Page 85 of The Producer: Aaron

“Are you going to come with me?” Aaron whispers to me when Tracy and Sarah walk away to call the others and tell them the plan.

His voice is insecure, almost uncertain whether or not I have decided to return to live with him.

“Yes. Let’s go home,” I whisper before kissing him.

I don’t know if this company will ever take off or if there will be a future for me as an actress after the show’s cancellation, but I’m happy to find it out next to a man like Aaron.

I watch Dakota’s long legs lie on the deck chair next to me in the pool. She’s focused on her computer, researching something she didn’t want to tell me. She’s beautiful as always, and I still don’t believe I almost lost her because I can’t handle my feelings when my father is involved.

If there’s one thing that this whole ordeal has taught me, it’s that I want to enjoy life more. I will certainly not give up my job, but I will devote more time to being with the woman next to me who has decided to embark on this adventure with me. Because despite having received several proposals for auditions, she believes so much in this project that she decided to wait for the right opportunity with my company. She said she is sure that sooner or later, the right job will come, and in the meantime, she has started to work hard to set up a street team of girls who can spread the word online for our new projects. I don’t know how she came up with such a thing, but the fact that she believes in me to the point of pausing her career to work on it is something I never considered I could want in life.

“If you keep staring at my legs like that, you’ll never be able to finish your work. Didn’t you have to go and check on the progress at the new offices?”

I smile as I look away from her legs. She has one of those serene expressions I enjoyed over the last three months since she returned to live with me.

“Are you going to tell my boss if I don’t do my job? Wait, I’m the boss,” I tease, reaching out my hand and pinching her sidelightly.

She sticks out her tongue and laughs, amused. “You’re never going to stop pointing this out, are you?”

I am the owner of a neighborhood with seven semi-destroyed warehouses, and I have never felt so rich and powerful as right now.

“No. I will keep repeating it until I am a decrepit old man and someone is doing my job for me.”

“Good, because you must never forget how far you have come and how successful you have been,” she tells me before returning to the laptop.

“You know I love you, don’t you?” I tell her as her head snaps in my direction.

I’ve never told her this. I promised her that when I did, it would be at a time when we were not driven by a quarrel or an irrepressible joy. Because it is easy to love someone in a rush of emotions, but when routine creeps into your relationship, you see if that love remains. It is easy to sayI love youwhen violent emotions stir in your chest, but in the tranquility of silence, you really understand the value of that feeling.

Dakota gets up from her deck chair and slips between my legs, kissing me before sitting down and leaning her back to my chest. I put her laptop on the table and hold her to me.

“I suspected you loved me, but it’s nice to have verbal confirmation.” She laughs, and I laugh with her.

“Well, I want you to be sure I have no doubt.”

“I can’t tell you now. Because it would appear that I only tell you in response to yours. Because I feel obligated,” she says, and I smile. I cannot contradict her logic.

I hold her tighter and enjoy her warmth on me.

“But I have one thing that will make you fall in love with me more,” she continues, stretching out her arm and grabbing her laptop.

I look at the screen where there is a girl with blue hair and arms covered with tattoos.

“Do you remember that you couldn’t find the author of the fantasy saga I shared with you? I did some research and went back from her pen name to her real name. You won’t believe it, but she lives here in Los Angeles, and every day, she goes to have coffee and write a few chapters here.” She smiles at me as she points out a spot in the Westwood area.

I lean over and look at her in disbelief. “How the hell did you do it? Tracy searched for her for days, and not even my lawyers could find anything.”

She shrugs and smiles at me. “I remembered an old post on Reddit where they talked about her. I discovered another pen name of hers, and I found out that she opened an LLC to publish her books. The company’s data are public, so I found her real name, searched for her online, and found out that she lives around UCLA.”

“You are incredible. Really. Are you sure you want to be an actress in life? Because you would have a future as a private investigator.” I laugh amusedly.

We tried for weeks without results to find this woman, and she managed to find her name and address in half a day of research.

“No, I’m not so good. I couldn’t find you an address. She uses a PO Box.” She shrugs as if not to believe that what she has done is really a miracle.

“What do you think we should do now?” I ask, curious to knowhow she would deal with this situation.

“I think you should go to her. Writing her a letter or even sending her the contract would be completely impersonal, and there is no way to see her reaction when she receives it. But you can’t show up alone as one of those chilling stalkers. You should bring a woman, like Tracy, who can reassure her that you are not a maniac who wants to kill her,” she explains, and I am fascinated.

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