Page 6 of Just for the Holidays
“We should get going. I have a flight later today and need to be on the road in a couple of hours,” she said tersely.
“Sure.” Gael nodded, giving her a questioning look. But whatever he was wondering about, he didn’t ask it. After letting her say a quick goodbye to his mother he briskly led her through the living room, which indeed had an enormous tree in the corner. They walked by framed windows showcasing an awe-inspiring view of the ocean, and walls lined with family photographs and quite a few pieces of art.
Unlike her own mother’s house, which looked like a Versace home showroom, Veronica’s house was furnished for comfort. Dozens of photos of Gael, Gabi and Veronica and other family members hanging on the walls or in frames on practically every surface. The brown leather sectional looked inviting, like it could easily sit half a dozen people. There were also armchairs and ottomans scattered around the room. All of them looked well used. The Montez home was a place for family. In the past she’d yearned to be one of them. To belong to these people who loved each other so deeply, but Gael had not seen her as his forever.
“This is very nice, Gael.” She knew buying a home in the Hamptons for his mother was one of his dreams. When they’d been together, he told her that when he was in middle school his mom worked as a housekeeper for a wealthy family in Southampton during the summer. The estate had a small apartment over the stable and she would bring Gael and Gabi with her. He told Perla he’d loved and hated those summers. Loved the beautiful coast and playing on the beach with his sister but hated how the family treated his mother. He’d confessed to Perla that one night after he’d seen his mom almost pass out from exhaustion, he’d promised himself that one day he would be rich and buy her one of those big houses...and he had. She wanted to ask him if he remembered telling her that. Instead, she turned around, admiring the room in silence, until she trusted herself to speak. “Your mother must be very pleased.”
He made a noise that was more of a groan than a yes and stopped right as they reached the fireplace, which was blazing happily. “You know how she is.” He smiled wryly and looked around the big room with the ten-million-dollar view he’d bought for his mother. “It took six months to convince her we needed a decorator to help her.”
“I can imagine.” Perla smiled knowingly as she admired the room. Gael’s mother would probably not be one to think spending money on something as frivolous as a decorator was necessary.
“Come,” he said, breaking the tense silence between them. “We can do the reading in the study.” He laughed awkwardly as he opened the door to the massive room. “I’m not sure what else to call it.”
“Wow, this is amazing,” Perla said in a reverent whisper as she followed him to the doorway and took in the rows and rows of books along the walls. Like in the living room, there was a blazing fire here, and there was an ocean view, too. But what captured her attention were the bookshelves and the enormous screen in the far end. There were four brown leather armchairs in a semicircle in front of a screen that wouldn’t have been out of place in a movie house. She turned to look at the other end of the room where there was a love seat and a Herman Miller chair, presumably for reading. This place was for two things: books and movies.
Gael’s—and Perla’s—two favorite things.
Dissecting books and movies they both loved had been one of the ways they’d bonded when they first became friends. Later, when they’d been much more than that, their shared passion had been one of the things that convinced Perla they were perfect for each other. That despite their outward differences in background and even personality, at the core they were kindred spirits. And she absolutely had to stop reminiscing; she was already on a slippery slope as it was.
Forcing herself to shake off the maudlin thoughts flooding her, she stepped into the large room. The walls were covered in a midnight blue wallpaper with little flecks of gold. The effect almost gave the sensation of being surrounded by a starry night sky. The dark wood of the built-in bookshelves and warm lighting made it cozy and inviting. It was a room for slowing down and doing the things you enjoyed. She had her own version of it in her apartment on the Upper West Side of Manhattan.
“Come over here,” Gael called, piercing through her thoughts. She turned her head to find him standing by the bookshelves. He was pointing at one of them, presumably for her to look at, but her eyes kept wanting to drift over him. He was dressed simply, in black joggers and hoodie, and he still looked imposing. Those wide shoulders tapering down to a trim waist. His powerful thighs stretching the fabric of his pants so that she could almost see the outline of his muscles. He was so intensely male. It was hard not to stare at that powerful, virile body.
