The Thrill of Temptation (The Fontaines Book 4)

by Ember Casey

  “Your father’s still sick?” he says after a moment.

  “Yeah. He’s been in and out of the hospital for the past few years. It started as a liver issue, but it turns out there are other things wrong, too.” I straighten and relax my hands. I didn’t realize how hard I was gripping the edge of the seat until just now. “But you don’t need to hear about all that.”

  He opens his mouth, but he doesn’t respond right away. Maybe he was going to be polite but decided to take me at my word instead. After all, I’m just some random extra in his movie. He’s Orlando Fontaine. He doesn’t care about my personal life.

  But then he speaks.

  “My father’s sick, too,” he says without taking his eyes off the road. “Not that bad, not yet, but…I suspect he’ll be in the hospital for an extended stay before the end of the year.” He shoots me a quick glance, and for once, there’s little intensity in his eyes. Instead, he just looks guarded. “This isn’t public news, obviously. But I trust you not to go to the press with it. I just…I wanted to let you know I understand how you feel. It’s impossible not to feel helpless, watching our parents suffer.”

  I can only stare at him in disbelief. Charles Fontaine is sick? I can understand their family wanting to keep this private. Charles is a legend in the industry, and his family is the closest thing this country has to royalty. So many people will be devastated by this news, and the press will give them even less privacy than they already have.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say finally. “I had no idea.” Which I know is a stupid thing to say, even as the words leave my mouth. Of course I’d have no idea about the private life of some celebrity I just met.

  We’ve reached my brother’s apartment complex, and Orlando pulls his car up to the curb just out front and shifts it into park.

  “All we can do is offer them whatever support we can,” he says, turning toward me. “And keep on going as best we can. At least this film is successfully distracting me.” He offers me a smile that still carries a hint of sadness behind it. “You know, Maggie, after tonight’s events we’re going to need you on set for another couple of days at least. And after that I’m sure I can find you something else—we can always use another production assistant or something.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” I tell him.

  “Do what? Offer you a job?”

  “I thank you, but I don’t need your charity,” I insist. “I didn’t tell you my sob story just because I was looking for a handout.”

  “What if I want to offer you a job?” he counters. “Just because I want to?” He studies me. “Don’t worry—I’m not trying to rope you into some movie career against your will. You’ll work throughout our filming and be free as a bird again when it’s done.”

  It’s tempting, really it is. Especially when Orlando is looking at me like that. I probably shouldn’t tell him how much I want to lean across the car and kiss him for his generosity.

  “I…don’t know,” is all I can manage.

  His expression grows more serious. “If this is about what happened tonight, Maggie, I promise you don’t have to worry. I’ll take care of everything. But I also understand if you feel the need to walk away.”

  Is that why I’m resisting? I’m still having a hard time processing what happened tonight.

  “You don’t have to make your decision now,” he tells me. “Just think on it.” He pauses. “This isn’t charity. I really do want to help. I don’t know what it is, Maggie, but I feel protective of you.”

  “You hardly know me,” I blurt.

  “You’re right,” he admits. “But something about you…” A hint of amusement sparkles in his eyes. “You have a certain energy about you. I find it…diverting.”

  “Diverting?”

  “Funny. And endearing.” He smiles.

  “What was it?” I ask. “The silly drawings or the whole panty-throwing thing?”

  “Just you,” he says. “You don’t take yourself too seriously. You have no idea how rare that is where I come from.” His smile deepens. “The panty thing didn’t hurt, though.”

  “And Panty Girl saves the day again,” I joke.

  He laughs. And I can’t help it—I laugh, too, even as I blush from my hairline down.

  I hadn’t realized how much I needed to laugh, how much tension I was holding in my body. After a moment, my laughter turns into something else. Something halfway between a laugh and a sob.

  “Maggie.” Orlando reaches out to me, his hand curling over mine. His hand completely encompasses mine, but his touch is light and soft.

