by C. J. Anaya
Midge hadn’t cared about who he was or how much money he had, which meant any interest she showed in him would be genuine. So how was he going to attract her interest? He didn’t even know where she lived?
“I know Felicia is most definitely my responsibility, but repairing the damage she’s inflicted also falls under my jurisdiction. This TV series is going to be good for you. With any luck, you’ll actually meet the right girl and use that sparkling personality of yours to charm America in the process. This is a win-win.”
“Gregg, I really don’t want to do the show. I was in panic mode when I agreed to this idea. Finding love on TV where women are most likely there to further their acting careers sounds pathetic and desperate. As far as my personality goes, its more snarky than sparkly. Midge was right when she said I’d look like an idiot.”
“I seem to remember her wording it a bit differently than you.” Gregg’s look was sly. “That’s why editing is going to come in handy. The director can chop and cut as he pleases to maneuver you in the best light. I’m telling you, Brody, you need a fiancé and you need one soon. We have to nip this in the bud before America permanently sees you the way Felicia has painted you.”
Brody would have rather been drowned in a sea of blind dates than be the star of Marry Your Billionaire. This dating series, where numerous females spent weeks vying for some coveted engagement ring as he slowly got to know them and then callously eliminated them one by one was like some game show gone wrong.
It wasn’t like he was narrowing it down to his favorite flavor of ice cream. At the end of the series, they fully expected him to find “the one” and propose. He’d look like the playboy the media had pegged him for if he didn’t marry one of them, and he wasn’t about to marry for his image’s sake.
He looked up to find Gregg studying him.
“What?” Brody barked.
“What did you think of her?”
Brody swallowed hard. “I think it took me everything I had to allow her to walk away from me. Around her it felt like I was breathing fresh air for the first time.”
Gregg nodded. “Well, that was poetic. Sickeningly so. I can’t say I’m not thrilled about it. I’ve been waiting a long time for someone to turn that jaded head of yours, but it couldn’t have come at a worse time or with a worse female. Did you really have to bait her like that? You came across just as shallow as the tabloids have stated.”
“I couldn’t resist. The way her green eyes flashed and her cheeks flushed every time she got rattled was awesome. Her face is so expressive. Don’t you think?“
“I think, not only is she not impressed with you, she’s not the least bit interested in you. She wasn’t exactly subtle about that.”
“Then I can only improve upon further inspection. Correct?”
“Theoretically. There is that snarky personality of yours to contend with. You plan on wooing the lady? You’re actually going to make an effort when it comes to dating?”
“I plan on sweeping her off her feet, turning her world upside down, and laying bare my heart while winning hers in the process.”
Gregg smirked. “You’re a hopeless romantic, you know that? How a sappy guy like you has managed to stay single for the past ten years is absolutely beyond me.” He leaned forward, and his intense energy caused the table to lurch a bit with his movement. “You have a meeting with the producer of the series in a little over an hour. What exactly do you plan on telling him?”
Brody furiously scrubbed his fist into the side of his head, a nervous habit he was convinced helped him think better. “I’m out. I’m done.” Gregg let out another agonized moan. “Even if I did decide to continue on with this ridiculous rat race, I’d never be able to focus now that Midge has jumped onto my radar.”
Brody watched as Gregg took a moment to accept this drastic game changer. He sighed in frustration and then finally nodded his acknowledgment.
“And then?”
“We’re going to track down that mousy librarian.”
Gregg let out a rueful chuckle. “How many hours of sleep is that going to cost me?”
“Cost me, you mean? You’re an insomniac anyway. Neither one of us is sleeping until Midge has agreed to a first date with me.”
“So let it be written…” Gregg intoned dramatically while fisting a hand to his chest.
Brody’s grin broadened and he made a similar gesture, wondering if the longing he had previously felt was what made his chest ache as he gently touched it with his fist.
“So let it be done.”
Chapter Two
Midge seethed and mumbled under her breath as she headed further into LA, doing her utmost to avoid her propensity for reckless driving whenever her flaring temper got the better of her.
She failed miserably.
If she were honest with herself, Brody Prescott had managed to ruffle her usually unflappable composure. Their conversation had her fuming one minute and then wondering how his hair might feel if she ran her fingers through it the next.
The last thing she needed to be was another notch on that man’s exceptionally long belt.
She prided herself on her cool head and her ability to respond logically no matter the situation she found herself in. One too many scenes and manic meltdowns from her actress mother, and Midge had quickly learned that if she wanted her father or anyone else to take her seriously then she needed to be the exact opposite of the woman who’d given birth to her.
As far as childhoods went, Midge couldn’t say hers was either good or bad, simply unusual. Her mother played the put-upon socialite whenever situations demanded her parental insights—for which she had zero—and then she managed to completely transform into the doting mommy whenever fashion, hairstyles or boys came into the picture. Once her mother realized that Midge preferred casual, sensible clothing like jeans, t-shirts, and Converse shoes, considered boys to be an epic waste of time, and had no desire to smear chemicals all over her sensitive skin, her mother gave up all hope of turning her daughter into a big named actress and slithered away to her bedroom where she’d spent the majority of her time drinking and reminiscing about her glory days. That is, until her final melt down occurred. Midge didn’t really want to think about that.
