by A. C. Arthur
“Everyone already knows that my family connections are what got me this job, Parker. I really don’t need them to think I’m getting even more favors, like the producer of the show coming down to get me out of a day’s work,” she said the moment the door was closed.
She’d moved to a chair and grabbed some clothes and then went into the bathroom and closed the door before he could respond.
“Did you see how Tyler looked at me when you stepped between us?” she continued.
Parker, on the other hand, was simply listening to her, while walking around the room seeing the bits and pieces of her and becoming even more intrigued. There was a couch and a dressing table, a huge mirror, a rack full of outfits. They were for the show, he noted, as he pushed through the garments, remembering seeing her in a couple of them as he’d watched on the sixty-inch flat screen in his bedroom every Monday night.
What the hell was he doing?
Dragging a hand down his face Parker felt like a veil had just been lifted, clearing his vision once and for all. He turned around, seeing the room once again, but this time from the professional stand-point, the place where he should have been all along. He was the producer of this show. His family owned this studio and the Excalibur Business Center and a number of other businesses and buildings throughout the continental U.S. He could get any woman that he wanted. Hell, his mother and all her not-so-subtle hints could have him set up with blind dates for the next six months, all he had to do was say the word. So why was he stalking this one?
With a shake of his head, he dismissed the stalking word from his mind and cleared his throat.
“I just stopped by to see how things were going,” he said, realizing then that she was still in the bathroom. “The ratings are still soaring so I wanted to make sure everyone was still on point.”
There was total silence and then he thought he heard her sigh, but wasn’t sure with a couple of feet and a door between them.
“I’ll talk to Giovanni and square things with him,” Parker said moving closer to the still closed bathroom door. “Nobody will think you’re getting preferential treatment, Adriana. I’ll make sure of that.” And whoever was stupid enough to so much as mumble anything differently would find themselves in the unemployment line.
“No,” she replied hastily.
The door opened quickly and she stood very close to it, looking up at him with eyes that struck him in that moment as extremely sad. Had they looked that way earlier?
“Don’t say anything to anyone. Just leave, please,” she continued. “And maybe, I mean, I know you’re the boss, but if you could not come around so much…um, that might help too.”
She was still standing in the bathroom, her body leaning against the door so that there was only half a view of her and the jeans and t-shirt she’d changed into. On her feet were running shoes in a really shocking shade of lavender, turquoise laces still untied. He almost smiled, but looked into her eyes once more.
“You’re doing a terrific job,” he told her because something in the way she was looking at him said she needed to hear that. “I’ll go now, but I wanted you to know that. I’m sure your family will be very proud.”
Her response was a nod, hair falling over a slim shoulder before she whispered, “Thank you,” and backed away, once again closing the door on him.
Parker could have stayed there. He could have continued to talk to her, to simply be near her, which—to his dismay—he still had a very strong urge to do. He could also march out to that lot and threaten to fire anyone that was giving her a hard time. He knew instinctively that neither was a good idea. And is if a higher being were lending a hand to insure he did the right thing, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. When he slipped it out to look at the screen he was reminded of somewhere he had to be.
Looking back at the bathroom door, where he figured she’d chosen to hide from him, Parker simply shook his head instead of saying anything else. He walked out of her dressing room telling himself he would never go in there again, regardless of the fact that he owned the damned place. He would respect her wishes and he would keep his distance.
That was probably best. For both of them.
Chapter 2
She was a fool.
Adriana knew this and so did not need all the constant reminders. Yet, there they were each and every day, arriving as if on some sort of demented schedule, to slap her in the face.
The moment she heard the outer door open and close again, she emerged from the bathroom, leaving every bit of her pride in there on the floor with that damned sheet she’d been so embarrassed to be seen in. Not by the world, no, she was more than ecstatic about having the opportunity to play the part of Serena DuKane on what was currently the number one drama on television. Two years ago when she’d finally decided that her time as the fresh face of fashion was about to run out, pursuing her life-long dream of acting had been the logical next step. Her mother, Beatriz di Carriero, had always told her to have a plan. A goal that she wanted to set her sights on and to reach as long and as hard as she could until she accomplished it. That advice, coming from the crown princess of the tiny Brazilian town of Pirata, had been like a mantra to the oldest Bennett daughter.
Her father, on the other hand, Marvin Bennett, a sensible and hard-working man who had worked his way up from manager at a local fast food chain to build Bennett Industries, one of the largest African American owned communications companies in the world, had had more simplistic advice for his daughter. “Be happy. Love life. And tell me about anybody stupid enough to hurt you.”
The memory had Adriana smiling, missing her parents and the rest of her family as she’d moved to Miami a little over a year ago to start this new phase of her life. The rest of the Bennett clan were still in Connecticut, Alex running her father’s company with his sharp and intuitive mind, splitting his time between there and New York with his fiancé Monica. Rico, still managing the company’s finances and dodging his mother’s questions about settling down with a nice girl to give her more grandbabies. The adorable triplets that Bree and Renny had just given Beatriz were simply not enough. And Gabriella having just graduated from college was now living back at home until she figured out exactly what she wanted to do or why the world turned, as Rico had often stated in that frustrated and uptight tone he possessed.