  I look up at him. I want to cry, and I want to laugh, and I want to kiss him until I forget everything else that’s happened tonight. I don’t know how to explain to him what I’m feeling, but as we stare at each other, his golden eyes slowly darken with heat. My breath catches.

  Suddenly, there’s a loud buzz from his pocket. We both give a start.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, reaching into his pants for his phone.

  “You can answer it,” I tell him, hoping my voice sounds even.

  His thumb moves to the “Reject” button anyway, but then I happen to see the name on the screen.

  “Answer it,” I tell him more firmly, and then I reach over and press the “Accept” button for him.

  He immediately pops the phone up to his ear. “Nadia? Hey.”

  I sit back and unbuckle my seatbelt. I don’t know what just happened between us, but I have no reason to feel jealous of Orlando and Nadia. I have no claim on Orlando at all, just a teensy little crush. And I really should just go inside and curl up in bed.

  I open the door.

  “Wait,” Orlando says, but I’m already halfway out. I stand there awkwardly, leaning against the car door, wondering if I should just make my escape while I have my chance…and at the same time, I really want to stand here and look at him a moment longer. To remind myself there are good things in this world. Happy things that make my heart beat faster.

  Orlando climbs out of his side of the car.

  “I’ll call you right back,” he tells Nadia. He hangs up and slips the phone back into his pocket as he walks around the car to me.

  “Are you okay to be alone?” he says, his gaze rising to the building beside us.

  “I won’t be alone. I live with my brother,” I remind him, embarrassed that it didn’t even cross his mind that I might not be single, or otherwise have someone waiting for me to come home. “I’ll be fine. Really.”

  He doesn’t look like he believes that. I quiver beneath his gaze. I want to melt right into his chest. Or maybe down into the pavement, where at least I’ll have some relief from those probing eyes.

  “Thank you for driving me home,” I tell him. “And for…the rest.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again.

  I nod firmly. “Yes. Goodnight, Mr. Fontaine.”

  “Orlando,” he calls to me as I hurry off toward the building’s door. “Goodnight, Panty Girl.”

  And I feel his eyes on me until I disappear inside.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The following morning, at approximately five o’clock, someone calls to inform me that filming for the day has been canceled. And that, for my convenience, my car has been towed—at the production company’s expense—to a spot just outside Justin’s building. I’m told that I’ll be contacted with the new schedule by tomorrow, and honestly, I’m relieved to have an extra couple of days of rest and recovery without having to deal with my car, the movie, or any of the complicated emotions the last twenty-four hours have brought up. Besides, Justin and I promised to go see Dad today.

  We arrive at the hospital together late in the afternoon. Like everyone else, I hate hospitals. But I love seeing my dad, even if he’s only a shadow of the man he once was. There’s still plenty of spark left in him. And I like being able to cheer up Mom, too.

  Justin and I don’t really talk to each other as we head to Dad’s room. We’ve made this visit t
ogether a dozen times before, and we ran out of comforting things to say to each other weeks ago. Now we each just handle the situation as best we can on our own.

  At least I have some interesting things to talk about this week. My dad has always loved movies, and I know he’ll be thrilled to hear how things function on an actual film set. It always perks him up to hear about our lives. Our mom, too.

  When we arrive at Dad’s room, I expect to see the usual scene: Dad in the bed, maybe with a book in his hand or maybe with his eyes on the TV, and Mom beside him, either working on her knitting or on one of her crossword puzzles. Mom rarely leaves Dad’s side, which means they ran out of things to say to each other even before Justin and I did.

  Weirdly, though, my mom and dad are laughing together when Justin and I enter. In fact, my mom is giggling so hard that there are tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. They don’t even notice us at first.

  “What’s going on?” Justin asks, looking just as surprised as I feel.

  “Oh, you’re here!” my mom says, spinning around in her chair. She wipes her eyes on her sleeve, but she’s still giggling a little. “Come in, come in!”

