Sex tape.
Hell, if she’d kept it up, she would have become one of those women famous for nothing but being famous.
Instead, she was sitting here, pushing a button on a slot machine.
“Excuse me, ma’am.” Stasia turned to find a guy about her age, wearing a goddamn Time Phantom T-shirt, staring at her. “If you’re done with the machine, do you mind moving?”
She frowned at him. First of all, she was not old enough for ma’am. Second, she was still pushing the stupid button. “I’m not done.”
“Then you might want to put more money in. You’ve been running on empty for at least the five minutes I’ve been waiting on the machine.”
She blinked, staring at the machine. 0 credits.
How long had she been sitting here wallowing? “What time is it?” She stood from the stool, waving the guy toward it.
“Around three. Thanks.”
She’d been at the machine for two hours. How many of those had been pushing a button for no reason, as if waiting for credits to appear like magic? “No. Thank you.”
She was done with the casino. It was time to eat something ridiculously decadent—drown her sorrows in chocolate. Then she needed to track down Alice, find a new dress, have Michael doll her up, and get ready to walk into hell.
She had four hours left to figure out how to deal with everything.
No problem.
…
Stasia was gone when he woke in the morning. Her suitcase was still there, fully packed—waiting for her to grab it and go after the party—but she was gone. Off to do all the hair and makeup and other things he’d arranged to pamper her for the day. The last day of their fake engagement. The day he was supposed to say good-bye to her.
No matter how angry she’d been the night before, he wasn’t sure he could walk away from her. And he sure as hell wasn’t sure he could make it through today, not with her as good as gone already.
It didn’t matter if he ignored all the clothes she left in the closet. Everywhere he looked, he saw memories of her—talking, kissing, snuggling, fucking. He couldn’t think of it in terms of love, not now.
Thinking about it at all had his gut twisting in knots. He’d been so sure she was the one, that somehow they’d find a way to work things out. Now, without her here—worse, knowing she’d walk away forever in mere hours—he didn’t know what to do with himself. He felt hollow, like someone had scooped out his heart and crushed it as he watched.
When Paige had left him to follow her own Hollywood dream, it had hurt, but he’d been angry. She’d lied to him and betrayed what they had.
That didn’t even compare to Stasia. She’d been the first woman he’d let get a glimpse inside—the first one he’d wanted to open up to entirely. He used to laugh when people talked about soul mates and meeting their other half, but he understood now. It wasn’t just his heart that was missing, the loss was too big for something so small. He’d lost half himself when she’d turned away from him, and he didn’t know how the hell he was supposed to become whole again.
Scrubbing at his face, he flopped onto the couch and stared out the window at the Strip below. He loved Vegas, the energy and possibility of the place, but now, it felt hollow and fake. Like any moment the veil would be yanked back and someone would shout about ignoring the man behind the curtain. There were no quick fixes here, no granting of wishes, no magical items to get things where they should be.
Evan wanted to drink himself into a stupor—erase thoughts of Stasia with too much booze and dreamless sleep. But it wouldn’t solve anything. He’d wake up with a monster headache, and she’d still be gone.
It didn’t matter what he wanted, though. What he needed was a big dose of normal.
Tugging his phone from his pocket, he also inadvertently yanked out the ring. It soared through the air to land on the carpet a few yards away. Far enough to be out of reach, close enough he saw every sparkle. Turning away, he punched in Vicky’s number. They talked regularly, but two calls in two days while he was working would be one hell of a surprise.
“This came sooner than expected.” Her voice was calm, bored even. “I take it you decided. So, who wins the bet? Me or Mom?”
Or maybe not such a surprise after all. “I didn’t have to decide. She did it for me.”
“Shit. I owe Mom fifty bucks.” She huffed a sigh. “Let me guess, she took off with the ring?”
He stared as lights danced on the surface of the diamond. “Nope. I have the ring. She apparently didn’t share my feelings.”
