Page 41 of Nothing to No One

That sounded serious. People who meant her harm? Who meant him harm? Surely, if that was the case, he’d be more adamant about catching up to her, about finding her, saving her.

This was the Land of Happily Ever After. Also the Land of Death and Tragedy, Drama, Crime, Sex, and Politics. Hollywood was everything good, and nothing bad, under the perfect sheen of stage lights and heavy makeup. There, everything was translated into sound bites from contrived scripts and pumped out to the masses across the globe.

“Is anything in this town real? How do you have a relationship with someone when there’s so much theater?”

“Sway and I are real. We’ll always be real.”

“Did you talk to her about us?”

“Stop asking questions. We’ve got this dinner, you’ll smile nice, and then we’ll be back at my place. This doesn’t mean anything; you’re not my girlfriend. I know it’s a big deal to be seen with me, to be out with me, but if you think I’m going to jumpstart your career…”

Sour, she smiled. “You can’t jumpstart your own, buddy. Everyone around you is working overtime to improve your image, and I’m a part of that effort. So yeah, this isn’t real, and boy am I glad about that. I couldn’t care less about you. Don’t forget you’re not the only one with power.”

“If you even think about—”

“Acting out? Walking away? Telling the truth? Depends on you, I won’t take anything off the table. You don’t have the most stellar reputation when it comes to treating people well, but I’m your fiancée. You keep looking at me like that in public, you, the great actor who knows and loves his craft so well? You’ll give the truth away. Everyone will know our relationship is a sham and they’ll ask why.”

“Struan. That’s why. He fucked up. He caused this. My damn brother—”

“This is not his fault. Yes, Struan and I got close in private. We didn’t know about the camera, and we didn’t mean to hurt anyone. But if your reputation hadn’t been in tatters in the first place, if you’d been a better man, capable of treating people well, none of this would be needed. I could have been passed off as a one-time encounter, a rebound, a moment of comfort in an intense circumstance. The press wouldn’t have cared who you snuggled up with. They only care because you’ve burned so many bridges, and I get it now, because you’re like this. That’s why this is necessary, because you’re so spiteful, you walk around with this undeserved hubris… I wouldn’t be surprised if the press, and half of the production companies in this town, weren’t gunning for you, waiting for you to fall on your face. I can’t tell for sure right now, but it seems to me like it might be deserved.”

“Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Look at the way you treat people, the way you treat me, your brother, Magnus, everybody. If you root for people, they root for you.Youdon’t do that, you judge and sneer and snap, like you have some automatic entitlement. You look at people with disgust and disdain; I wouldn’t spend any time with you by choice.”

“Don’t let the door hit you.”

She smiled. “I made an agreement, and I’ll do my part. In fact, I’m curious. Why would Ricardo Whey let his people take a chance on you?”

Whey probably didn’t make a lot of day-to-day casting decisions. There had to be a thousand ongoing projects under various WMC umbrellas. Something was different about this leading man, or Whey’s relationship with him.

That this dinner was taking place at all suggested one of two things: either Roman Lowe had dirt on Ricardo Whey and he blackmailed his way into the role, or there was some affection between them. Maybe the why would become clear after eating a meal with them. Something had to come of it. If Roman wasn’t going to talk about himself, she’d just have to ride the rapids. Probably for the best, could she ever trust Roman to be honest anyway?

FIFTEEN

ON ARRIVING, she and Roman didn’t wait for service, no doubt inflating the ego of her date. It sure didn’t need any help in the size department, but the moment they were seen, he was gestured over and greeted like an old friend.

Every corner of the restaurant was dressed like it belonged on a movie screen. The lighting, the ambience, the quiet music that bracketed the susurration of conversation. Each nuance was carefully orchestrated. How many deals were being struck in those walls? How many stars being made over caviar? How many careers ended before dessert?

The pleasant smiles and affable manners of those filling its seats told a different story. The restaurant with its elegant tableware and nouveau vintage décor wouldn’t be a suitable location for an executive to challenge or end someone’s dream of superstardom. Talk about awkward, and, of course, the “money” didn’t have time to waste on has-beens.

They quickly zigzagged around tables, beheld by diners, to one elevated in the back corner. Had to be the best in the house. With a window and advantageous view over the rest of the room enjoying their meals, the position screamed power and status.

“Roman!” Ricardo Whey declared and stood up. How did she know it was him? Just a guess. The woman at his side rose too, smiling and accepting Roman’s cheek kisses as Ricardo’s attention landed on her. “And you’re the secret.”

Whatever that meant, but she was kind enough to accept his polite hello kiss.

Roman helped her into her seat. “The secret?” she asked.

“Yes.” Ricardo gestured at his companion. “This is Raquel. She’s been with me for years.” As a wife? Girlfriend? Assistant? Assistant with benefits? What was allowed these days? “Knows all the ins and outs. You can’t beat the stability of a good woman. They know how to keep us in check.”

“Sure do. Bambi wasn’t a secret,” Roman said, all easy happiness. Where did that come from? He must’ve had a personality transplant since leaving the car. “Bambi is not used to the spotlight.”

“She should be.” Wearing a broad smile, Ricardo checked out her chest and expression. Hadn’t he just done that when they met? “She could be a superstar. I could make her a superstar.”

“No, thank you.” She paired the quick refusal with a self-deprecating laugh. Agreeing to being Roman’s fake fiancée unfortunately also meant not trashing the man’s career. It helped that trashing Roman’s meant trashing Struan’s. She wouldn’t do that for anything; aversion fueled restraint. “I’m happy where I am at Brooker.”

“Ah,” Ricardo said. A server hurried over to fill her and Roman’s glasses from the bottle already at the table. Another brought a replacement. “That answers my next question.”

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