Page 52 of Faking the Pass
The snarl became a cruel sneer. “In fact, I might just recast your role inCharmand reshoot the whole picture so no oneeversees your pointy little face on the big screen.”
“Watch it,” Presley warned. “That’s my future wife’s face you’re talking about.”
Wow.He was a good actor after all. I almost believed the protective hero show he was putting on.
White with rage, Randy straightened and turned back to him.
“As for you, wise guy… we’ll see how funny you think all this is when you’re dragged into court as a witness.”
“No problem.” Presley smiled. “I’ll begladto swear under oath that you’re an unredeemable asshole.”
Apparently temper overwhelmed his common sense, because Randy tried to throw a punch at Presley. Of course it didn’t land. Presley caught his hand midair and easily stopped it.
He chuckled. “Save it for the courtroom, cowboy. We’ll see you there.”
Visibly trembling with indignation, Randy spun and left the room.
All the survival mode energy left my body, and I slumped in my chair, letting out a pent-up breath and dropping my face into the cradle of my hands.
“What have I done?” I moaned. “He’s not going to stop until even small town community theater productions refuse to cast me.”
Presley’s warm hand covered the back of my head. “I seriously doubt that, though maybe I did push him a little too far. I couldn’t help myself. I followed my gut. At least people know the truth now.”
“Until his PR team gets a hold of it and puts their own sordid spin on the story,” I said into my hands. “They’re going to make it look like you and I have been having an affair.”
“But we haven’t been,” Presley countered.
Now I dropped my hands to my lap and looked up at him. “You know that. I know that. But it’s what people believe that matters.”
“Is it?” he asked. “Look, I get it, but maybe people will like our story better. They usually love the whole movie star and athlete thing.”
He sounded so confident. Poor guy. He was used to dealing with sports reporters—civilizedbeings.
And I knew he’d meant well by speaking up in the conference room. He’d been trying to help me.
Little did he know, he’d made things much, much worse.
It wasn’t his fault. It was mine for getting romantically involved with Randy in the first place and agreeing to marry him, even though my heart had sunk to my toes when he’d proposed during the Oscars.
Even though my gut had been carrying an ever-increasing tangle of dread since that day.
I took Presley’s hand once again, since it felt so good and this was the last time I’d ever get to hold it.
“I’m sorry I dragged you into this mess. Now you’ll have to go to court, and the reporters will be hounding you—probably for weeks. And this is not your problem. It’s mine.”
He squeezed my fingers and gave me a smile so sweet the ice lining my stomach melted a bit.
“That’s where you’re wrong. I made it my problem by speaking up in there,” he said. “Besides, he’s bluffing. He doesn’t want a court hearing about this. The more information that comes out about this, the worse he looks.”
“You’re wrong. He’ll do it. You don’t know him. Randy is one of the most vindictive people I’ve ever met.”
Presley shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. His lawyers will have nothing. I’m not going to testify against you.”
“You’ll have to. You won’t have a choice. The judge will hold you in contempt.”
“No he won’t,” Presley said in a tone completely free of worry. “Because we’re going to get married.”
He went on as if he didn’t notice my jaw, which was currently residing on the floor between us.
