Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“Right.” He packed a lot of sarcasm in that one syllable, then had the gall to look at me like the human equivalent of a piece of bubblegum stuck to the bottom of his shoe. The nerve!
“Wait a second. Why would Mr. Gowan lie? He has nothing to gain.”
“But maybe you do,” he suggested.
Cue another jaw drop. This one bigger than the first.
Grrrrr. I stomped my foot in frustration.
Less than an hour ago, the idea of being this close to greatness had made me woozy. Now…not so much.
I was a good seven inches shorter than Pierce Allen, so I doubted I incited fear in my foe as I stepped into his space, but I gave it my all, pinning him with a menacing once-over.
“You know what? I don’t like you. I think you’re a coward for hiding behind a sick old man, pretending to be a nice guy who goes the extra mile for his fans. You’re just…gross,” I huffed impotently. “For your information, I’ve never watched one of your movies, and I never will.”
“Ouch. That hurt,” he deadpanned.
“It should. And what makes you think you aren’t related anyway?”
His careless shrug carried weight. I’d never met anyone whose every move seemed significant. I might not like this man, but I couldn’t help but be in awe of his sheer magnetism. And yes…I was equally annoyed that I wasn’t immune.
“I can tell.”
“How?”
“It doesn’t matter.” He adjusted his sunglasses and stepped backward.
“Of course it matters. You can’t whimsically impugn his honor. Mr. Gowan is a good man.” I seethed. “You, sir, are the one with sinister intent.”
Pierce rolled his eyes. “I’m not here for anything sinister. It was a fucking photo with a long-lost cousin. That’s the story, and we’ll stick with it. As for whatever your angle is, I’d advise you to let it go.”
I gasped in outrage and gritted my teeth as I closed the distance between us again, willing myself to ignore the heady scent of his cologne ’cause damn it, he smelled sexy and delicious and— Not helping. Focus, Lo.
“You. Are. An asshole. A superstar douche,” I growled. “A real jerk. I was going to ask for a selfie, but you know what? Fuck you, Pierce Allen. Just…fuck you.”
Okay, that was a crude and inelegant exit, completely lacking in finesse, grace, or style, but oooh, that man grinded my gears. How dare he accuse me of being the mastermind behind some warped star-catcher scheme! And did he really have the nerve to turn my concerns regarding his intentions with Mr. Gowan on me and infer that I was responsible for orchestrating…this? Me?
I was so mad I couldn’t see straight. I pulled my keys from my man bag and marched past the armed guard chauffeuring Mr. High and Mighty. It took every ounce of self-control I possessed not to flip him off on my way to my car, but I couldn’t resist flashing one last killer glare his way.
I hoped to God I never saw that man again.
Ever. Ever. Ever.
3
PIERCE
“What was that all about?”
I fastened my seat belt with more care than necessary and surreptitiously watched the hot-heated cutie stomp away. “Nothing. He was just…curious about our intentions.”
Janet snorted. “You mean he wants to know how he can cash in.”
I grunted, turning my attention to my cell, hopefully signaling that I was officially out of words. I didn’t want to talk. Period. I needed a few minutes to process what had just gone down. Meeting a phony long-lost family member who somehow had a fucking photo of my mother had put me off my game, and grinning along like it was all no big deal had required some serious acting chops.
Christ, some days I was better at my job than anyone suspected.
The SUV pulled out of the driveway, pausing to wait for a car to pass before easing onto the residential street. And there he was again, angrily flinging open the door of his BMW and tossing his bag onto the passenger seat. He was pissed, and I was…shook.
I didn’t know what to think. I mean, sure, his presence might have been a weird coincidence, and he might be exactly what he claimed to be…a friend. It was just that everyone I knew had an angle.
I’d admit, there was a chance that playing a fictitious crime buster and justice leaguer had given me a false sense of righteousness. Maybe accusing Lorenzo of being a puppeteer had been too harsh.
Was I a dick? Probably. But I sensed something was off. No one fucked with my mom’s memory to get to me. No way. Maybe it was best to walk away and forget about it, but this felt like a potential loose end, and I couldn’t afford to have another one of those pop up now.
Fuck.
Seb’s secretary, Trish, had told me the waiter and my female companion at the Golden Globes had recently met with casting directors. Then she’d hit me with one of those motherly sighs and a sad smile that wordlessly begged me to get my shit together. I was trying.