“I think you’ll get a kick out of these.” Again, his voice startled her.
“Sorry,” she told him as she came closer. “I got distracted.” He gave her a long look, but didn’t comment on her obvious flustered state.
Once she was close enough, she leaned in to scan the shelf and gasped as she saw the titles of all of Gabriel García Márquez’s books. The Nobel Laureate was Perla’s favorite author, and it seemed like Gael had collectedallof his books. “Are these first editions?” she asked, feeling a little dazed. She owned a few herself, but some of the titles he had were practically impossible to find.
“They are.” He sounded more than a little pleased with himself. And she would not be foolish enough to think this man was attempting to impress her. “You might also like what I have in the next shelf.” She turned and squealed with delight to find rows and rows of romance novels. Also her favorite, and something she’d gotten Gael into in college. She’d talked him into trying them by saying he could learn about capturing the inner life of the characters, especially the heroes in the stories. She’d told him romance authors wrote big emotions like no one else, and it would help him when he needed to get into a character’s head. Gael hadn’t been too convinced, but he’d read them—he was always willing to try anything that would help him be better at his job. It didn’t take long for him to get hooked on them and soon they were swapping books.
Suddenly feeling a bit overwhelmed, Perla forced herself to straighten and step back from the old editions of Johanna Lindsey books, and turned to Gael.
“This is a lovely collection,” she said coolly, needing to keep herself at a distance. “But let’s talk business.” She forced herself to offer him a smile as she tried to shake her nerves off. “I know you probably want me out of your hair.” She didn’t wait for an answer and launched into her pitch for the show. She talked rapidly as she pulled out the full script from her bag. “I know you’re interested in this role,” she told him in a tone that brooked no argument. He just leaned into the bookshelf, a neutral look on his face. “This is a special project,” she said, confidently. “Caballero-Mendez came to us asking to write the screenplay.”
He arched an eyebrow at that, interest edging out his feigned indifference. Good call, Gabi. “Everyone involved in this project is an all-star. This project could cement your versatility as an actor.” Perla mentally patted herself on the back for managing to deliver that with a lot more confidence than she felt.
He eyed her from his stance a few feet away as if he was trying to read something on her face. Her skin heated from the intensity of his stare, and just when she was about to break, he finally spoke.
“I’m surprised you’re working for Sambrano.” That was not where she expected the conversation to go. Even if the comment was fair enough. Back when they’d been together, Perla never wasted an opportunity to affirm she had no interest in working for her father’s company.
“My family owns the studio,” she hedged and in response he arched an eyebrow that saidThat’s always been the case.She raised a shoulder, as if she was bored with the conversation, buying herself time to come up with an answer. “My sister’s the president now, and...” She trailed off, not wanting to get into this with Gael. She’d always had a tendency to spill her feelings whenever he was around.
“You never had an interest in working for your fatherorthe company.”
“That was a long time ago, Gael.” She was going to say,You have no idea about what I’m interested in, but she decided that antagonizing him was not the way to go, and before she knew it, she was telling him the truth. “My sister’s a very different leader than my father was, and she wants me there, views me as an asset. And you know what else?” She crossed her arms in an identical gesture to his. “I believe in the vision she has for the studio.”
“You’ve really changed,” he said, and she almost bristled. But his tone wasn’t judgmental or sharp. It was almost like he was thinking aloud. Putting things together.
“I have,” she confirmed, unable to keep the challenge out of her voice.
He stared at her again in that unnerving way he’d been doing since they’d come into the room. After a moment he shook himself and grabbed the script from where she’d put it on the love seat.
“All right, then. Let’s see what magic Caballero-Mendez did with this script.” With that he came to stand barely a foot away from her and opened the binder to a scene in the middle of the screenplay. “Read with me.”
Four
This was what he got from trying to be all cavalier. A fucking disaster.
