But I had a bad feeling that wasn’t going to happen.
One torturous hour later, I walked out of the room and headed for the stairwell. I didn’t have the patience to wait for an elevator. I took the steps two at a time to the exit and strode purposely toward the mini park next to my office, making sure I was alone before scrolling for Charlie’s number.
“There you are,” he answered on the first ring. “You know, I received a very interesting message about your firm buying out Trent’s—”
“Did you say anything to him?” I intercepted.
“Trent? No. I called to tell you I’m very peeved. No, I’m astonished and perplexed and every other adjective in the thesaurus under flabbergasted.”
“Charlie…”
“How did I go from worrying that your one-night stand with the waiter would lead to personal life scrutiny that might affect my client to wondering if we’re about to be completely overshadowed by the waiter’s meteoric rise to fame in the form of a sixty-second action-packed ad campaign for your movie?”
I stalked to the bench and stared at the petals of a red rose. “Stop calling him the waiter.”
Charlie waited a beat. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say? What am I supposed to do now? You told me you wouldn’t undermine me, but this feels like a big FU. How could you do this? You manufactured this story behind the scenes, set me up, set Trent up, and you didn’t even have the decency to call me yourself. You had someone in marketing do your dirty work and—”
“I didn’t do it,” I hissed. “I didn’t know about it, Char.”
“You know everything. It’s your studio!”
“I delegated. I let marketing take over, and this was what they came up with. I was just briefed on it now,” I replied in a gravelly tone. “And you know, it’s a great idea.”
“Grr, I could refuse to let you buy his contract.”
“You could. But it’ll come out—it always does. And the headlines wouldn’t be pretty. ‘Actor’s Career Thwarted by Rock Star.’ Or something like that.”
“So…you win,” he snarked unhappily.
No, I lose. I fucking lose.
More silence. “Dad? Are you there?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“You got quiet. What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing. I’ll talk to him.”
Charlie didn’t speak for so long I thought he’d disconnected the call. I wouldn’t have blamed him. I wouldn’t have wanted to talk to me either.
“Fine. But, um…you might want to know that Trent asked me to break the contract after you got back from London.”
I frowned. “He did?”
“He refused all funds deposited into his account. Obviously, I’ll make sure he gets the money, but I kept the contract for insurance purposes. I’ll release him if that’s what he wants…and I’m charging you extra.”
I rested my elbows on my knees. “All right.”
“Dad…you’re scaring me. You sound upset. I know you like him, but—”
“I have to go, Char. I’m sorry. I’ll call you later.”
I sat on that bench for a few minutes, numbly staring into space. I did what I always did when I felt overwhelmed and unsure of my next move…I asked myself: What would Baxter do?
Nothing came to me. I wasn’t surprised.
I didn’t want to be Baxter. I wanted to be me. Sebastian Rourke.
But I wasn’t sure who that guy was anymore. Moreover, I was afraid to discover he wasn’t worthy of a man like Trent Mackay.
14
TRENT
My mom always said that some people didn’t hear warning bells or blaring sirens until it was too late. Of course, she quoted in Italian and had a habit of forgetting a key word or two when she translated her homespun sayings into English, so she’d say, “Some people love to run to sirens…you know, like on the police cars.” She was right. Not the police car part, but the rest was spot on. It took a special kind of clueless to ignore your intuition, right?
I wasn’t a moron. I never actively ran toward danger, but I found myself in situations that I could have been more prepared to face if I’d asked a few pointed questions.
For example, when I walked into Seb’s inner chamber office, I should have asked Trish why she seemed agitated. I should have asked why his door was closed if he was expecting me, and maybe even asked about his mood. If nothing else, I’d know whether to suggest grabbing takeout on the way to his place or a drink at the fancy bar he liked downtown. But no…I didn’t do the question thing ’cause I was either a glutton for punishment or I secretly enjoyed being blindsided.
“You ready? Let’s go.” I waltzed into his office and clapped obnoxiously.
Seb frowned over the rim of his reading glasses as he pushed away from his computer. “You’re here.”
“Yep, and I’m hungry. I don’t care where we go, but I need big portions. And a drink.” I stood next to his desk, circling my wrist meaningfully. “Chop-chop.”