  My dad is still grinning, too. He’s much, much thinner than the man I grew up with, with hollow cheeks and dark circles beneath his eyes, but he looks better than I’ve seen him in weeks. The old twinkle is back in his eyes.

  “Is the new treatment working?” I ask, hope rising in my chest for the first time in months.

  “Oh, it’s too early to tell,” my mom replies. “The doctor is optimistic, but he was optimistic about the last one, too, and we all know how that turned out.”

  “I don’t understand,” Justin cuts in. “What are you two so happy about?”

  “Just that a guardian angel seems to be looking out for us,” Mom says. “Oh, Justin, Maggie, you’ll never believe what’s happened.”

  My brother and I draw closer, exchanging a quick glance of surprise and confusion. At least Justin is just as lost as I am.

  Justin takes the chair near the window, and I sit on the bed near my dad’s feet.

  “You know your mother and I have been doing the best we can,” my father says. “I never wanted to be a burden on anyone, and the hardest thing about these last few years is knowing that I can’t support my family the way I once could. Ruby deserves better.” He squeezes my mom’s hand, and she smiles warmly at him.

  “You’re too hard on yourself, Keith,” she says. “You’ve supported us for so long. We’d do anything to return the favor.”

  My dad looks at her like she’s his entire world. After all this time, my parents still love each other deeply, and it’s obvious to anyone who sees them together.

  “It’s been hard, these last few years,” he says to Justin and me. “You two know that already. Your mom has told me not to worry, and it’s due to her hard work that we weren’t broke a long time ago. But we both knew this couldn’t go on forever. We didn’t tell you this, but in order to pay for this new treatment we decided to take out a second mortgage on the house.”

  My fingers grip the blanket beneath me, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Justin sit up straighter. We both knew money was tight with our parents, but we didn’t think it was this bad.

  “I can loan you some money,” Justin says. “I’m expecting a bonus at the end of the quarter.”

  At the same time, I say, “I won’t get much from this movie, but it might help. And Orlando offered me a job.”

  But our dad just chuckles and shakes his head.

  “That’s the thing,” he tells us, smiling. “There’s no need for that anymore. We’ve had our own miracle.”

  My mom’s grin is just as big. “Someone paid off all our outstanding bills this morning. All of them. And they’ve arranged to pay for your dad’s treatment through the end of the year.”

  “They have? Who?” Justin asks. “Some charity organization?”

  “That’s what we thought at first,” my dad says. “But then we learned it was a private donor.”

  “But who?” Justin demands.

  “They asked to remain anonymous,” Mom replies. “Trust me, we asked. The hospital refused to tell us. Which is probably for the best. Your dad isn’t fond of accepting charity.”

  “No,” my dad admits. “I’m not. A man takes care of his own bills. But when I saw how relieved your mother looked, how much of a burden this lifts off her shoulders… If these last couple of years have taught me anything, it’s that sometimes a man must swallow his pride. We’ve been given an amazing gift, and I won’t refuse it.”

  He gives my mom’s hand another squeeze, and I stare at the pair of them in shock. I have no reason to make any assumptions about where that money came from, but…

  Last night I told Orlando about my father, and this morning a mysterious donor paid off all of his medical bills. That’s way too much of a coincidence.

  “Will you excuse me for a minute?” I say, rising from the bed. “I’ll be right back.”

  I leave the room before anyone can ask me what’s wrong. I feel strange, both queasy and jubilant at the same time. On the one hand, I’m relieved that my parents don’t have to worry about their debt anymore. But on the other, I can’t accept this sort of gesture from Orlando.

  I can guess why he did it, too. I was attacked on his set. He probably feels guilty about it, or maybe he just wants to make some grand gesture so I won’t sue him or the production over what happened. That has to be it.

  When I’m far enough away from Dad’s room, I pull out my phone. But I have no idea who to call. I don’t have Orlando’s number. And the woman who called me about my schedule probably won’t give me his number if I called her back and asked for it.

