Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87863 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87863 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Maybe maturity or survival instincts kicked in. Either way, my relationships with Gray and Dad evolved accordingly. I liked to think Gray and I had an adult father-son relationship. I could go to him for advice or reassurance knowing he always had my best interest at heart. And whenever anyone asked how I felt about his much younger live-in lover…who also happened to be one of Zero’s founders and the lead singer, I could honestly say I was happy for him. Their relationship wasn’t a threat to what I had with Gray. He loved me unconditionally. The way a parent was supposed to love their kid.
Dad and I, on the other hand, were…complicated. I loved him for sure, but he wasn’t easy. The average observer would never suspect that, though. Sebastian Rourke had a reputation for being fun-loving, free-spirited, and approachable. A complete anomaly in Hollywood circles. Of course, he had to be a bit of a shark or he’d never have made a name for himself in the entertainment business. But in his personal life…let’s just say, there were days I wasn’t sure I trusted him. So walking into his office in the middle of the day to ask for advice felt like a crapshoot. He might see me, he might not. He might be intensely interested in what I had to say, or he might be distracted. Anything could happen.
I squared my shoulders, put my best ‘friendly but no-nonsense’ smile on my face and marched into Rourke Studios with purpose. I gave myself a quick pep talk as I bypassed the main lobby with a wave at the reception staff before heading down the plush hallway into inner sanctum…the executive suite. Sunlight spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows casting an ethereal glow over the expensive modern furniture. My ‘no-nonsense’ smile morphed into a real one when I spotted Dad’s longtime secretary, Trish, at her desk positioned directly outside his office.
“Charlie!” she squealed as she jumped from her chair to pull me into a warm embrace. “Is your dad expecting you? He didn’t say anything.”
“No. It’s a surprise.”
“Ah. Well, your timing is good. The BF just went on break and he was very giggly, so I’m assuming your dad is in a great mood,” Trish said with a conspiratorial wink I returned with an eye roll.
“TMI, Trish. You look fabulous, honey. What are we wearing today?” I asked, holding out a pretend microphone.
Trish chuckled at our standing joke before turning in a circle. Her red floral dress clung to her curves as she spun and her green eyes twinkled. Trish was a tall redhead in her mid-forties. She married her high school sweetheart and had three college-aged sons…all jocks. She’d been my dad’s executive secretary since he opened his studio ten years ago. I used to wonder if she was nice to me because she had to be, ’cause Lord knew I was nothing like her kids. But we’d developed a rapport of our own over the years with long-running jokes, like “Who wore what?”…a fashion critique by Trish and Charlie.
“Ross Dress for Less, last season. Don’t tell the Academy. What do you think, Charlie?” she asked, fluffing her hair as she leaned into the mic.
“Fabulous. Mum’s the word,” I said, hooking my thumb toward the closed door behind us. “How long till his next appointment?”
“One hour. Knock first…just in case Giorgio snuck back in when I wasn’t looking.”
I gave her a thumbs-up before doing as she suggested. It was unlikely that anyone would get by Trish, but the last thing I wanted was to walk in on sex in progress if I could avoid it. Been there, done that.
I opened the door to the spacious office and grinned at my father’s enthusiastic wave. He was such a goofball sometimes. He held up one finger and pointed to his cell, indicating he was finishing up a call. Then he bounded from his chair and paced to the bank of windows overlooking Century City.
“…not a chance. The crew arrives on the twentieth. They’ll start filming on the…”
I picked up the small photograph of Ollie and me in a silver frame from his desk and tuned him out. There were pictures of us everywhere in the executive wing. A few friends made the cut too, but other than Gray…no exes. And thankfully no current boyfriends. I might actually vomit if I had to look at a pic of Giorgio next to one of Oliver meeting the Easter bunny. Fine. Maturity was overrated.
My phone buzzed in my pocket just then, saving me from an unpleasant inner tirade against twinky gold diggers and middle-aged men who thought with their dicks.
Someone told me you sound like an owl, Ky texted along with a gif of an owl twisting its head in a circle.
I shook my head. Oh really…who?