“Wait a minute.” Vicky paused and something clattered in the background. “So you do love her?”
The word cut like a razorblade—deep and so painful he winced, clutching the phone tighter. “Yeah, but it doesn’t matter.”
“Like hell. And you said she gave back the ring?”
Evan couldn’t stand looking at the thing. He grabbed a pillow and tossed it, blocking the sparkle from view. “Again, yes.”
“So, what did you say to drive her off? Because, somehow, unless she’s really not into you, I don’t see how ‘I think I might be in love with you’ would garner that extreme a reaction.”
Maybe this call had been a mistake. “I didn’t exactly tell her. I sang a couple love songs at karaoke.”
Laughter echoed over the line. “Are you kidding? What are you, sixteen? Why don’t you burn her a mix CD, too?”
“Thanks, sis. Big help.” He plucked at a loose thread on the cushion. “It doesn’t matter, though. She got the message and responded with a resounding no thank you.”
“And then?”
“And then we got in a fight.”
More clattering in the background before Vicky said, “Let me get this straight. You arranged to fake an engagement with this chick to help her do what exactly?”
“Her ex left her publicly. She wanted revenge—she wanted to make him jealous so he’d come running back and she could dump him.”
“O…kay. I want to make sure I understand. You pretend to be her fiancé to get her ex to react. Whatever. But you’re somehow shocked she had a fight with you? Wouldn’t that be part of the plan? Otherwise, no man, ex or not, would think he had a chance in hell of getting a woman back if she’s dating a Hollywood A-lister.”
Vicky just didn’t get it. This wasn’t about the stupid plan. “Yes, but she was actually mad. I could see it in her eyes. Then she asked why I was doing all this, and I told her about you and how I hadn’t been able to help you through your divorce. That helping her was like helping you.”
“Oh boy. First off, you told the woman you just sang love songs to that she was a replacement for your sister. That’s a creep factor of I don’t know what. Secondly, fuck you.”
“What?” He jolted, yanking the thread until it snapped.
“I can’t speak for her, but I didn’t need you to help me through my divorce. I needed me. You might have held my hand and let me cry on your shoulder, but you know what that really amounts to? Me leaning on another man. I got through my split by learning to stand on my own. That means you feeling guilt over me or pity for her makes you a first-class jackass. She doesn’t need you, and if she wanted you, you probably just shoved her away so hard you’ll never get her back.”
“I—”
“Do not interrupt me right now. You might be a movie star, but you aren’t a god, Evan. Stop trying to turn life into one of your movies; it doesn’t work that way. Clearly, throwing around money and influence aren’t getting you what you want out of life. Maybe try being the guy who didn’t make varsity football all through school. Or better yet, the one who couldn’t get a date to prom senior year? You know, that guy you try so hard to hide from the public eye. He’s a human being, and human beings feel things. They don’t just pretend to when the cameras are rolling.”
“You don’t get it, Vicky. She knows that guy. For the first time in the history of ever, I showed him to someone, but when I explained why we’d have to hide things
for a couple years so I could get you and Mom solidly on your feet—”
“Oh my fucking God, you did not.” When he didn’t respond, she screamed into the phone. “Evan Stone, you… There aren’t even words for you right now. You say you love this woman, and then tell her building up your family’s bank accounts is more important than her? In the aftermath of all that other stupidity you spewed? Mom and I are fine. We will make it with or without your help. It’s what we do. If I told Mom how stupid you’ve been since we talked last, she’d be on a plane to Vegas to beat you senseless.”
“But the house—”
“Is worth a shit ton of money. If you quit acting today and never gave her another dime, she’d be fine. She’d sell the house and move somewhere less expensive. She hates the fucking heat here, anyway. You’re a self-centered, stupid, ridiculous man.”
His mouth dropped open, ready to return her fuck you, but he couldn’t give voice to the words.