Adriana missed them terribly, but she’d known she’d had to take this next step. Her life depended on it. That sounded pretty dramatic, she knew. But it had boiled down to exactly that. A fact she also held close, right alongside the fear of slipping back into that dark place that had held her captive for so long.
Parker Donovan had been instrumental in moving that fear a little further out of reach. Or at least his confidence in her as the one to bring Serena to life, had been.
“He’s a dream to look at, with a smile that will melt yours and any woman in a thirty mile radius’s panties off,” Jaydon Donovan had joked when Adriana had flown down here to meet with her. “But don’t let any of that fool you. He’s a businessman from the top of his head to the tip of his perfectly shined Gucci tie-ups. He knows the industry, what works, what doesn’t and how to keep the Donovan name on top. So I want you to go into that meeting with him and knock his socks off!”
And if that hadn’t been enough to cause Adriana to order three large pepperoni and extra cheese pizzas, three two-liter Sprites, a large order of fries smothered in cheddar cheese and bacon bits and an entire carrot cake from her favored Cheesecake Factory, then she didn’t know what was. And so she had ordered all that food and she’d felt like hell the second she’d swallowed the last bite. That guilt had undoubtedly—and all too familiarly—driven her straight to the bathroom, where she’d spent the rest of the night. By the time the driver of the town car that Jaydon had scheduled to pick her up had called up to her apartment to say he was out front, she’d had a raging headache and a mild case of the shakes that she hoped would resolve by the time she finally had to face the infamous
Parker Donovan.
It had been five years since she’d had a binge attack and she’d hated that the stress over whether or not she’d get this job had been enough to send her back to that place in her life. She had endured two years of psychotherapy and three years of taking Prozac, feeling accomplished and confident the moment she was strong enough to stop them both. But the prospect of meeting Parker Donovan and knowing that he could make or break the next phase of her life had immediately wiped all of that progress away. Thankfully, she’d gotten the job and regained a good measure of her confidence and self-worth by the show’s success.
So why the hell had she just been locked in a bathroom, her entire body shaking, her mind running wildly with names of restaurants, menu items, soft drinks, desserts and how quickly she could have all of them ordered and delivered to her apartment? She’d wanted to scream with frustration, to kick down that stupid door, or throw something. Anything, to keep from going back to that craving, to giving in another time. Adriana also did not want to call her therapist who emailed or texted her at least once a month to see how she was doing. And she definitely did not want to send an email or text requesting a new prescription. She wanted to be fine on her own, to fully and finally kick that disastrous and dangerous habit she’d developed during her early years of modeling.
This job meant a lot to her. The approval of the world, her family, the Donovan family, it all mattered way too much to her. She knew this, and yet it was easier to have that be the focal point of her life, then the disease that haunted her each time she looked into a mirror.
“You still here?” Giovanni’s voice scared her as he’d walked into her dressing room unannounced.
Adriana jumped, holding a hand to her already quivering stomach.
“Thought you would have pulled off in that fancy Porsche the boss man was driving.”
He came further into the room even though she still hadn’t invited him in. She hadn’t told him to get the hell out like she wanted to either, so there was that. Giovanni was the director of the show. He obviously did a good job considering their success, but Adriana did not like him. She hated the cheap smell of his cologne that he practically bathed in on a daily basis. His hair was too long and too oily and his Adam’s apple seemed much too large for his thin frame. He yelled when it wasn’t necessary and berated when calm explanation may have been more successful. Yeah, she definitely did not like him.
“I have my own car,” she told him. “And I’m leaving now.” She moved to the chair near the dressing table to grab her bag, lifting it up onto her shoulder.
When she turned again, Giovanni was in her face.
“Yeah, I know you’ve got your own car. He probably bought that for you, huh? Kind of cheap though to ride around in a Porsche 918 Spyder and only buy you a Honda, don’t you think? Maybe you’re not performing well enough,” he said, sucking his chapped lip between his teeth.
Her stomach churned, like steel grinding against steel and she felt nauseous even though she hadn’t eaten anything since about seven this morning when a plain bagel and orange juice had been the breakfast of choice.
“I purchased my own car,” she replied. “Just as I pay my own rent, buy my own clothes, meals, whatever I need. Parker Donovan is the producer of this show and nothing else to me.”
Giovanni laughed, his sallow complexion and beady eyes adding another layer to her dislike.
“You sure about that? Because he looked mighty caught up in that scene today. And the way he came running over almost seemed like he was jealous of Tyler touching you.”
“You’re wrong,” she snapped adamantly. “He was just checking on the show.”
She attempted to move around him, but he simply extended his arm across to stop her.
“Or he was checking on his investment. Then again, maybe not,” Giovanni added, looking her up and down as he once again moved to stand in front of her.
