* * *
She squeezes my hand hard enough to get my attention in the back of the SUV as we head to the charity event. It’s still weird having her hand in mine and not a cold, wet nose. I’m still adjusting to Pongo not being here with me tonight. I avoid bringing him to smaller events. It’s more difficult to pass him off as a pet. They’re expecting a huge crowd tonight, though, just what he’s trained for.
I love my dog, but having her here with me tonight is far more important. Besides, I’m pretty sure he’s been teaching Ren some of my tells. She’s picked up on them over the last few weeks and sees right through me when I try to hide. She can tell when the self-doubt, the worry, and the massive imposter syndrome take hold of me.
It’s been a while since I had someone I cared about come to an industry event with me, especially one as big and high profile as this one. Usually it’s my agent or someone else from the agency. I’ve brought a girlfriend or two before and had a few break up with me because I wouldn’t bring them. Cassie hated these damn events with their glitz and glamour, so I stopped asking her to go. That should have marked the beginning of the end of our relationship, but I’m too stubborn to see warning signs and she was too stubborn to realize she couldn’t change me.
The press noticed right away, and our apparent breakup became the running headline for weeks. It made the paps even more desperate for pictures of us out in public. It’s crazy to see some of the supposed experts they get on body language to discuss the photos and try to make out details that just aren’t there.
Our hands were too far apart when we sat at dinner. I wasn’t standing close enough to her when we were out around town. We never looked at each other with love in our eyes. That’s what they ran with from a handful of blurry, shitty photos. They never mentioned the triple-digit heat wave outside or how we’d kissed, but they hadn’t timed their shot right. That didn’t generate sales as much as our implosion as a couple. That’s when they manufactured a fake dating rumor. They still throw that one out from time to time.
I climb out of the car and a frenzy of flashbulbs blind me; I’m used to it. They limited the number of press photographers in this section of the property, so it’s only a handful and a something of a warmup for Ren. When I take her hand and she steps out of the car, she exudes royalty and her eyes never leave mine. Her confident smile brings the same out in me. I don’t even hear what the photographers are yelling at us. I don’t care.
“I’ll never understand why getting out of a car became so photograph worthy,” she asks, looking around but trying not to be obvious about it.
“Ask the female celebrities,” I reply with a wink.
“Oh. That explains why you stood so close to the door when you opened it for me.”
“Damn right. They’re not taking underwear shots of my girl. Hell, are you even wearing any?”
Her devilish grin tells me I’m right and my heart drums against my ribs. I’m going to spend the whole night thinking of excuses to sneak off with her to a bathroom or down some back hall. I should ask if this place has a wine cellar.
Once we’re inside, there’s an area designated for the guests to meet and mingle before the dinner. It’s so loud, with conversations and laughter echoing off the walls, I don’t know how anyone hears each other. However, most of the people in this room are only here to listen to one person—themselves. I snag two glasses of champagne from a tray as the waiter walks by.
“Is this champagne?” she asks, taking a quick sniff of the glass I handed her. “I’ve never had champagne. What’s it like?”
“It, uhm, tickles? I dunno. I’m not a big fan, but you kind of get used to it after a while.” She smiles and everyone in the room disappears. I lean forward and kiss her on the cheek, whispering, “I can’t take my eyes off of you, Ms. Silva.”
“You never can, Puppy.” She winks. She’s not wrong. Her fingernail taps on my glass. “So you drink things even though you don’t like them?”
“Yeah, comes with the territory. Weird food, too. Some on set, some at parties. You kind of learn how to stop tasting things, I guess.” She raises an eyebrow and I laugh. “There are still things I can taste just fine. The food I make, a smooth whiskey, oh, and you. And if you keep looking at me like that, I’ll toss you on one of those platters and show everyone just how hungry I am for you.”
She takes the champagne flute and tips it back. I don’t know what she’s expecting, but her hand touches her nose and she giggles. Electricity collects at my spine before bursting through my body. I want her. Now. I want to drop to my knees and worship her right here in front of the entire crowd of stodgy, rich people.
“Yeah, you were right. It tickles!” The giggle ripples through her, and they’re contagious. She takes my hand and drags me away from the wall, and further into the room where everyone mingles and mulls about. “I want to see you at work, Puppy. I don’t mean the movies, I’ve seen those. I want to see you become this Hollywood golden boy right here in front of me.”
I shrug and look around, but before I can find someone I trust, people crowd around us, asking both of us questions and chatting away as we float between cliques.
I’m impressed when I see how easily she fits in with wave after wave of famous Hollywood types. She’s effortless. Unfazed when she’s socializing with the rich and famous, as they brag about their wealth or fame. No one knows who she is, but they all assume she’s on their side and not their staff. She commands the room with a glance, and tomorrow morning, while these assholes are sleeping off cocaine hangovers, she’ll be driving her sputtering, broken down Fiat to teach at an unassuming grade school. It would blow their minds.
“So what do you do?” One of the big shot producers asks, as if he can read my mind. We met at another industry event, and I’m not thrilled he’s here. He’s part of the upper elite of Hollywood to survive theMe Toomovement unscathed. Well, not entirely. They took him down a few pegs, but he could stand a few more. They should have taken him down to hell and locked him away for good.
“I teach.” She’s brilliant. She’s mastered giving them enough information to answer their question, but leaving them wanting more.
“Ah! A scholar amongst men! Brilliant! Let me guess, art history? Something as beautiful as you?”
I step closer to her, my hand resting on her hip with a gentle squeeze. She makes a show of moving her drink to the other hand so she can reach behind me and grab my ass. I don’t think I’ve ever had a woman claim me like this in public. Grope without permission, yes. I want her to do it again. I can’t stop fantasizing about her leading a pack of these clowns on leashes and collars down Hollywood Boulevard. Humiliating them the way they deserve. It’s giving me a hard on and making my head spin because I’d beg to be right there with them.
“Ah, no. My degree in robotics.”
“Chase, my friend,” the guy slurs, and he definitely isn’t my friend. He’s ogling her and I don’t like it. “You are one lucky son of a bitch to be climbing into?—”
“Watch yourself, Eddie.”
“Fair!” He holds his drink up as his eyes travel to someone new and shiny, and he’s stumbling across the room to drape himself all over a young blonde.
“Did he make you jealous, Puppy?”