  I stop by the administrative desk. I recognize the angular woman in scrubs sitting behind the computer—Fiona isn’t exactly the friendliest member of the staff here, but she clearly takes pride in her job.

  “Hey, Fiona,” I say to her, offering a smile. “I wanted to ask you about my dad’s medical bills.”

  “You mean the anonymous donor? I’m afraid I can’t say anything about that.”

  “He didn’t leave a message for us or anything? No hint of who he is?”

  Fiona is sharp, and her intelligent brown eyes meet mine over the top edge of her trendy, thick-rimmed glasses. She knows something, that much is obvious. She’d have to—if this was a personal contribution, not done through a charity or other organization, the billing department would have to have his legal name at the very least.

  “Please, Fiona,” I beg. “I’m not asking you to give me the name. Just…a hint.” Fiona is a stickler for the rules—something you usually want among hospital staff—but in this instance, I wish she’d bend them just a little. She knows my family well by now—maybe I can soften her up a little, play at her sympathy.

  “I’m afraid I can’t share anything,” she says, though she actually looks like she regrets it. She shakes her head, making her hoop earrings swing from side to side. “I’m sorry, Maggie.”

  “That’s okay,” I tell her. There has to be another way to get the answers I seek. I turn away, intending to walk back to Dad’s room, when Fiona calls to me.

  “Your mother says you’re going to be in a movie,” she says. “Orlando Fontaine’s new one.”

  I twist back around, my heart thumping. “Yeah. Just as an extra. But it’s been fun.”

  She nods, and I swear she almost smiles. “I bet it is. And I wouldn’t be surprised to hear you’d made quite the impression down there. The way your mother tells it, you may be leaving us for Hollywood soon. I guess it can’t hurt to make some famous friends.”

  “I… Yeah, I guess it can’t.” I return her almost-smile, feeling that odd combination of sick and excited again. Fiona won’t be any more explicit than she already has been, but she’s given me the answer as best she can.

  “Thank you,” I tell her. Then quickly add, “For watching after my dad, of course.”


  “Just doing my job.” She’s already bent her head over the computer again. I turn and head back toward Dad’s room.

  So my suspicions were right. I don’t know how I feel about that—my emotions are too jumbled to make much sense. I still don’t really understand why Orlando would do something this huge for me, even if he feels guilty about what happened last night.

  I try not to let it disrupt my afternoon with my parents. They look so happy and relieved that I don’t want to spoil the mood with my confused feelings. My dad looks better than he has in a long time, and I’d do anything to keep that spark in his eyes, even accept charity from Orlando Fontaine.

  Justin and I hang out for a few hours, talking about our lives and then playing a few rounds of rummy on the little table that fits over Dad’s bed. At one point we run down to the hospital’s food court and grab sandwiches and chips for ourselves and Mom, plus a giant chocolate chip cookie that we all split as we watch one of my dad’s favorite game shows together.

  By the time we leave, I’m feeling much more settled. But my mind is still racing, trying to piece everything together. I spend the first half of the night tossing and turning, unable to think about anything else, until I finally give up and pull out my giant Complete Works of Shakespeare again and flip to my place in Henry VI, Part 2. By the time my eyes start to feel heavy, the first morning birds have started singing. I flip off my lamp and curl up for a couple of hours of sleep.

  The next day I’m still feeling restless, though, and it’s bad enough that even Chadwick starts avoiding me and eyeing me warily from beneath the couch. Finally, I can’t take it anymore. I have to talk to Orlando.

  I have no idea if the production of Death and Deadly Night even meets on the weekends, let alone where they would be if they do. Not to mention the fact that Ford’s firing changes everything—who knows what needs to be reshot? Or where? But I find myself driving toward the office building where we spent all day Friday, and for once in my life, luck seems to be on my side. When I pull up, I observe several members of the crew hurrying in and out of the building, moving equipment. That doesn’t mean Orlando is here, but it’s a good sign.