Chapter 17
Flynn
Felicity's visit was no surprise. With our history, I'd known that she'd come looking for me sooner or later. But as far as the timing, it sucked balls.
From the front porch, I watched as Anna rushed toward the limo driver and greeted him like they were old friends.
I frowned.Were they old friends? Or something more?
Compared to Anna, the guy was at least ten years older and not nearly as good-looking. But hey, maybe she wasn't as picky as she used to be, back when she'd been the princess of the town, and I'd been just another serf living in her daddy's kingdom.
Still, when the guy smiled like he might be interested, I didn't like it – not because I had a thing for her. It was because I didn't need another hitch in my plans.
Yeah, that had to be it.
In front of me, Felicity said, "Well? Aren't you going to invite me in?"
I was still looking at Anna. "No."
"But why not?"
I looked back to Felicity and said, "Because I don't feel like tossing you out later." Ugly or not, this was the stone-cold truth. Letting her in? That was the easy part. But getting rid of her? It wouldn't be so easy, especially with all those suitcases.
"Oh, get real," she said. "You wouldn’t do that." But then, she hesitated. "Would you?"
Felicity and I had a history, and it wasn't nearly as nice as everyone thought. Counting the upcoming release, we'd costarred in three films together and had been an item off and on for the past four years.
On screen, it worked. But in real life? Not so much.
I gave her a hard look. "What doyouthink?"
Her lips formed a practiced pout. "I think you're still mad about the thing with Larry."
Larry Bellarue – he was a married movie producer with roaming hands and a thing for blue-eyed blondes. A couple of months ago, he'd started sucking up to Felicity, looking to cast her in his next movie.
In the process, he'd gotten a little too friendly, and I – dumb-ass that I was – decided to have a chat with the guy. During that chat, I'd told him to keep his hands to himself – and other parts, too, while he was at it.
Now, here's the thing. If Felicity wanted him, hey that was her decision. But she'd been griping for days that someone should tell the guy to lay off or else.
The way I saw it, that someone was me.
I was, after all, the guy sharing Felicity's bed.
But now, she was saying, "I just don't get why you were so unpleasant to him."
Unpleasant, huh?I'd wanted to beat the guy's ass until he screamed for mercy. Nowthatwould've been unpleasant – for him, not me.
But I'd barely touched the guy.
Now, all I said was, "The guy's a pussy."
Her lips pursed. "Well, youdidthreaten him."
"Yeah? So?"
She made a sound of frustration. "It's just not how things are done."
When it came to Hollywood, Felicity was an expert in how things were done. She'd been a child star. And unlike most of her costars who'd already been chewed up and spit out, she'd made the unlikely transition from kid actor to bonafide movie star.
