Heartbreaker (Hollywood Hearts Book 2)

by Belinda Williams

  We set off at an easy pace and must have been walking for at least twenty minutes when Marc spoke.

  “My dad and I used to go camping whenever we could.”

  I used my hand to shield the sun from my eyes and looked over at him. Well, this was new. “Just you and your dad?”

  “Yeah. My mom can’t stand it, and that’s putting it lightly.”

  “Five stars all the way for her, huh?”

  “You could say that. And my brother doesn’t care for it either.”

  “You have a brother?”

  “Yeah. Seb. Sebastian,” he corrected. “He’s younger.”

  “Why didn’t he like it?”

  Marc shrugged as we continued to walk. “Probably because I liked it. Who knows?”

  “You’re not close?”

  Marc didn’t answer, so I listened to the long, brown grass rustling beneath our feet as we made a path through it. I’d almost given up on a reply when he cleared his throat.

  “We’re different. And we’re closer now than we used to be.”

  “Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” I’d never had a brother or sister and I would like to think that, if I had, I’d have made an effort to have a relationship with them.

  Marc blew out a long breath, but it wasn’t because he was puffed. “Yeah, it’s good he’s forgiven me.”

  “Forgiven you?” Thankfully I was a good actress. My question was mildly curious instead of fascinated.

  He swept his gaze over the fields spread out before us. “For being a bastard.”

  “You? A bastard?”

  Marc shot me a dark look and I thought I’d almost ruined any chance of the conversation continuing.

  “I guess you could say I was the black sheep,” he said after a while.

  Or the dark angel, I thought.

  “I never fit into that life.”

  This time I did stop walking. “What life?”

  He gestured to the horizon. “Hollywood. Movies, acting, all of it.”

  Oh. I started walking again, more slowly. It made sense, I had to admit. Marc’s scorn of the industry wasn’t something he hid, but I was starting to understand that maybe it was more deep-seated than I first thought.

  “So it’s not just me you hate?” I joked.

  Marc frowned so hard it looked like it hurt. “I don’t hate you, Lena. I just wonder why you put up with all the shit.”

  “I’ve told you before, it’s because I like what I do, but what’s that got to do with your brother?” We’d already been through this and I was keen to learn more about his family.

  “He’s more like them—Mom and Dad. Seb loves anything creative. He’s tried his hand at everything. Guitar, singing, musical theater, acting, writing.”

  “Sounds like an awful person.”

  He ignored my quip. “I don’t have a creative bone in my body so I used to make his life hell.”

  “You were jealous.”

  Marc kicked a stick out of his path. “I wasn’t jealous.”

  I hid a smile at his petulant reply.

  “I was angry I didn’t fit,” he said.

  “It doesn’t mean they don’t love you,” I pointed out.

  The firm set of his jaw was like that of an angry boy’s.

  “I mean, I don’t know your family, of course,” I went on, wondering if I’d made an incorrect assumption. Just because he was the son of a well-known Hollywood producer didn’t mean I knew anything about him. His parents could be cold and distant for all I knew.

  “They love me. Damned if I know why for all the grief I’ve given them.”

  I blinked a few times, but it wasn’t because the sun was in my eyes. It was because I was finally starting to understand that some of Marc’s anger was directed at himself.

  “Plenty of kids give their parents grief.”

  “You didn’t,” he shot back.

  “I didn’t get the chance.”

  His expression softened. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s alright. I’m actually glad my mother isn’t around to see things now.”

  “She wouldn’t have approved of your career?”

  I shook my head and smiled. “Oh no. She would love it. She was a big classic movie fan. She’d be so proud. But the divorce and stalking? She’d be worried out of her mind.”

  “Do you think she would have liked Duncan?”

  His question caught me off guard, and I thought carefully before I replied. “I think she would have been wary of him.”

  “Why?”

  “You know why.”

  “Because he’s controlling and fake?”

