by North, Paige
“Sophie,” he cried out, a grunt mixed with passion, and he exploded inside me. I felt some of his juices run down my legs, and I kept pushing back into him to get every last drop.
Afterward, as the world came back into focus, we settled on the pillows and under the sheets properly, facing each other. Leo had a little grin on his face, and I stroked his sharp jaw, feeling the stubble touching his smile. I ran my fingers through his hair, which made his eyes fall slowly shut. He whispered my name, and in that moment I felt possibly more connected to him than I had when we made love. My heart ached for him. I felt those three little words deep in my chest, beating inside me as clearly as my heart thumped at his every breath.
But I didn’t dare say them. I didn’t know what to do with the words, but I held them tight. When Leo pulled me close so that my head was nestled in his neck, I had this comforting sensation that he felt it, too. Then again, it might have just been a healthy dose of wishful thinking.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked me. I gave a little laugh. God, no way would tell him.
“Nothing,” I said. “You. Just wondering when you’re going to get tired of me.”
He kissed my forehead, his arm holding me close. “Never,” he said. I ran my hand over his stomach and ribs and squeezed him tight.
We talked for an hour. Not about anything special, just our lives. Leo told me he about the huge premiere he had coming up, and that he was concerned about critics’ responses to his latest film. I told him about Delaney and her custard empire, which made him laugh when I put it like that. He said, in a lazy way, that she should come to L.A. and open up a shop here. “We’ll fly her out,” he said, and that we got me again. I realized I was on the hunt for any little sign that he felt for me like I did for him. There were signs but they were small, and always I had Kait in my ear, convincing me that he said these things to all his girls.
In his bed that night, I pushed thoughts of Kait aside. I made plans with Leo—a new restaurant to try, an overnight trip to Catalina—and only once did I think about the ending. Or how he told me that, when he walks away, he doesn’t look back. We held each other close, and eventually, we fell sleep.
Chapter Fifteen
I stayed up late Sunday night to write my drive-in story. When I finished at three in the morning, I felt really proud of what I’d written. My first piece for Crush magazine, and it was a fun, flirty story about an old-fashioned date. Naturally, I left Leo’s name out of it, but I was sure it’d make the magazine’s readers want to try out movie-watching from the front seat of their cars—or the backseat, if the movie was boring.
I emailed it to Pam so she’d have it as soon as she arrived at work on Monday. I certainly didn’t want her having any new ammo on me by turning it in late, or even on time, considering what a bulldog she’d been about being the one to edit it. I was actually excited for her to read and edit it. I felt like I’d learned so much from Leo about writing and creating stories that, even though this was an article and not a story, I’d been able to use his insight to make it better. Plus, I welcomed Pam’s constructive criticism. Everyone said she was a really strong editor, and I wanted to be the best writer I could.
Monday morning I didn’t even make it to my desk before Kait was screaming my name, calling me into her office.
I stepped inside.
“Close the door,” she said, not looking at me. I did as she said, feeling an epic-sized boulder in my stomach.
“I went to the drive-in for my New Girl column this weekend,” I said, because surely that’s what she was pissed about.
“I know you did. And I bet I know who you took on that date,” she said, and slapped a print out on the desk in front of me. I picked it up and saw a dark, grainy photo of two people sitting inside a luxury sedan, parked at a drive-in movie theater.
“Is that you?” Kait asked. “It looks like you, and it’s definitely him, but those are not our clothes.”
Leo Armstrong Spotted With Mystery Woman. Who Is She?!
“Need I remind you that you are undercover?” Kait said. “If the paparazzi find out that you’re a writer with Crush magazine then the whole thing is over. Do you get that?”
“Yes,” I stammered, holding the picture in my shaking hands. The picture showed Leo looking me, smiling. It was right before he leaned across and kissed me. I had lost focus on the story and now the whole thing was about to blow up in my face. What if Leo had seen this? Would he think I was just with him for press?
Christ, I thought. Maybe I did have the two confused.
