This was approximately the tenth time he’d heard this exact question. I wondered if he was sick of it yet. As he gave the same answer he’d given the rest, I dreamed of the moment we could walk inside and sit down.
It wasn’t until I heard my name that I realized I was no longer paying attention. Oops.
I looked up to meet the woman’s gaze, watching it flicker down to my neck. “It was reported last week that you were attacked in your own apartment. Can you tell me anything about that? Is the bruising around your neck a result of the attack?”
It wasn’t the first time someone had looked at my bruising tonight, but it was the first time someone had asked me about it. In fact, no one had asked me anything harder than how I was finding the spotlight with Josh. I wondered if they’d been told not to. As I thought about the possibility of that being the case, my irritation flared.
Josh pulled at my hand, ready to drag me away, but I resisted. I didn’t want to walk away from this question. I wanted to have my voice heard.
Leaning forward, I met her gaze. “Cassie, was it?” I asked, watching her nod, her gaze intent, yet slightly worried. “Hi, Cassie. That’s a good question. Actually, I think that’s the most important question I’ve heard all night. It’s true. Someone broke into my apartment in the middle of the day, and tried to strangle me. It was a really scary moment,” I said, tightening my hold on Josh’s hand. “But do you know what’s even scarier than that?” I asked, gauging Cassie’s reception to my sudden verbal spew. As her eyes flashed with excitement, I continued. “The response I’ve had from these bruises ever since. I’ve had people—even tonight—telling me I need to cover them up. To pretend they’re not there. And to me, that begs the question, why? Why do these people—these women—want me to pretend that the attack didn’t happen? It’s a clear indication of what’s wrong with our society today.”
Understanding shone in Cassie’s eyes, and she nodded her agreement. “So, what would you say to those people right now?”
Adrenaline pumped through my veins. “I’d say, whether you’re man or woman, each time you ask someone to cover their bruises, you’re covering for an abuser. Each time you turn and look the other way, you’re helping an abuser. If me not covering these bruises encourages even one woman to speak up—one woman to talk about any abuse she’s suffered at the hands of another
person, then I can say, with definite conviction, the looks of disdain you’ve given me was worth it.”
Cassie smiled triumphantly, and a second later Josh and I were being ushered inside.
As we stepped through the doors, I leaned in closer to Josh and exhaled. “I don’t think you should give me brandy ever again.”
Pulling me into his side, he gazed down at me and smiled. “God, I love you.”
Chapter 64
Josh
The week after the BAFTAs was crazy. It started with a personal plea to the judge to refuse bail to the psychotic girl who’d tried to kill Liv, followed by a demand to the studio to force Hannah into issuing a statement saying we were just good friends.
But all that was overshadowed by Liv’s rant on the red carpet. The amount of people talking about it had taken over from the awards themselves. I’d had both Neil and Ian calling me non-stop since it had been aired. Neil, taking it in his stride, happy to focus on the positives coming from the attention, and Ian, practically popping a vein in his temple, screaming at me that Liv was going to ruin my career.
But regardless of Ian’s view of the situation, and as controversial as her rant had been, the number of people coming out in support of her was insane.
I didn’t think I’d ever been so proud of someone in my entire life. Without even meaning to, she’d somehow become some sort of ambassador for violence against women, but, instead of cowering away from the unexpected attention, she’d simply taken it all in her stride.
Maybe it was her experience in Africa, or maybe it was just her genetic disposition. Either way, she was a force no one had seen coming. Including me. It was a side of her I didn’t even know existed, and when I thought about how many times I’d agonized over her ability to handle my world, it made me feel ashamed that I’d underestimated her so badly.
And it was for that reason that I needed to confess my sins and ask for her forgiveness. As she stepped out of her bathroom, I drew in a deep, steadying breath and sat down on the little armchair where it all began.
Her eyes narrowed as she found me, confusion creasing her brow. “What’s wrong?”
I pressed my lips together, hoping like hell she wasn’t going to be mad. “There’s something I need to tell you,” I said, diving in before I chickened out.
Worry flooded her eyes, but she moved toward me anyway, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.
I paused, my brain refusing to cooperate with me in its full capacity. “I’ve done something I probably shouldn’t have, and I’m praying to everything holy out there that you’ll forgive me.”
Her chin raised a fraction, dread flashing in the depths of her eyes. “Okay,” she said, making it sound more like a question than anything else.
I sat forward, leaning my elbows on the arms of the chair. “The night you were attacked—when I got here and found you asleep,” I started, searching my head for how to say what came next.
She cocked her head to the side, nodding slightly.
“I didn’t want to wake you, but I didn’t want to leave you either,” I said carefully. “I thought that maybe I could sit here and read something . . .”
She nodded, still confused.
“I thought you might have a book or something somewhere . . .”
“Josh,” she said, warning clear in the tone of her voice.
I huffed. “Okay. I found your screenplay.”
Her eyes widened. “You read it?” Her tone was slightly incredulous.
Yep. I was fucked. “I’m sorry, Liv. I didn’t intend to. At first I was just surprised. I mean, you’ve never said anything to me about writing one. But then I read the first page and I couldn’t stop. Why didn’t you tell me you’d written a screenplay?”
Uncertainty forced her eyes to narrow. “I don’t know,” she said. “It’s not something I’d ever thought about, really. It wasn’t until I saw your script at the beach house that I thought it would be cool to convert the novel I’d written into one.” She stood and moved over to the window. “I just wanted to see if I could do it. For the fun of it.”