  “She would have wanted me to be with someone more grounded. So anyway, at least you got your problems out of the way when you were young. Parents expect teenage angst.”

  Marc fell silent and we walked for another minute or two. I didn’t bother to continue the conversation. I was feeling pretty tired due to the lack of sleep and was secretly grateful for the banana. “Mind if we take a break?”

  We sat on the grass, the fields like a never-ending blanket.

  “I’ve given my parents a lot of adult angst, too.”

  I looked across at him. There was something different about Marc here. I could be wrong, but it was like he felt the freedom to be more himself.

  “Because of your job?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Was it dangerous?” I had no idea if he’d worked in an office or out in the field. Somehow I couldn’t imagine him cooped up in a building somewhere.

  “At times.”

  He was right. It was a world away from Hollywood. Apart from stalkers, the sort of danger we dealt with was largely manufactured. “That must have been hard, for you and your family.”

  “It was harder for them.”

  “Let me guess. You liked the danger?”

  “Typical Hollywood. Glorifying it.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Some of us have to live in the real world.”

  I stiffened. Marc wasn’t looking at me—he was still studying the view—but there could be no mistaking his meaning. He thought what I did was indulgent and nothing more than make-believe.

  “Be careful,” I told him, “Hollywood is writing your paycheck at the moment.”

  He shrugged. “You’re earning millions of dollars. I might as well take advantage of it like you are.”

  With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I stood up. I could argue that many of us did do positive things with the money we received. Whether it was charitable donations or advancing causes in need of a higher profile, so many of my peers did more than act. But something told me I’d be wasting my breath.

  And so much for getting to know Marc better. I’d thought there was more to him, but obviously I was wrong.

  “I’m not taking advantage of anyone,” I said very quietly.

  He stood up, too. “No, probably not. Maybe only yourself.”

  Disappointment morphed into a sharp burst of anger, but I swallowed it down. “If you’re suggesting I compromise my values for what I do for a living, then you’d be wrong.”

  He crossed his arms against his annoyingly sturdy chest and his eyes held a challenge. “So long as you can sleep at night.”

  “I can sleep just fine.”

  He grinned. “Fine then.”

  “Can you?”

  His smile faded. “What?”

  “Sleep at night? It seems to me you’re compromising your values by putting up with Hollywood divas like me, just so you can earn a few extra bucks. At least I believe in what I do.”

  Marc’s jaw hardened and his eyes darkened. I didn’t wait for him to reply. I set off in the direction of the house without looking back.

  Chapter 20

  To say the atmosphere in the house after that was frosty would be putting it mildly.

  Marc and I avoided each other as much as possible, which was relatively easy to do given the size of the place. Occupying my time was more difficult.
r />   I watched a movie, then half-heartedly read a book I found on a bookshelf, and dozed for an hour in the afternoon. By five in the evening I was starting to climb the walls. I wasn’t used to having to rest, for one thing. Time away from a production usually involved me doing plenty of exercise and catching up on reading scripts. My injury precluded the former and as for the latter, I didn’t have my laptop with me. I wasn’t in the mood to press Marc to let me access my emails right now. I knew what his answer would be and I was too tired for another heated exchange. Tomorrow, if I could get a decent night’s sleep, I’d push for it. I knew Ally would be desperate to know how I was, too. As annoyed at Marc as I was, I knew he would at least have given her enough information to ease her mind.

  When Jay strolled into the living room just before six pm, I jumped up and rushed over to him.

  He held his palms up and a big grin split his face. “Easy! Or I’ll have Marc on my case.”

  I stood on tiptoes and gave Jay a quick peck on his cheek. It was such a relief to see him. The other guys that had been wandering around were reassuring, but Jay had been with me so long he almost felt like a security blanket.

  I still remembered interviewing him for the job all those years ago. He was one of those well-built men that inspired confidence and I’d loved the fact he was so much taller than me.