“I know you’ve been out with him in public, but that was to his places that he knows—and I know how people in this town can bribe anyone from a restaurant manager to the busboy to keep their mouths shut about their celebrity clients,” Kait continued. “But you took him to one of your places—and on assignment for the magazine. I can’t even begin to know what you were thinking. So what are we supposed to do with your drive-in story? Run it with this picture? Jesus, Sophie.” She sat back in her chair, exasperated.
“I’m sorry,” I began, and my voice was trembling. God, if I started crying…
“Your story is scrapped,” Kait said, swiftly, like the drop of the guillotine. “We need to know the impact of this photo. We’ll have to wait a couple of days to see if the press picks up on who you are because I guarantee you, they’re digging right now. You’re lucky you weren’t in your own car. Someone would have run your license plate through the DMV to find out. Not taking your own car is the only thing you did right.”
If she only knew. I couldn’t believe such a great night had turned out to be such a disaster. And what about Leo? My phone was in my bag at my feet and I was itching to check it, see if he’d texted me. I had to make sure he wasn’t mad about the photo—to see if he even knew about it. I also had to make sure I didn’t lose my job.
“I’ll fix it, I promise,” I said to Kait, but she quickly cut me off.
“I’m here to tell you how to fix it,” she said. “Get your phone out and text him right now.”
I didn’t dare tell her that’s exactly what I wanted to do. Except, of course, I would have preferred to do it alone in my cubicle. I hesitated for a moment before reaching down into my bag.
“Text this,” she began. “‘Still thinking about you. Dinner tonight, question mark. Your choice.’ You got that?”
I was sick to my stomach, but I wrote the words. My thumb hovered over Send. Maybe I could go back to my desk and write what I wanted to write. Ask him if he was okay, or maybe write a joke, like, The name is Nuwanda. He’d get it. I wouldn’t even have to remind him about Dalton from Dead Poets Society saying it.
I realized that Leo Armstrong and I had inside jokes now. That’s how close we’d become. Real close. True close. Not scamming-for-a-story close.
“Sophie,” Kait said, pulling me back. “Send it. Let me see.” She held out her hand like a teacher checking her student’s work. It was humiliating.
I didn’t want to lose my job, and really, the text was harmless. Just a check-in with Leo. So I hit Send and showed my phone to Kait.
“Good,” she said. “I want to know when he writes, where you’re going, and what he says. Understood?”
“Sure,” I said, completely defeated.
“Now go,” she said, and turned away from me.
When I got back to my desk, Pam was just walking away. She turned back when she saw me.
“There you are,” she said. “I was up early so I read your rough draft. I made a few marks and suggestions. Left it on your desk.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, letting the rough draft remark slide by. She knew it was the final version. “I think Kait is actually putting it on hold. For now, anyway.”
A tiny smirk crept up her mouth. “Yeah, I know. But I figured you could still use some help in the writing department. Better luck next time, kid,” she said, and walked away.
On my desk I found bloodied pages. She went old-school
with a red pen and everything. She’d crossed out half my lines and the ones she left had things like Really?? in the margins.
It was total crap. She may as well have taken her red pen and stabbed out my soul.
Next I got a visit from Alexa.
“So,” she said, “I guess you decided to take him to the movies after all, huh?”
Alexa had started to caution me about taking Leo on my New Girl date, but then had pulled back.
“I suppose I should have listened to you,” I said.
“Yeah. It’s so weird how the paparazzi just seem to know where to find the celebrities, isn’t it? Even when they’re at a totally new place.”
She looked so satisfied that I felt like I knew—she had made some phone call and told photographers where we’d be. Alexa had set me up.
I felt like everyone in the office was against me.
It wasn't until almost the end of the day that Leo texted me back.
My apt, 8.
That’s all it said. I had no idea if he knew about the paparazzi photo and if so, if he was mad about it. He couldn't be, right? He was photographed all the time with beautiful women. He couldn't avoid it. As long as he didn’t know who I really was, I was sure I’d be fine.
