Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 123873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 619(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 619(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Brendan rocked back, before hugging her awkwardly with a smile. “Don’t thank me. Thank the studio heads. I’ll set up a meeting so you can negotiate terms you’re happy with.”
Cillian paused on the steps, just watching them, his heart so full he could hardly contain it. Brendan lifted his head, watching him over the top of Sophie’s head. Dark brown eyes softened…before Brendan extended a hand to Cillian.
Please, that hand said.
And while everyone in the auditorium clapped, shouted, cheered…
Cillian stepped up onto the stage, and slipped his fingers into Brendan’s.
That warm, beloved touch.
That hand closing around his, drawing him in.
And Brendan’s heat as suddenly Cillian was wrapped up in strong arms, caught in the crush of Brendan and Sophie, and he’d never felt more amazing in his life.
Here. Now. Everything he’d ever wanted was here…and he choked back a cry as he buried his face in Brendan’s shoulder and wrapped his arm around his neck.
“I love you,” he whispered. “I love you, and I’d have waited forever for you to figure out you love me, too.”
“I’m not cruel enough to make you wait for forever,” Brendan murmured into his hair, teasing with rough laughter. “But I am going to make you wait for a kiss…when right now the whole world is watching, and there’s a young woman currently stuck to me like a burr.”
“Oh, don’t mind me,” Sophie chirped. “You go right ahead.”
“Not sharing,” Cillian said, and pressed even tighter into Brendan. “You arsehole.”
“I know I am,” Brendan said. “But I’m an asshole who loves you—and I don’t care if the whole world knows.”
“But there’s something else the world needs to know,” Sophie said, and pulled away from Brendan, giving Cillian a significant look. “Are you ready?”
…ah, fuck.
Cillian swallowed, nodding, his heart turning inside out. “I’m ready. But…I…” He looked up at Brendan. “Stay with me? I don’t think I can do this without you.”
Brendan’s arm only tightened around him. “I’ll be wherever you need, Cillian…but what’s going on?”
“Just watch,” Cillian said, and tried not to tremble. “And you’ll see.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
AT SOPHIE’S NUDGING, BRENDAN STEPPED aside, giving her the podium—and taking Cillian with him. Cillian who had run so eagerly into his arms; Cillian who…who could still look at him with such warmth, even after the hurt Brendan had caused.
He didn’t understand it.
How Cillian could be so forgiving.
But he could be grateful.
And he could hold fast to Cillian’s shaking hand as Sophie took the mic and began, “Before we arrived today, Cillian and I filmed a joint statement that we’d like to play back for you now. Some may find the content of this video disturbing, but I hope you’ll listen and take our messages to heart.”
A faint clattering grind came from behind them, and Brendan turned, watching as a massive flatscreen lowered from above. He cocked his head curiously; what was this, then?
He got his answer, as the picture flickered to life—Cillian and Sophie, both clearly in the middle of getting dressed and doing their hair before the awards ceremony, leaning against each other and looking straight at the camera with apparent nervousness, and yet…determination. Brendan glanced down at Cillian at his side, squeezing his hand, but Cillian’s eyes were fixed on the screen, his jaw tight, his eyes wide.
He's afraid, Brendan realized, and gathered Cillian close against his side.
It’s all right.
Whatever you’re afraid of…
I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.
On the screen, the recorded Sophie and Cillian began to speak. “Hi, I’m Sophie Ling.”
“And I’m Cillian Tell.”
“We’re the stars of the recently released period romance, Heart of Snow. We had an amazing time working together on the film, getting to know everyone on the cast and crew. We’re so proud of all of you!” Sophie said.
“And so grateful to each of you,” Cillian added. “Except there’s one person we need to talk about. One person who deserves not gratitude…but for the world to know just who and what he is.” On the screen, Cillian’s breaths shook; next to Brendan, the real Cillian echoed, trembling breaths passing parted lips. “Our director—Oliver Newcomb. Newcomb is a serial sexual predator. He cornered me in my dressing room and attempted to sexually assault me. If Brendan hadn’t interrupted, I don’t know what would have happened. Newcomb terrorized me on set every day. Bullying. Threats. Even with the protection of someone more influential, Newcomb wouldn’t stop. And he tried again. And again. And again, no matter how often I said no.”
“And Cillian’s not the only one,” Sophie said, and Brendan…
Brendan’s gut twisted, torn between shock, horror that Sophie had been a target as well…and pride.
Pride in both of them, that they’d taken this stand.
On the screen, Sophie continued, “Newcomb attempted to fondle me in the back of a limousine after luring me out under the pretext of a post-production cast dinner. I had to fight him off, and when I did…he threatened to end my career. He’s done it to others. In the months since filming, I’ve been reaching out to other actors and actresses he’s worked with. Every last one of them is willing to enter testimony covering years of sexual assault, abuse, more.” The on-screen Sophie smiled bravely—while the real Sophie looked up at the video with her expression strange and fixed, lips parted, tears glimmering in her eyes. “You’re done, Oliver Newcomb. You’re not hurting anyone anymore.”