  My happiness faded a bit at the mention of Marc. “He’s already on my case,” I complained.

  Jay’s eyebrows rose. “Already? What did you say?”

  “I didn’t say anything!”

  Jay chuckled. “I’m sure you didn’t mean to. Something about the two of you brings out the painful honesty in each other.”

  “I’m not sure I’d call it honesty.” I was very close to pouting, but restrained myself.

  “Whatever it is, he’s pissed.”

  “He’s always pissed.” I’d had enough talking about Marc. “Please tell me you’re here to stay.”

  “For the next few days, yeah.” He held up a laptop that I hadn’t noticed. “I managed to salvage this for you. It was in your office, which was untouched by the fire.”

  “Oh, thank you!” I leaned in to give him a grateful hug. We both chuckled as I was forced to twist to one side so I could embrace him awkwardly with my good arm.

  “There’s no internet access.”

  My happiness disappeared at the sound of Marc’s voice. We turned to see him leaning against the doorway. I wasn’t sure how long he’d been there.

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” I replied coolly.

  Jay tapped the laptop with his index finger. “I downloaded all your emails before I left LA. There’s a few scripts from Diana that she wants you to look through. Should keep you busy.”

  I offered him a show-stopping smile, ignoring Marc. “Wonderful. Thank you. You’ve thought of everything.”

  “Happy to help.”

  I turned and walked over to the beautifully polished wooden coffee table, and set the laptop down. “Actually, there is one more thing you might be able to help with.” I darted a quick glance at Marc who was still watching us. As usual, his face was devoid of emotion. “Um, it’s kind of embarrassing, really.”

  “Now, come on, Lena. You know I don’t blush easily.”

  At Jay’s warm tone, I smiled. He was a big part of the reason I’d survived in Hollywood for so long.

  “I haven’t been able to shower since I got here.” At Jay’s confused expression, I hurried on. “Because of the sling. It makes things difficult. I asked Marc if Ally could come to help me out but you obviously know the answer to that.”

  Jay frowned, and I rushed on again.

  “I didn’t feel comfortable asking anyone else.” The unspoken question hung in the air. I was asking Jay to help me undress without actually saying it. I wasn’t sure why I had chosen to do it in front of Marc and I avoided his gaze.

  Jay wasn’t as shy. He gave Marc a sidelong glance, and understanding lit his features. “No problem. Just shout when you need a hand.”

  “Now. Now would be good. I’m surprised you can’t smell me.” I was careful to keep my eyes on Jay.

  “Only the scent of roses and jasmine.”

  I laughed. It was the first time I’d done so since I’d arrived, and it was a welcome feeling. I gestured to my bedroom off the living area. “I’m just through here.”

  Jay nodded and followed me. From the corner of my eye, I saw Marc push away from the doorway and disappear down the hall.

  *

  I stared at the earthy tone of the bathroom wall tiles as Jay concentrated on undoing my sling. This was uncomfortable, but it was in no way as uncomfortable as it would have been with Marc doing it. My relationship with Jay was more brotherly. Although, if that were the case, what did that make my relationship with Marc? Not brotherly?

  “So what’s going on with you and Marc then?”

  I startled at Jay’s deep voice and wondered if he’d known me so long he was able to tell the direction of my thoughts.

  “Steady. You’ll hurt yourself. More than you have already.”

  “Nothing.” My voice came out small, a bit like a startled bird.

  “He hasn’t upset you?”

  I grimaced as the sling came free and slowly, carefully, lowered my arm. “He always upsets me, don’t worry about it.”

  “You seem more rattled than usual is all.” Jay dropped the sling on the counter.

  “It’s not that. It’s just . . . everything. The house, the operation, now my exile. It kind of takes it out of a girl.”

  “Yeah, I get that.” Jay’s chocolate brown eyes held concern. “Now I’m gonna undo your shirt, and if you ever tell my girlfriend I said that, I’ll resign on the spot.”