“Maybe he was wondering what the hell had happened to that sex goddess that posed in all those pictures. I’ve been wondering that myself,” he told her.
Adriana took a step back. She didn’t like him that close. But then he reached up, touched a hand to her chin, let his fingers glide down the line of her neck, over her collarbone and almost to her… She smacked his hand away.
“I’m doing my job,” she told him. “And apparently, I’m doing it well. Have you checked the ratings lately?”
Her heart was pounding in her chest, temples throbbing as anger boiled inside of her.
“But you see, Ms. Bennett, the camera doesn’t lie. And that body, you know the one that got you where you are today, it’s not looking the way it used to. Maybe that’s what Donovan came here to tell you. Is that why you’re in such a hurry to leave? Did he tell you to lose some weight or he’d replace you?”
“No,” she barely whispered in response. Her throat growing tight, head spinning.
“Well, he should have. Maybe I’ll schedule a meeting with him and let him know what I think.”
“I’m doing my job!” she yelled before pushing past him. “That’s all I’m contracted to do. So you can complain if you want, but the viewers aren’t going to like a new Serena, not when they’re so excited about tuning in to see this one every week. Tell Mr. Donovan that!”
She loved the sound of her voice when it hit that tone, when she’d been pushed to that point. Adrenaline carried her out of the room without looking back at Giovanni and through the parking lot until she could unlock and climb into her car. But that rush of confidence, that hint of defiance that did not make an appearance half as much as she’d wished, dissipated shortly after she’d begun to drive. By the time she made it back to her apartment, the Spaga’s On The Go menu—which, thanks to Regan Donovan and her boyfriend Gavin had become one of her favorite carry-outs—was replaying itself in her mind, again. Her mouth was watering at the thought of eating…and eating. So that when she’d finally let herself into her apartment and leaned against the door she was completely exhausted and sickened by her thoughts.
After a few seconds she decided she would not call Spaga, at least not right away. She would take a long hot bath and read that mystery book that she’d been just getting into last night. On her way to the bathroom she switched on the CD player and let the smooth sounds of Miles Davis’s Blue In Green fill the apartment. And minutes later, when she finally stepped into the tub still filling with hot water, she sat back and prayed.
Using her phone she placed an online order to Spaga—a garden quinoa salad with a side of zucchini fries. Bottled water was fully stacked in the refrigerator and those that did not fit, were on the floor in her dining room. There was also a great bottle of pinot grigio that she had yet to finish. And then there was her book and Adriana thought, the rest of her healthy life.
Despite that bastard Giovanni, she was determined to focus on that—the rest of her healthy life.
#
Jaydon Donovan, five foot seven and a half inches of butter toned skin, shoulder length hair with blonde highlights and a gut-punch of a smile, walked into Parker’s penthouse as if she too resided there.
After closing the door, Parker headed back to the kitchen where he was just getting ready to have dinner. He’d lived in this penthouse for about five years now, had moved in just after his divorce. It had been his first bachelor pad as he and Jaydon had gotten married right out of college and rented an apartment together until the day he’d realized what a mistake he’d made. His mother had hired a decorator the second Parker announced he’d purchased the penthouse. Being newly divorced, determined to ensconce himself in business and get on with his life, he’d let Carolyn take complete control. The clean lines and sleek look had surprised him, but the kitchen was the room that drew him in. As his mother had always stated, it was the heart of any home.
So he moved across the dark walnut floors to the convection oven where the roasted chicken and vegetables was warming.
“Ms. Carolyn still packing your meals an
d shipping them over here, I see. You should have her on retainer,” Jaydon said with a chuckle as she pulled out one of the brown leather high boy chairs around the eight foot long granite island.
“Don’t be jealous,” Parker joked while using the potholders to remove the aluminum pan his food was in from the oven. He took it to the island where he’d had a glass of lemonade already poured for himself and a stack of files he planned on reading over while he ate.
Jaydon smiled, reaching over to pick up the glass and taking a sip. “Ms. Carolyn is still one of the best cooks I know.”
“Too bad she doesn’t cook for ex-daughter-in-laws.” Again, Parker joked with Jaydon.
That’s the type of relationship they had now. Two adults—co-workers and friends. The fact that they were also ex-spouses probably should have made things a little more difficult, but it really didn’t. He and Jaydon had both decided that their marriage was a mistake. They’d both chosen to walk away, so there had been no hard feelings and no regrets. Or so Parker had believed.
“Don’t think I haven’t spent plenty of nights thinking of that lost perk,” she replied.
He looked up at her then, just as he’d taken his seat and noticed her putting his glass back down.
“What’s the matter?” she asked as he looked from her to the glass and back again. “I’m contagious now, too?”
There were a couple of things that Parker was used to in this world, one of which had become having his dinner alone, except on those evenings he’d selected female companionship. And even then, that had never taken place in his kitchen. Jaydon had obviously been here before, and yet, looking at her right now sitting so comfortably across from him made Parker feel…he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it.