Page 107 of Take Hold of Me

Rinaldo puts his hand on top of mine. “Maybe that means my chances of kissing you are higher than I expected.”

I shake my head, remove my hand from his and look down at my clasped fingers.

He sighs, pulls the car forward, then puts it into park. “C’mon. Can’t blame a guy for trying. You look smoking hot in that dress. I want to show you off.”

I am not some shiny toy to be shown off.This is as much my movie as his.

Without waiting for my reply, he exits the car and hands the keys to the valet while another attendant opens my door. Mentally preparing for the onslaught of flashbulbs and shouted questions, I make sure the belt of my coat is secure and place my high-heeled feet on the pavement. Rinaldo appears outside my door, offering his hand, which I take and stand up with a practiced smile. He keeps mine in his firm grip.

“Emilie Dubois! Rinaldo García! Over here!”

We both turn toward the voices and endure the paparazzi. At least, I endure it. Rinaldo basks in the attention. After a few minutes, I squeeze his hand and we start up the red carpet, stopping for photos every few meters. When we reach the reporters, we are called over as a couple.

“I see that you two arrived together and I understand you filmed a scene jointly. Can we assume that you are back together?” The female interviewer asks us this question, all the while staring at Rinaldo.

I force my expression to remain unchanged. I thought the questions would be about the movie.

“You are correct in that we share the screen,” he begins. “As for the rest, you know I don’t kiss and tell.” He winks at her.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. His coy response can only increase interest in us—thereby raising both our profiles. He does live for the media and he knows how to sway it to suit his needs. “Acting was something new for both of us, and it was nice to do my first time with Rinaldo,” I add.

After a few more similar interviews, we make our way inside the entrance and mingle with the people we met on set all those months ago. No one mentions the after-party, and I actually relax enough to enjoy the camaraderie.

Once we are seated in the large theatre, Rinaldo leans over to me. “Can’t wait to see us pop our cherries on screen.”

I snort at his outrageous comment, then put my hand up and laugh at the sound. Rinaldo joins me.

“Oh, Emmie, I’ve missed you. Missed this.” He leans over and kisses my cheek.

“It has been nice,” I admit. And it has. Just.Nice.

The lights dim and all conversation ceases. The movie rolls. When our scene comes on, I am surprised to see they chose the original take where I turn my head for the kiss. Relieved, actually. I cast a sideways glance at Rinaldo and catch his eye. He shrugs and we continue to watch the film through the credits.

Afterwards, we are invited to a party, where we congratulate everyone on a great project. Because I have an early flight to Paris tomorrow, I ask to make it an early night.

Back in the Ferrari, I remember the fun we used to have. Stealing moments when our schedules allowed. Laughing at inside jokes only the two of us knew. I am comfortable with Rinaldo. Like a well-worn pair of jeans.

I decide to delve beneath the superficial to get his perspective. “So, I am thinking about making some changes. I want to take more control over the direction of my career. I am looking ahead—more long-term. Making changes with my Agency.”

He changes lanes and replies, “Your Agency has been doing a great job for you all these years, right?”

I nod, my stomach souring at how Monsieur Price treated me. Not that I am willing to reveal my vulnerabilities to Rinaldo.

“So, why rock the boat now? You’re one of the world’s top supermodels, thanks to them. And you’re back to being neck-in-neck for jobs against Geonna. They obviously know what they’re doing.”

“But, I have missed important events. Bridal showers, birthdays. I want to have more say over my schedule. Plus—”

“There are always sacrifices. Thanks to the Agency, your career has never been better. Designers fall all over themselves to have you in their ads. My advice? Now is the time for you to stay the course.”

“I want to look ahead—”

He cuts me off. “Why get traded to another team when you know you’re already at the best?”

I collapse back into the seat. “I guess so.”

“You know I’m right.”

He smirks. I used to basically hand over my panties when he did that. Now … nothing. I yearn for one man. And he is not in this car.

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