  I laughed again and winced a little from the pain. I’d need more drugs at dinnertime. “How is Sophie?”

  “Worried about you.”

  I shot him an unimpressed look. “She should not be worried about me. She should be angry with me for hogging you all the time.” Sophie had been Jay’s girlfriend for the last five years. I secretly wondered if he was ready to pop the question—it was clear he adored her. I worried that his sense of duty to me was somehow stopping him from taking that next step, and hated myself for it.

  “She’s worried about you,” Jay repeated, “and you know she can’t stand it when I hang around all the time. I drive her crazy.”

  I smiled. Sophie was a super-smart entertainment lawyer who was just as busy as Jay. “You can tell her I’m doing fine.”

  There was that word again—fine.

  Jay had finished undoing my buttons. “Alright, now turn around and we’ll slip this off from behind to protect your decency.”

  We wrangled with the shirt in silence and when we were done he added it to the pile on the counter.

  “There,” Jay said, looking at the ceiling and making me want to laugh again. “Now I’ll unhook your bra but you’re on your own from there, OK?”

  “OK. And thank you.”

  “No problem. I feel for the film crew, you know? Where do they look when you’re doing a love scene?”

  “Anywhere but me, mostly.” I wasn’t sure if that was entirely true. Over the years I’d caught a few furtive glances at my breasts, but had learned to detach myself from it.

  “Well, you’re a brave woman.”

  The hook on my bra came free and I used my good arm to hold the material against my cleavage.

  “Marc doesn’t think so,” I muttered, then immediately wished I hadn’t said anything.

  “Say what now?”

  I sighed. “It doesn’t matter. He just said something about me selling myself out for my career, that’s all.”

  I heard Jay swear under his breath. “You decent?”

  “What? Why?”

  “I want to say something to you.”

  I pressed my bra against myself more firmly. “I’m mostly decent.”

  “Good.” Jay met my eyes in the mirror and they were un
usually fierce. “You haven’t sold yourself out. Not even close. You’re all class. Always have been. Don’t let him tell you otherwise, you got that?”

  I nodded at him, strangely humbled. “Of course. It doesn’t matter what he thinks, anyway.”

  Jay’s eyes narrowed. “Now I’m not going to dignify that with a response, because I believe you know better. But I will say this to you: men who care about someone in a certain way will act a certain way.”

  I stared at him. “I’m not sure I get you.”

  Jay nodded. “Yeah, you do, Lena. Yeah, you do. It’s just whether you choose to admit it or not. Yell out after your shower if you need a hand.”

  I continued to stare after him when he was gone.

  Chapter 21

  The following twenty-fours hours proved more bearable, or maybe that was because Jay was here and Marc made himself scarce. Added to that, I’d managed a careful shower without getting my stitches wet and the post-operative pain was getting better, too.

  By five o’clock the next evening I’d almost go as far to say I’d had a good day. The scripts Diana had sent me were interesting, and there was one in particular I would tell her I was keen on. As soon as I returned to LA, I’d get her to start negotiations.

  I was still pondering that script when I heard the sound of a car outside. Jay rose from the sofa next to mine and I set the script down on the table. I watched him walk to the window overlooking the drive.

  “Who is it?” I was curious, rather than scared. Aside from being in the middle of nowhere, it was highly unlikely anyone had tracked my whereabouts thanks to Marc’s excessive security precautions.

  “It’s an older woman and a kid.”

  “A kid?”

  I stood up and joined Jay at the window. While I believed him, I was still surprised to see an elegant older lady with shoulder-length dark hair walking hand in hand with a young girl of maybe ten or eleven. Even from a distance, the pale-faced young girl was striking. She had thick, wavy red hair—not bright orange as many kids did. It was a red so deep it was almost brown. I could sense a nervousness in the way she was clasping the lady’s hand.

  Just before they reached the entrance, the girl looked our way and her eyes rounded. Big, impossibly dark brown eyes.