Indiscreet (The Discreet Duet Book 2)

by Nicole French

  I looked up. “What? How can I not?”

  Will shook his head. “Maggie, your mom’s reputation isn’t yours to protect. If she doesn’t want herself posted online doing shit like that, she shouldn’t drink. She shouldn’t do the things she does.”

  My mouth dropped. “Will. You cannot possibly be suggesting that I allow Theo to post that video of my mother sucking—”

  “No, I’m not,” Will cut me off before I could finish.

  I was glad for the interruption. The fact of the video was mortifying.

  “We’ll have the lawyers file, I don’t know, a continuance or injunction or whatever they call it,” he said. “Delay the hearing, somehow. Benny’s already on it. He knows every shark in the city, and I guarantee he wasn’t going home to sleep. And besides that, I think it’s a bluff. Max cares about the billion dollars he could make on this movie much, much more than he cares about his piece-of-shit son. Let’s get a good lawyer. Let them do their job.”

  But the thought didn’t immediately soothe. “Will, I can’t afford a shark,” I said lamely. “I—I don’t even know how I’m going to afford the lawyer I have. Jamie is really nice, and she lets me pay her in installments. But I’m going to need to find a job, do something to get her initial retainer in the first place. A shark…I’d have to mortgage the house to do that.”

  “Maggie, my dad is dead.”

  There wasn’t anything I could really say to that. It was incredibly abrupt, but also, what in the world did it have to do with this conversation?

  “My dad’s dead,” Will repeated. “And I’m not even going to be able to go to his memorial because I have to be on set. So what do you think that means?”

  “I—I…”

  “It means,” he continued, “that the only family I have left in this world is you. Not Benny. Not that fucking vulture I have for a mother. You.” He swallowed, and the movement caused a small muscle in his jaw to tick. “This isn’t a choice. I need to protect my family, Lil. So let me do it, all right?”

  He stared at me hard, for a long time, his harsh, immovable gaze refusing to release me until, finally, I gave a tiny nod.

  “O-okay,” I stuttered lightly.

  Will’s face softened. “Okay,” he said. “Okay.” He turned then, picked up the script that Benny had left on the console, and studied it for a moment with disgust.

  “I should start practicing lines, you know,” he said. He let it drop again. “But fuck ’em. For one more day, fuck them all.” He shoved the script lightly across the table. “I’m going to take a shower. Wash this trash can of a city off me. I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”

  With a distant kiss on my shoulder, he strode down the impossibly long hallway, leaving me standing alone by the front door. I hadn’t even taken off the strappy black sandals borrowed from Calliope.

  I drifted a finger over the plain white pages. Did I feel the animosity coming off the text, or was that my imagination? I stared at it for a long time, trying to understand how something so innocuous-looking could have so much power. You read about the money of a production like this in the news, when film critics or gossip columnists reported on the box office earnings. A movie like this could fetch over a hundred million, sometimes close to two hundred million, in a single weekend. Close to a billion within a few weeks. It was unfathomable.

  But was it really worth ruining someone’s life? Did they really need Will that badly?

  The answer appeared to be yes—or else the del Contes were the type of people who tortured a man for sport. Considering who Theo was, I knew the latter was as likely as anything.

  It was then I noticed that there was no sound of running water, which was unusual in an older building like this. I left the script where it was and wandered down the hall, through the master bedroom, and into the bath where I found Will sitting on the edge of the tub, gripping the porcelain while he stared at his stomach, legs, up and down his arms. He had stripped down to his briefs, exposing the long, lean body I had fallen in love with.

  “In two days,” he said, “everything is going to change. Do you want to know what they’re going to do?”

  I nodded, though I was uncertain.

  “First,” he said. “They’ll send me to a trainer. And he’ll poke at me and pinch me and measure my body fat percentage and all this other bullshit to tell me that I need to put on about twenty more pounds of muscle over the course of filming. But you can’t do that in eight weeks, you see. So the next thing they’ll do is bring in a nutritionist, maybe even an endocrinologist. They’ll start force-feeding me eggs and fish and spinach, and I’ll eat probably five pounds of cod and a bag of broccoli every day. But when that doesn’t work, the doctor will probably want to shoot me full of testosterone, maybe even HGH. Maybe a combination. Within three weeks, I’ll be huge with a temper to match.”