“Good. Stunned you silent.” Vicky heaved a sigh. “Look, I love you. I didn’t mean the last bit. I think you are one of the best guys in the whole world, but you blew it with this chick. If someone had pulled this with me after my divorce, I would have walked away after setting fire to everything of theirs I could get my hands on. I want you happy, Evan, so I hope next time you find someone who might be the one you learn from your mistakes. Because, eventually, you’re going to meet the right woman, and I don’t want you to screw it up. I have to go. I hope the premiere goes well.”
Go? “Where…?”
“I have a date. I even baked cookies in case we came back here for coffee after our picnic lunch. It probably won’t turn into anything serious, but it’s time for me to get out and start taking chances again. Like I said, life isn’t the movies. I’m not going to randomly run into Mr. Right in the produce aisle like that stupid rom-com you did a few years back.”
Like he hadn’t randomly met Mrs. Right over an email exchange. “Yeah. Have…fun, and thanks.”
If he’d felt hollow before, it was nothing compared to the emptiness now. He’d done this. He’d been the one to drive Stasia away. It didn’t matter if he’d been trying to do all the right things, not if he’d hurt her the way Vicky said he had.
Which made him a bigger tool than Travers. Maybe he didn’t deserve Stasia, either. Maybe she’d be better off without either of them in her life.
But he couldn’t believe it, not when just thinking about her started to make him feel a little more whole. He needed her in his life like he needed air to breathe.
He dropped the phone and stared at the pillow he’d thrown. In a movie, Stasia would have shown up right then, picked up the pillow, and put the ring back on her finger. Romances always had happy endings.
Love stories usually didn’t.
And if Vicky was right about how badly he’d screwed up, this clearly wasn’t a romance.
Getting Stasia back wasn’t going to be nearly so simple as her just returning to him, but there had to be a way. He had until midnight to find it.
Chapter Fifteen
The premiere had been horrible. Not because of the movie—that was actually better than she’d hoped. Evan’s comment about awards season might not have been quite as far-fetched as she had originally thought. They’d still have to overcome the genre bias, but it had been done before a few times.
No, the experience was hell because she had been there with Evan, and Paul had been a row away. Too much tension in too small a space.
Paul kept casting glances toward them, and Stasia couldn’t tell if the new strain between her and Evan had become obvious. With the two of them still on duty for the cameras, she forced herself to stand closer, not to move away when Evan rested his hand on the small of her back. The urge to sink into his touch was still too strong, and it made her want to cry. The fairy tale ended in a few short hours, but she wasn’t sure if she could make it.
As soon as they were away from the other cast members, Evan leaned close. “We need to talk.”
No. There would be no more talking. No more pretending there was some magical world where he could have what he wanted and her on the side. She wasn’t that girl, not anymore.
Thankfully, Marcus Nightbridge strode up, giving her time to figure a way out of the conversation. He clasped Evan’s hand. “My boy, no one could have pulled this film off except you. If you haven’t signed the contract for the rest of the Time Phantom movies, I’d suggest holding off a week or two and making sure your new salary takes into account the kind of buzz you’re going to generate. I will happily work with you any day of the week.”
Evan’s voice was tight, eyes still locked on Stasia, when he said, “Thank you. It was an honor working with you.” And if she’d said yes to his plan, it would be one more film delaying the imaginary future he had suggested—another year before they could really be together. No matter how much it hurt, she’d made the right decision. She couldn’t be with him halfway. While he and Marcus finished talking, Stasia clenched her hands into fists, her nails pressing half-moons into her palms. Then Evan was by her side again as they were ushered toward the waiting limos. “You can’t avoid me once we’re in the car.”
No, but she had a better shield than that. “This is a conversation you want to have sitting with Jessica and Tom and their spouses? Really?”
He didn’t say a word, but by the time they pulled away from the curb, frustration was etched on his face. She didn’t care. He’d said all he needed to last night—so had she. It was time to finish their script and go home. She couldn’t handle more than that.
As soon as they were in the ballroom, though, Evan drew her aside. “Babe, please. You need to hear me out.”