I stood and walked over to her. “I wasn’t going to say anything. I thought I’d wait until you were ready to tell me. But I can’t stop thinking about it, Liv. It’s good. Like really good. I think I can get someone to pick it up.”
She gasped. “What? No!”
“Why not?” I asked, confused at her reaction. “I’m serious, Liv. I’m not saying this to make you feel good or any other crap. I genuinely think it has amazing potential.” I sighed at her horrified expression. This so wasn’t going how I’d wanted it to. “Please, Liv. Just let me show it to Lucas. If he doesn’t agree with me, we’ll never talk about it again.”
Her gaze moved between mine, worry and indecision making her chew on the inside of her cheek. A long moment later, she released a slow breath. “I’ll let you show it to Lucas on one condition.”
I waited, hoping it was something I could agree to.
“You can’t tell him I wrote it.”
I blinked. I didn’t understand why she wouldn’t want her name associated with it. It was fucking incredible. But there was no way I was going to argue with her about it. “Deal.”
“And don’t ever read my work without asking again,” she said, her gaze warning me.
Pulling her into my arms, I gave her an apologetic smile. “I promise, I won’t. But, Liv, you need to have a serious think about what happens when he says he loves it. Because I know he’s going to.”
“What do you mean?”
There was no way to be gentle about it. “I mean it’s going to get picked up, Liv. Unless you say no, that story is going to be made into a movie. You need to start thinking about how much you want to be involved in it.”
Worry churned in her eyes again, and she moved to sit back down on the bed. “I don’t know, Josh. You know it was never my intention to get into the movie business. I just like writing stories.”
Sitting down beside her, I took her hand. “I know what you mean, but writing screenplays is a part of the movie industry, Liv.”
Searching my eyes, she bit her lip, struggling more than she should be. “I just don’t want anyone to think you’re only making it to help me get my foot in the door. I’d rather it not be made at all.”
I sighed. Unfortunately, she was right. People had been crucified for making bad movies for people they loved before.
“I’m not saying I don’t want it to be made,” she said, logic taking over. “But if it is, I think it would be best for us both if my name wasn’t associated with it.”
I tried to hide my smile. I knew what she was saying was valid and it was something that would take a large amount of consideration, but the fact that she more or less had just agreed to let me make it, made me a very happy man. “Can I make a suggestion?” I asked, hoping I wasn’t pushing my luck too far.
She gave me a wary look, waiting.
“Get your manuscript ready and get yourself a literary agent, because once this has been optioned, you’re going to print, baby.”
Her eyes widened as the enormity of it all hit her. “Crap.”
Pulling her into my arms, I laughed. I had no doubt that success was coming for her whether she liked it or not. And I didn’t think it could come to a more deserving person.
Chapter 65
Olivia
Sitting in the passenger seat of the Escalade, I clutched my hands in my lap as Josh turned off the engine.
Taking the keys out of the ignition, he turned to me and laughed. “You look like you’re about to be executed.”
I didn’t tell him I felt like it too.
Leaning over, he kissed me, amusement streaming from his eyes. “Liv, my parents already love you, so you can stop worrying.”
Rolling my eyes, I unclipped my seat belt and looked up at the mansion we were parked outside of. “They haven’t even met me yet.”
“It doesn’t matter. They know you make me happy, and that’s al
l they care about,” he said, climbing from the SUV. Coming around to my side, he opened my door and waited for me to step out, pulling me into him the second I did. “You have nothing to worry about, beautiful,” he said, kissing me, soft and slow.
“Ah, so this is how he keeps you from running away . . .”
I turned at the sound of the man’s voice, finding an older version of Josh, with salt-and-pepper hair and slightly greener eyes.
He stepped forward, grinning from ear to ear. “You must be Olivia,” he said, giving me a gentle hug and kissing me on the cheek. “I’m James. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
I smiled, my body starting to relax almost immediately. “It’s nice to meet you too.”
The front door opened, and a woman walked out onto the porch. “I’m sorry,” she said, rushing down the stairs. “He escaped before I could stop him. I hope he hasn’t said anything inappropriate.”
Josh laughed, hugging his dad before opening his arms for his mom. “Not yet,” he said. “But give him time. I’m sure he won’t disappoint. Mom, this is Liv.”
His mom laughed, the sound deep and playful. “Hi, Liv,” she said, pulling me into a warm embrace. “I’m Rachel.”
“Hi, Rachel,” I said, liking them both already. Josh had said I would, but I hadn’t been so sure.
Rachel beamed at me. “Come inside and freshen up. People will be here before you know it.”
I nodded, remembering the party that had been organized for tonight. Josh only had a couple days off filming, so it was easier for him to just invite all his old friends here for a private get-together, rather than trying to find a way to see everyone while fighting the paparazzi.
Rachel wrapped her hands around James’s arm and let out a contented sigh. “Grab your bags, Josh. Your room has already been made up for you.”
Josh winked at me and smiled before retrieving our bags from the trunk. Kissing me on the cheek, he whispered in my ear: “Told you so.”
I refrained from poking my tongue out at him as we followed his parents inside, but only just. And it wasn’t until we were by ourselves in the room Josh called ‘his’ that I finally allowed myself to smile.