  I frowned. “Surely you can choose. Do people really do that?”

  Will looked up. “You think that doesn’t happen?” he asked. “You think all those guys look that way because of natural fucking genetics?”

  “I—no! I mean, obviously, they work out really hard and everything, but—”

  “Maggie, the last time I did a blockbuster movie, I was seventeen. It was a military film, and those fuckers still had me shooting hormones into my ass to square off my jaw so I’d be more of a heartthrob than the pimply-faced teenager that I was. They didn’t care. None of them did. They care about the buck, about the audience. That’s fucking it.”

  He stood up, and the tensions in his movements made all his muscles flex. Will smirked at his reflection in the mirror and grabbed a handful of his hair.

  “Gonna have to come off,” he murmured, repeating Max del Conte’s snide words. “Well, then. Let’s take this shit off ourselves.”

  I watched in horror as he rummaged through a toiletry bag next to the sink. After locating his razor, he fisted a handful of golden waves and lifted the razor to his hairline.

  “Oh my God, stop!” I shouted, finally finding my voice.

  Will froze, the razor a few scant millimeters from his scalp. “What?”

  “Give me that.” I plucked the razor away and set it on the counter. “You can’t shave off twelve inches of hair, you idiot. To start, it would take forever. If you want to shave your head, you need to buzz it as short as you can before you use a razor.” I paused. “But please don’t shave your head. I love your hair.”

  Will’s full mouth pressed into a thin line. “Maggie, they’re going to cut it anyway. No one is going to want to put a wig on top of all of this. Max already put it in the contract, so I might as well fuck with them. Do it so terribly that they have to get a wig anyway. Nothing in it says I can’t cut my own damn hair off first.”

  My lower lip trembled. I couldn’t help it. In my mind, Will was synonymous with his hair. I had grown to love it, loved weaving my fingers through it at the nape of his neck, loved toying with the waves in the early morning, loved staring at the messy knot that perched at the crown of his head with impossible sex appeal.

  Even if he did shave his head, it would grow back soon enough. And then his transformation back to that smiling, charismatic movie star would be complete. He wouldn’t be my Will anymore.

  “Hey,” he said, this time more softly. He sat back on the counter and reached out a hand. “Lil. It’s still me. Muscle, no muscle. Hair, no hair.”

  I sniffed. “How do you always know what I’m thinking?”

  A smile emerged. My heart thumped, even through my stupid tears.

  “Intuition, I guess.” Will sighed. “Guess I’ll need to get some clippers.”

  “B-but you’re giving them exactly what they want,” I argued. “Except you’ll look ridiculous. Your scalp is probably whiter than these walls after all those years under that mane.”

  Will chuckled, but then he shook his head. “Baby, I’ve been hiding. But I can’t do that anymore.” He rubbed his face, like he was checking to see if his beard was still ther
e. “If I’m going to play this game, it can’t be from the shadows. And it has to be on my own terms.”

  I sighed and wiped the errant tears off my cheeks. My face felt swollen. I was so, so tired of crying, though I had a feeling there were going to be a lot more tears shed in the near future. But a thought occurred to me.

  “Hold on,” I said. I went back into the bedroom, rummaged around, and returned a few minutes later to Will, whose curiosity turned to surprise when he saw what I was holding.

  “You have clippers?”

  I shrugged. “I have everything you need to cut hair. It’s one of the few transferable skills Mama taught me, and I’ve already done it once for you, remember? But, I’ll only do it this time on one condition.”

  Will leveled his gaze. “Name it.”

  I stepped close, grabbed a thick handful of his hair, and pulled his face to mine. “You keep their fucking needles away from your ass. Your temper is bad enough as it is.”

  Will stared at me, but slowly, a wide grin spread across his face. After another few moments, he tipped his head back and laughed, harder than I’d ever heard him.