Her father generally had bigger fish to fry, but insisted Midge learn the art of film production in order to become his partner in the company when she reached an appropriate age. She reveled in the attention afforded to her whenever her father was available. She found that the best way to share in his life was to insert herself into every aspect of his career.
From the time she was six, Midge and her father had been inseparable. The more she questioned him about his work the more attention she received. It was the only way to relate to the overachieving work-aholic, and she hadn’t minded it one bit until adolescence kicked in and other worlds opened up to her. Eventually, she decided to pursue a career in writing.
To say that Mr. Knightly was shocked by this abrupt change in plans was the understatement of the century. Never once understanding his daughter’s motivation for delving into the family business in the first place, he played the wounded victim while Angelica, their house maid and Midge’s surrogate mother, scrubbed the house with a vengeance, asking the patron saint of broken families to hurry and do something about this particular family—all in Spanish, of course.
Her father threatened to take away her trust fund and any and all support if she refused to join the family business.
Hurt and betrayed beyond anything she had ever before experienced, Midge gladly relinquished all claim to her trust fund, packed a few bags, and stormed out of the house, having absolutely no idea how she was going to fund her dream without her father’s help. Receiving news of a scholarship a few days later had been nothing short of a miracle, helping her with tuition and housing. Six years later, she had reached every goal she ever set and would soon graduate with the degrees and accolades she wanted. Her life was perfect.
Perfect.
Her father’s request for a meeting left her feeling queasy. Their relationship had remained rather unstable after she set out on her own, but he generally made an effort to speak with her on the phone during Christmas and on her birthday—all scheduled through his secretary as if the man couldn’t pick up his own cell phone and call her like any normal, half-way decent parent.
It hurt.
For six years this break from her father had pained her more than anything she had ever experienced, and she missed him. She missed the dinners they’d shared, the adventures they’d gone on together while filming in strange and exotic locations all over the world, the late nights discussing his latest project, current visions, or the politics and gossip of the industry.
She’d never considered herself a brave individual, but with her father by her side she’d felt virtually invincible, attempting new things and moving out of her comfort zone whenever he suggested she try something in the industry such as singing, dancing, film, and writing classes.
She’d done it for him. To share in his life the only way she knew how, but her father had never understood how difficult it was for her to make friends or even keep them, and dating had been an absolute nightmare. No one was ever really interested in Madelyn Knightly. They were interested in how their connection to Madelyn Knightly gave them an advantage with her father.
Those writing classes had been the one thing that managed to give her a voice. To set her apart as Madelyn Knightly and not Corbin Knightly’s daughter. She’d found who she was while creating compelling characters and developing complex plots and story lines with themes that forced her to form her own opinions and solve her own problems. The possibility that she might have her own projects, ideas, and individual choices kept her grounded in an environment she felt certain she could rely on. In her stories, the good guys won and the bad guys were vanquished. Maybe real life couldn’t play out like a fairy tale, but creating words on a page gave her the freedom to rewrite the outcome of tangible wrongs. It wasn’t all sunflowers and rainbows, but her stories played out exactly how she wanted and needed them to.
That kind of control appealed to her.
Not necessarily something Corbin Knightly had been grooming her for.
And then that reprobate of a billionaire had to ruin her mojo and the serenity of Café Canapé by reintroducing her former life to her and reminding her of everything she’d given up so very long ago.
She felt violated, tainted…and Heaven help her slightly curious. What kind of reality TV show did Brody Prescott feel desperate enough to debase himself on? Why, for Heaven’s sake? He could easily find a sensible girl to steadily date until the media found something else to gnaw at.
Of course, it seemed clearer than glass that the type of girl he desperately needed in his life was not the type of girl he actually wanted.
Like she cared!
Midge furiously pushed all thoughts of Brody Prescott and his devilish good looks to a far recess of her mind, promising herself upon pain of death she wouldn’t give one more consequential moment of her precious time to that conceited, idiotic, egotistical, charming, intriguing…gah!
About thirty minutes later, Midge pulled into the spacious parking lot of her father’s film production building of which he owned several. It was safe to say that Corbin Knightly had made quite a name for himself in the filming industry. His accomplishments varied in their size, scope, and subject matter, but every single project always ended in one outrageous success after another.
After several years of a successful career in blockbuster movies, he had decided reality TV was the new wave of entertainment and wasted no time in sticking his green thumb into the competitive scene, quickly making a name for himself in that industry as well.
Midge jumped out of her car, squared her shoulders, and tilted her chin to an appropriate battle-ready level. She would not be intimidated by a face-to-face discussion with a father who couldn’t be bothered to visit her at her own apartment even though it was located less than an hour away. She looked at her watch and swallowed hard.