When I reported the night’s date at his place to Kait she didn’t look pleased or annoyed or anything. All business, out to get Leo Armstrong. I kind of wished she’d yell at me—the quiet fury terrified me.
“I assume his building has a doorman?” she asked.
“I think so,” I said. There’d been many uniformed people in the lobby each time I’d been there.
“Talk to him,” she said. “Doorman, concierge, whoever is there, or both. They surely haven’t signed confidentiality agreements. Get some dirt from them—how many different women he’s brought home, if he has several women at once, any women coming by late at night alone, someone who could be a prostitute. Oh, grow up,” she said, probably noticing the shocked look on my face at having to find out if Leo had prostitutes visiting his apartment. “I shouldn’t have to tell you to do these things. You should know to do them on your own. Don’t let us down, Sophie. Get the story.”
With that, I was dismissed.
Chapter Sixteen
I walked across the lobby of Leo’s apartment building later that evening in a yellow cotton sundress and flats of my own. Kait had thrust another cleavage-baring dress and sky-high stilettos at me, telling me the wear them tonight, but I’d left them in the backseat of my car. I didn’t want to wear her clothes anymore.
I stopped at the desk—they needed to unlock Leo’s private elevator to let me up once they’d okayed it with a quick call to him. As I waited for Ernie—the same guest manager, as he was called, who had been there on the other nights I’d come by—to call Leo, I drummed my fingers, trying to pull up the nerve to ask Ernie the questions Kait wanted answers to for the story. Part of me still wanted to do my job, and do it well. The other part of me was starting to think it was sort of gross to try to expose Leo, and for what? Dating other women? He was allowed to do that, just as I was allowed to see other men—if I knew any, or had any hint of desire. As it was, Leo was the only person who held any interest for me. He was all I could see.
As Ernie picked up the phone to call upstairs, I said, “I bet you’re doing this all the time for him, huh?” I gave a little laugh, like I was in on the joke.
Ernie held up a finger, and soon he was telling Leo that “Miss Adams” was there to see him. When he hung up and told me I could take the elevator, I gave it another try. “I bet I’m not the first girl to take this ride, am I right, Ernie?” I cringed, hearing myself. I was worthless. I wasn’t sure if I didn’t want to be a reporter, or if I didn’t want to be that kind of reporter.
“Have a good evening, miss,” Ernie said with a sweet smile, his lips firmly closed.
If I were Kait, I’d have him telling me all the girls’ names along with their date of birth and social security numbers. She was cutthroat. She was good.
The ride up in the elevator was nerve-wracking, wondering if Leo was angry about the photo getting out. One look at his face waiting for me down the hall told me the answer—no way.
“There she is,” he said, his grin as wide as ever, and I couldn't contain my own. My face instantly broke into smile at the mere thought of Leo these days. He was the anecdote to all bad things in life. I had to hold myself back from running straight into his arms, especially how gorgeously charming he looked in a dark gray T-shirt and jeans.
When I got to him, I threw my arms around his neck and pulled his body close to mine, holding him tight. His arms were around my waist, gently caressing.
“Bad day at work?” he asked, and I held him tighter. I didn’t want to talk about work. I felt disgusting for trying to press Ernie for dirt on Leo—however poorly I had done on that investigation. “You look beautiful,” he said, looking me over. “Temping must pay pretty well.” He kissed my lips, and I reached up quickly to touch his face, make the kiss last longer than a peck. I held him close, feeling the softness of his lips on mine, taking in the scent of him.
“Come on,” Leo said, gently letting me go. “I have good news.”
He led me across the expansive floors of his giant home, the beautiful nighttime view of Los Angeles flickering outside the windows. We went past the curving staircase to his office, where he sat me down on a button tufted brown leather sofa.