  “Goddamn,” he crowed. “You fucking wreck me, you know that, Lil? You are tough as fuck.”

  I quirked an eyebrow and flipped the clippers on. But even thought my tears, I couldn’t help but grin. His laughter lit up the room. It lit up my soul. “Do we have a deal?”

  Will grinned. “Fuck yeah, we have a deal.”

  I nodded. “Good. Now, let’s get a chair, sit you down, and do this.”

  Fifteen minutes later, I stood in the middle of the enormous bathroom, staring in horror at the hair lying on the floor, covering the smooth tiles in golden tatters.

  “There,” Will said hoarsely as he stood up from the dining room chair we’d lugged in. “It’s done.” He paced in front of the mirror a few times, then came to stop behind me, placed his hands on my hips, and set his chin on my shoulder. “Jesus,” he croaked as he stared at himself in the mirror. “Who are you?”

  It wasn’t completely buzzed to the scalp. Though closer to his neck, the dark blond was so short as to be barely visible, I’d convinced Will to let me layer it on the top so his gold waves were still a little evident. Maybe it would even be good enough that they’d keep it on film. The thought cheered—like he’d be taking a piece of me with him on screen.

  I reached a hand up to stroke his cheek, and his eyes closed. His stubble scratched my hand, practically the only familiar thing about this face. Gone was the beard now too; now he was all square jaw, chiseled cheeks, full lips, knife-straight nose. His eyes opened, no longer tempered by the beard and long hair. Set into his classical bone structure, the bright green pierced. I couldn’t breathe; it was like they shot right through me. There was nowhere for either of us to hide.

  “You’re beautiful,” I whispered as my fingers stroked his skin. I could feel him swallow against my collarbone. But the realization of what he’d been trying to tell me finally sank in. “But you’re still Will. You’re my Will.”

  His eyes closed again, but this time they didn’t wrinkle at the edges. This time there was some serenity there.

  “All yours,” he murmured, almost so low I couldn’t hear him.

  His hands slid around my waist, then pulled the zipper down my back. Slowly, he slid one strap of the dress down, then the other, peeling the skintight fabric down my body. I shimmied out of it, then allowed him to remove my bra as well. Finally, his thumbs hooked under the elastic of my underwear, which he slowly drew to the floor, where I kicked them away so that I stood in nothing but my heels. Those, I noticed, he left on.

  “You too,” I murmured.

  Will was already close to naked, but obediently he reached down and removed his briefs. When he returned behind me, slipped his large hands and strong arms around my waist, and pressed my naked back to the bare skin of his front, the warmth of his long body soothing mine from top to bottom. He folded himself around me, inhaling deeply from the curling thickets of my hair, taking handfuls of my flesh—breasts, waist, ass, legs—as if he was trying to memorize every curve I had. As if the touch somehow grounded him.

  I understood. I leaned into his hands. I felt the same way.

  “Watch us,” he rumbled into my ear before setting his teeth lightly over the lobe. Together we stared into the mirror, at our paired image. “It’s just us, here, Lil. Remember this when I’m not around.”

  He drew his hands up my waist to cup my breasts again, then pulled his fingers around my nipples, tugging them lightly. Pressing my palms on the counter, I arched my chest forward into his aching touch.

  “Feel it,” he ordered, his voice low, ominous. “I know you, Lil. I know this body better than I know my own. It’s instinct, baby. Pure and simple.”

  He tugged again, and a long, low moan escaped my lips as he bit my earlobe again. Will was a master at helping me walk that thin line between pain and pleasure.

  “I know you, Lil,” he said again. “Like you know me.”

  He pulled me back to him, so I could feel the hard muscles fit against my back. The solid warmth of his limbs pressed to mine. The long, imposing length of him nestled between my thighs. Pulsing, eager for entry, and yet also content just to be together, skin to skin.

  I did know him. Maybe not the large-scale stories. There was so much, after all, that he hadn’t told me. So much he had hidden for so long. But I knew Will on a cellular level, deep down, in that place where jobs, even names had no meaning.

