Page 60 of The Best Wrong Move

“How would I? You don’t exactly advertise that you’re related on your Airbnb listing. And, even if you did, I clearly didn’t read the fine print before booking it.”

My head is spinning as I put all the pieces together.

“Well, I feel like an idiot.” I leave my wine glass where it is. I need a clear head for this conversation. “Here I am, writing my first feature film script, dressed in bangles and kaftans, while your brother is legitimate Hollywood royalty.” I rest my hands against the countertop, still trying to process the fact that I’m sitting at a kitchen island owned by Quinton Rockwell. I press my palms into the cold marble in front of me.Has Quinton touched this spot recently?

“Nah.” Dom takes the towel and starts fanning the pillow of steam still rising off the crab legs, now sitting in a strainer. The sink is practically — no definitely — as big as my standing bathtub back home. “I think what you’re doing is admirable. Chasing your dream — that’s more than most people can claim over their entire lifetime. The majority of people just do the bare minimum to get by before they get buried six feet under.”

I blink my eyes a few times.

I spent today writing a movie script in Quinton Rockwell’s backyard.

“I don’t usually tell people we’re related. Especially not this fast. But Quinton and his wife are planning to visit in a few weeks. Selma, that’s his wife, hates when he tries to work on vacation, but he’s kind of a workaholic. Asking Quinton not to work is like asking the sun not to rise. I doubt he’d mind hearing a film pitch while he’s here. Especially if—” He stops short, grabbing the pan of bubbling garlic butter off the stove.

Hear a film pitch?

I wait while he pours it into a shallow dish for dipping the crab into.

Then I can’t wait any longer.

“Especially if what?” I try to sound more casual than I had a moment ago, sensing a change in the air.

“Especially if it comes from someone I care about.” He doesn’t look one hundred percent into his idea about me pitching his brother.

“Excuse me, but are we talking about me pitching my film script to your brother?” I can barely believe what I’m hearing. I only just found out they’re related, and now he’s casually mentioning that I might actually get a shot at pitching him?

“Normally, I would never suggest it. Especially considering some things that’ve happened back home. But . . .” He sets the pan down and comes to stand in front of me, pulling me off the barstool. He pushes my hair back from my face, gently grabbing hold of my chin, tilting my eyes up to look at him. “I like you, Liv,” he says gently. “And I think you deserve a shot.”

Just hearing those words come out of his lips takes my breath away. I wasn’t expecting any of this. I rise up on my tiptoes, pulling his face down closer to mine.

“I like you, too.” I bite my lip before brushing them gently against his. Not quite a kiss yet, but we’re almost there. “And I want you to know that it doesn’t matter to me who your brother is. I liked you before I knew about any of this.” I wave my hand around the mansion behind us. “You definitely don’t have to introduce me to Quinton if that makes you nervous. I could tell there was something you felt suspicious about, ever since I mentioned my reason for being here. But, I swear, I had no idea who you were, or who you were related to. Hell, I’m the one that tried to leave the island right after I landed, and you’re the one that stopped me.”

I close the gap between us, giving in to one slow, sweet kiss. My pulse picks up speed.

“I’d love to introduce you two. Not just because I want you to meet him, but because I’d also like to give you that connection. I got to where I am in the business world because people I cared about gave me a once-in-a-lifetime chance to prove myself. That’s exactly what I want to do for you.”

He kisses me again while this new information swims through my mind. The way he sees me. This thing he wants to do for me. I’ve never met a man like Dom. He’s not only selfless, but also thoughtful and kind. He makes me feel like I’m home, even when I’m so far away from anything I’ve ever known. He doesn’t have to do this for me — but knowing that he wants to makes me want to pounce on him right here.

“But I have to warn you,” he goes on, “there’s a reason Quinton’s been so successful. If something doesn’t feel exactly right to him, he won’t take a chance on it. No matter who’s pitching.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from a bona fide genius,” I tell him, not surprised. “I’ve met enough people in the film industry as aGood Day Showanchor to know that the most successful people in Hollywood tend to be a special kind of eccentric.” I crinkle my nose as he cracks into a grin. “But enough about your brother. I came here for an entirely different purpose.”

“The food?” He grips my hips on both sides, sending a shockwave down both legs.

I take a step toward him, fighting the urge to close the gap too quickly. I want to make this moment as slow and delicious as possible.

“You may not know this,” I say quietly, biting my lip, “but I’ve been pretty crazy about you since you first shoved open that front door for me. Before I even knew a thing about you.”

He lets out a sigh, like he’s been holding his breath until hearing those words come out of my mouth. He kisses me again.

It all clicks into place. My own puzzle about Dom. I cup his face between my hands, willing him to look at me again. Wanting to see if I’m about to nail down the reason for all his hesitation when we talk about anything in his world.

“Wait, is this what you’ve been running away from back in California?” I ask quietly. “Your family? The fame?”

He nods slowly, his mouth twisting into a half-smile, while his eyes turn a dark, stormy green.

“It’s a blessing and a curse,” he says. “You’d be surprised by what the mere proximity of extreme success can make people do.”

“Dom, your brother could be the King of England, and I still wouldn’t give a shit.” I grab a fistful of fabric from the waistline of his shorts and pull him closer to me. “He could be handing out orders to peasants in the middle of New York City and I’d still just want to be anywhereyouare. It doesn’t matter to me who you’re related to.”

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