“Here,” he said, his tanned face beaming as he handed over a bonded stack of papers. That familiar cover page that said Untitled Armstrong. “It’s our screenplay,” he said. Our screenplay, I repeated in my head, as Leo continued. “It’s finished. The last round you sent me really got it where it needed to be. Sophie,” he said, sitting down next to me. “I’m going to make this movie, and it’s all thanks to you. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“I didn’t do much,” I said. “You’re the one who pushed me in the right direction.
“Don’t do that,” he said, taking my hand. He kissed my fingers, his breath warm on my skin. “Don’t deflect a compliment. You earned every bit of praise for this. I’m going to start casting this week.”
“Really? That fast?”
“Why not? I’ve been wanting to do this for some time, and now that the screenplay is completed I don’t want to wait any longer. I’m going to cast unknowns, film it under the radar and release it in a few months. Everyone will be shocked,” he laughed, “that shallow Leo Armstrong can make a movie with no aliens or car chases.”
“Don’t you do that,” I said, putting my other hand over his. “Don’t concern yourself with what other people think, and don’t diminish the movies you do make. You provide a great escapism for people, and God knows we all need that from time to time.”
“How’d I get so lucky to find you?” he said. He held my chin delicately in his fingers, and pulled my bottom lip down with his thumb. He leaned into me and gently pressed his lips to mine, sliding his hands across my face. He held me there as he kissed me softly at first, and then more deeply until the taste of him had me yearning for more, so quickly. Truthfully, all it took from Leo was a look and I was a goner. When he kissed me, I had no hope of resisting. I ran my hands over his strong chest, feeling the muscles beneath his T-shirt before moving to his arms, flexing as he moved his hands across my shoulders and back. He pulled me into him, our chests pressed together, our breath already heavy with desire. I delighted in my tongue on his, tasting him, feeling him on me.
“Sophie Adams, you don’t know what you do to me,” he said before crushing his lips back into mine. I kissed him back, but the sound of my fake name had caught me off-guard once again. I took his chiseled jaw in my hands and moved away, both of us panting. When he moved to go back to my lips, I pushed him back. He gave me a curious look and I answered by sliding away from him, slightly, keeping my hands on his handsome face. He dipped toward me again, his lips eager for mine, but I nudged away again, and this time I s
lid back into the arm of the couch, just out of his reach.
His eyes gleamed with desire as he watched me. When he reached out for me, I moved my leg up, pushing his hand back with the toe of my shoe.
“Not yet,” I said, and a low growl came from Leo. I’d never had someone so attracted to me—in so many different ways—that he actually growled without even touching me. I slipped my shoes off, letting them drop to the floor, and then I pulled the hem of my skirt up to just below my hips. Leo’s eyes were transfixed, his lips parted and his skin flushed, all at the sight of me. “Show me what I make you want to do,” I said. He let out a moan and practically lunged for me, but I stopped him again. “No. Stay on your side. All the way back.” He reluctantly sat back against the opposite arm of the couch, one leg on the floor, the other bent in front of him. I opened up my legs and reached between my thighs, rubbing the outside of my panties. His bright eyes stared hypnotized as I made slow, deliberate circles around my clit.
“You are so sexy,” he said, his eyes fixed on my crotch. “You expect me to sit here and keep my hands to myself?”
“I expect you to keep your hands on yourself,” I said, and I had not idea where the bravery came from. I’d certainly never done anything like that before. All I knew was that I wanted to keep my eyes firmly on Leo and watch his every lustful expression.
“Take off those sweet little panties,” he said.
“Take off your clothes,” I countered. He didn’t even hesitate, standing up and quickly discarding his shoes, socks, shirt and jeans onto the floor beside him. He took his place back at the end of the couch, never once taking his eyes off me. I never stopped the slow movements of my hand on my crotch. I could feel through the thin fabric how wet I was as I ran my fingers down my slit, the walls of my pussy aching.
Leo stroked the outside of his boxer briefs, clasping the huge bulge of his dick in his palm.
“Sophie,” he said, his eyes heavy. I watched with fascination as the muscles in his arm moved and flexed in time with his hand stroking his dick. “Now you. Take off your clothes.”