  His hands continued to memorize every curve, texture, line of my body until I was practically humming with pleasure. They drifted down my back, flattening over the top of my ass.

  “One day,” he said as his thumb drifted down and toyed briefly with that small, untouched pucker. “I’ll know you everywhere. Here too.”

  I jerked slightly. Even Theo had never gone there with me—his tastes had been decidedly more deviant in some ways, and yet strangely conservative in others. It was a part of me he had never wanted, never taken. And I had never offered.

  “For now, I want to be here, though,” Will murmured into my ear, even as he pulled my hips toward him. His cock slipped between my thighs. Will shuddered, his breath heavy on my shoulder. “I want to be home.”

  He entered me with a sudden fullness that made me gasp. I lurched toward the mirror, losing my grip on the counter, but Will’s broad hand widened over my chest, keeping me mostly upright as he pushed farther in.

  “Stay close,” he ordered. “I need you close.”

  He closed his eyes, holding still for a moment and keeping me in place too. One hand splayed across my sternum; the other kept a solid grip on my hip. I couldn’t have moved if I’d wanted, but there was no place else I’d rather be. Love was freedom, Will said, not a prison. How strange, then, that his iron touch, his immovable grasp, was the key to my liberation.

  Then he pulled out, almost completely, hauling another gasp from my parched lungs as the friction stole my senses.

  “Do you feel that?” he whispered as he left me. “Do you feel that emptiness, baby?”

  I nodded, my words choked. The hand at my chest slid up to wrap lightly around the base of my neck.

  “You need me, don’t you?” Will asked as he rotated his hips, pushing past my entrance yet again, only slightly.

  “Mmmmm.” I couldn’t answer. Speech had abandoned me. My jaw was shaking, my entire body shivering with want. He was torturing me, torturing himself, but why?

  It’s your reminder, a small voice whispered in the back of my mind. So you don’t forget again. So you don’t believe that you can last apart.

  I bit my lip as my tears rose once more. I wouldn’t forget it, just as I knew that having him in LA while I went back to Newman Lake would tear my heart out of my chest all over again. It was bad enough when I thought that we were over. It was going to be torture knowing he was miserable, and I couldn’t be there to help.

  But.

  “Soon,�
� Will said as he surged back inside, holding me still, forcing me to take him even deeper. “Soon it will be done. I’ll come back to you. And then we get to start our lives together, Lil. Out in the open. No fear. No hiding. Together, we’ll be free.”

  Will’s eyes sparked at mine in the mirror, and I could see in them the joy that future offered. There would be no more living in the shadows for Will Baker. Perhaps one joyless film, one last paparazzi cycle was a small price to pay for that kind of freedom.

  “And you know it will be the rest of our lives, don’t you, Lily pad?” His lips dragged up my neck, leaving imprints all over the delicate skin. “You and me, baby. We’re not right now. We’re forever.”

  And slowly, slowly, he thrust fully inside, filling me with his cock, his promise, his love, his whole self. Will gave me everything he had with a few small words, a few small movements. And they harnessed me completely.

  10

  “Babe. Lil. Come on, beautiful, you need to wake up.”

  Slowly, I opened my eyes, humming into the warm caress on my shoulder. For a second, I almost thought I was back on the lake, with light streaming through the trees that protected Will’s windows. I sighed with contentment, until the glass roof of the MET’s atrium gleamed directly in my eye, sharp like the edge of a diamond. I squinted as the light bounced off the gold sconces mounted around the bedroom walls.

  I blanched. On a beautiful summer’s day, with the benefit of central air and twenty stories up, even the light in this place was sharp.

  I sat up, shading my eyes to look at Will. I yawned. “Hey. What time is it?”

  He stood from the bed and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. He was fully dressed in blue shorts and a gray t-shirt, despite the fact that both of us had fallen asleep the night before without a scrap of clothing on.

  “It’s six,” he admitted sheepishly. He pushed a hand through his hair, then frowned like he had been expecting its previous weight, not the clipped waves now there. “There’s something I need to do before I leave for LA, and I need you there.”