Every muscle in her body went tight—all the stress of her life roaring back just by being alone with him. “No. You have a job to do here. Remember? That’s what matters most to you.”
“Stasia—”
She plastered a smile on her face and stepped into the hall to embrace Jane and Ophelia. At least by giggling with his co-stars she’d have a veil of security. He wouldn’t make a scene to drag her away and try to talk to her again. Now, she only had to make it through the party, and she’d be home free. In minutes, Evan would be too busy to worry about her, and she could pretend to enjoy herself. Mourning the loss of him would come once she was safely ensconced at home.
Moments later, the cast was called away to be officially introduced, and Stasia was blissfully alone. As much as she liked the people she’d met, she’d had enough of mingling this week to last her a lifetime. A band was setting up on the far end of the room, and most attendees were wandering near the stage in an attempt to figure out who was playing. She didn’t care, as long as the music kept people busy and happy. For herself, she still hadn’t completed the eat-her-feelings portion of getting through the day—indulging in too much chocolate had been almost six hours ago. Buffet tables lined the walls, and she made her way toward them, nervously smoothing down the chiffon overlay of her gown.
A very exhausted Alice had been more than a bit confused about her returning both gowns she’d purchased with Evan, but she’d helped Stasia find a new one—one she could afford and was comfortable in. For starters, it was floor length, so she wouldn’t have to fight the urge to keep tugging on the hem. Plus, it made her feel like a princess with one shoulder tacked up by little more than black chiffon. She’d still wondered if the new dress left her a little too bare, but once she put it on, she realized how strong she felt. She didn’t need Evan to make it through this gauntlet, and she certainly wasn’t going to hide in something mousy.
Not from him.
Not from Paul.
Not from anyone.
Oddly enough, somewhere along the way, she’d found not only her strength, but her dignity, too. This wasn’t just Evan’s night. This was her debut as a strong, single woman. No more disappearing behind clothes or sorrow or…anything. She’d remembered how to live and have fun this week; she wasn’t going to for
get again.
Even if fun was off the menu for tonight.
Stasia shook herself and took a flute of champagne from a passing tray. Taking a sip, she smiled. Tonight was fake-it-till-you-make-it-through-the-door. She was leaving with her head held high.
The band started, and she recognized the tune. One of the highlights of the film had been music from her favorite band, Trigger Happy. Apparently, the studio had pulled out all the stops on this party, because they were performing. She found herself swaying to the music as she reached the buffet table, taking a plate and filling it with finger foods.
She’d barely made it back to a table and set her snack down before the song ended and Paul took the stage. He gave a loud introduction to the band and launched into his spiel about The Game Maker. Stasia drowned him out about a dozen words in.
“I never realized how much he loved the spotlight,” Lissa’s voice startled her, and she turned to find the blonde parked next to her at the table, cucumber slices on her plate. Gone were the dull sack dresses. The one she wore nearly covered her from neck to knee, leaving only her arms bare, but it was crimson and hugged her body like a second skin. The model was back.
“It’s more that he loves to hear himself talk.” Stasia wasn’t sure what this meeting of the minds portended, but she wasn’t about to start biting her tongue.
“Most important person in the room—even if the room belongs to someone else.” Lissa sighed and gave a wan smile. “Thank you.”
“For?”
“For making me open my eyes. I’m beyond sorry for my part in what we did to you. The way Paul talked about you, I expected you to be some man-hating shrew who carried the balls of her past lovers in her purse.”
Stasia blinked and stuffed a canapé into her mouth so she could use the time chewing to formulate a response. Swallowing, she shook her head. “I can honestly say the only balls I’ve ever carried in my purse did belong to a male. A male Rottweiler whose affection for tennis balls knew no bounds.”
Lissa laughed, covering her mouth as if embarrassed for being so loud. “It’s no excuse, but I am sorry.”
Tempting Her Fake Fiance Page 17