Late. If she hadn’t been so distracted by that seat-stealing billionaire she would have made it back to her apartment to grab a few necessary items for her classes later that evening before the bad traffic hit.
Upon entering the building, the frosty air from the silent central cooling system tickled the back of her neck, drying a line of sweat that had made its way down her back. After all this time she might have tried to give herself a pep talk when it came to her father, but in the end all she really desired was his approval. The fact that she didn’t have it anymore made this meeting all the more nerve wracking.
Midge approached the receptionist—a young girl with a cheesy smile plastered across her face—and gave her a syrupy sweet smile of her own.
“Do you have an appointment?” she asked.
Midge prevented herself from grinding her teeth. “Unfortunately, I do. Would you please inform Mr. Knightly that his daughter is here?”
The young girl’s face drained of color. “Oh, I am so sorry, Ms. Knightly. I’ve never met you so I didn’t know…”
Midge held her hand up, trying to calm the frazzled girl down while wondering what had caused her to become so undone in the first place.
“Not a big deal. I never come here if I don’t have to, so how would you know who I am?”
The relieved expression on the intern’s face made Midge want to slap her father. Was he incapable of being decent to any of the people who worked under him? The poor girl looked terrified.
“I’ll…I’ll show you right in,” she stammered.
“Thank you.”
“I’ll sue,” Corbin Knightly threatened again as Brody let out a tired sigh.
“Corbin, I’ve already told you I will reimburse you for this little set back.”
“Little set back?” Knightly looked like he might spontaneously combust. “We’ll have to change everything about the show. The marketing, the girls, the locations, the dates, the entire theme. I can’t just whip all of this together and still plan on having a show ready to shoot two months from now!”
“You mean to tell me there’s no plan B? Weren’t you considering other billionaires for this show?”
“The only other billionaire who is dealing with as much scandal as you at the moment is Alexander Montgomery, and there’s no way I can shift the focus of the show onto him before the first of June.”
Brody felt a little sick at the thought of any of the contestants having to deal with the advances of Alexander Montgomery. The guy was a scumbag disguised in tailored Armani suits. He didn’t have a problem sharing every sordid detail of his many conquests with anyone interested in listening.
“Look, if you have to push production back until the fall, I will happily pay for every financial loss you incur because of it.”
“You may be a billionaire, but you’re crazy if you think this won’t set you back financially, and I’ll drag your name through the mud while my lawyers have a field day with you in court.”
Brody let out a few curses under his breath. All of Gregg’s predictions were coming true. He really hated it when his assistant was right.
“Do you plan on telling me why you’ve decided my show isn’t good enough for you when the benefits of this exposure for you and your business are positively exponential? Don’t be an idiot, Prescott. Pull your head out of your arse and have a little pow-wow with that weird assistant of yours. There’s no way Gregg is backing you up on this.”
For a few moments, Brody doubted the wisdom of his decision when faced with the consequences of being sued by Knightly. He hadn’t expected the man to be so pissed off. He thought if he flashed the offer of a few hundred thousand dollars in his face, the guy would give in and take the pay-out. Apparently, Knightly was the type to take things personally. The lawsuit could get drawn out and very ugly. Brutal. How would he have time to chase after Midge if he was embroiled in a messy lawsuit? How would h
e even have time to find her? But what else could he do? He absolutely could not get that girl out of his head.
“Mr. Knightly, your daughter is here to see you,” came the harried voice from the intercom atop the expansive desk.
Brody thought the little receptionist a bit jumpy, though he wondered if the intimidating figure of Corbin Knightly had anything to do with it.
“Late,” Mr. Knightly muttered. “She’s doing it on purpose. As if I didn’t have enough to deal with thanks to you.” Knightly stood up in an angry huff. “I need to go get a few things squared away with my daughter, though my conversation with her may not matter if you’re hell bent on screwing everything up. I’ll give you ten minutes to think very carefully about your next course of action.” Knightly strode around his desk and headed toward the door. He paused before turning to look at Brody. “Just remember, Brody, Felicia Davenport may have put a slight dent in your armor, but I’ll completely pulverize it for the simple satisfaction it will afford me if you don’t get your head in the game ASAP.”
Knightly’s threats and the sinking sensation in the pit of Brody’s stomach laid waste to his former plans of getting out of his contract unscathed.
Knightly gave him one last menacing look before turning back to the side door that must have led into another office. The moment the door opened, Brody heard the most beautiful sound in the world.
“Hello, Dad,” came a forcefully cheerful greeting from within the hidden depths of the adjacent room.
Brody thought his ears were playing tricks on him. It sounded like…no way. No chance he was that lucky.
Knightly walked through the door, and it began to close behind him. Brody, never one to dismiss Serendipity when she blatantly threw herself in his face, stealthily rushed to the door and placed the toe of his shoe right in front of the edge of its corner, leaving it open a tiny sliver, just enough for him to hear the conversation within and to sneak a quick glance at the young lady before her father’s bulk got in the way.