Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46914 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46914 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
“My characters are all that matters,” I tell Aurora. “My art.”
She sits opposite me, clasping her hands together as though praying for me to be less of a grumpy asshole.
But I can’t help it.
I’ve gone too long without feeling warmth.
I even stopped trying to date nine years ago when Maxwell died. He was the happy, upbeat twin. It’s like he took that side of me with him… if I ever had it.
“You won’t have to make appearances with this Kennedy woman,” Aurora goes on. “Just publicly state you couldn’t stand by and let them insult her.”
“She’s leeched onto this like a pro,” I sigh. “As soon as the shit hit the fan, she was there, phone in hand, getting ready to take a selfie, telling the world this lie with people believing her, people following her.”
“Exactly. It’s good for us. What’s the problem?”
“You told me she’s been chasing fame for a long time.”
“Yes,” Aurora says. “Her social media shows that clearly. Lots of posts on all the platforms, chasing trends, and stuff like that. What’s the issue?”
“I’ve never wanted fame for fame’s sake,” I say. “And I find it difficult to respect people who do.”
I became an actor because I couldn’t figure out how to be myself and stand the memories of home, with a dad reeking of whiskey and a life that always felt like it was on the edge. I lived with the pain of not knowing when my old man would fly into his next rage.
“You don’t need to respect her,” Aurora says. “You simply need to not contradict her publicly. Or privately, for that matter, since this is on a strictly need-to-know basis. Only me and a couple of others in the company know.”
“I get it.”
Standing, I roll my head from side to side, stretching out my neck. I had a hard morning in the gym, my body sore in the best way, allowing me to distract myself from the darkness creeping in at the edges of my mind.
A knock comes at the door, causing Aurora to turn.
“Come in.”
The door opens.
The darkness lifts for the first time since my brother’s death.
A woman walks into the room, young and beautiful, with flushed cheeks and brown wavy hair to her shoulders… the wavy hair from my dreams.
She’s wearing business attire, her black skirt clinging to her wide hips, the shape of her thighs pushing through the material as if begging me to squeeze them, to please her.
Her lips are shaped into an uneven nervousness, her eyes flitting all over the place.
They’re green, and her eyes are piercing despite her shyness.
Her white shirt hugs her large breasts, making my hands clench as I put them behind my back, trying to restrain myself from jumping across the table and sweeping her into my arms.
In my mind, I’m already kissing her, tasting her lips, my hands gliding down her body to press on her sides, her hips, ass, and legs… everything.
“This is Alice,” Aurora tells me. “One of our most promising interns.”
Aurora gives me a look that tells me to keep quiet about the Kennedy lie. Clearly, Alice doesn’t know the truth.
Alice glances at me briefly, a smile forming across her lips.
They were made for kissing… but only by me.
Only by me.
The phrase repeats in my mind, hitting me with the force of certainty as I become aware of an embarrassing fact….
My manhood is getting hard, as though on instinct. Something inside of me is telling me to take this woman somewhere private and make our future happen.
Our future, as though such a thing already exists, as though we aren’t strangers.
Aurora looks at me, looks at Alice, then back at me, waiting for my response.
“Hello,” I say after a pause, not wanting to be rude even as I find it insanely difficult to speak without my voice trembling. “It’s nice to meet you.”
She glances at me, tension touching her gorgeous features. “And you, Mr. Wyatt.”
“Call me Weston,” I say instantly.
She is, after all, the woman I’ve been waiting for.
CHAPTER 2
Alice
When he says, ‘Call me Weston,’ I’m sure I’m going to wake up back in mine and my sister’s cruddy apartment… an apartment way, way, way outside of this glamorous world with the Hollywood sign staring at us through the tall windows.
Weston is wearing a baggy T-shirt and faded blue jeans, his hands behind his back, causing his torso to press through the fabric of his shirt, outlining every huge muscle.
He’s at least six and a half feet tall.
His features seem tougher than in the movies… as though without his characters infusing him, he’s able to let his savage side take over.
He’s forty-one years old, almost twice my age, with an Oscar to his name and multiple box office hits.
He could have any woman he wanted.
Kennedy….
That’s the woman he defended in the restaurant, the woman he flew into a wild rage for, with her enhanced breasts, Botox cheeks, and her cartoon figure, with a big butt but a tiny waist.