I wanted to ask again if the publicity was that important, but I had already insulted him enough for one day.
As always, he seemed to read me anyway. “I thought I would do it at the Oscars,” he admitted. “On the red carpet.”
My mouth dropped open in shock, which Adam seemed to find hilarious.
“It’s just…you’ve never been much for public displays of affection,” I tried to explain. “Even with Savannah.”
“I do wonder if that was more of Savannah’s influence,” he said, scuffing his toes in the sand. “Linnea is very open with my physical affection, and I find myself enjoying it immensely.”
I fought the urge to reach for his hand, the fantasy of holding it while we walked down the beach a long-ingrained dream.
“Do you think she would hate it?” Adam asked. “I already made some calls, but I could change the plan. I want her to…” He sighed and rubbed a hand down his chin. “I want her to want to say yes.”
“Honestly? No, I think she would laugh and find it delightfully over the top,” I said with a chuckle as I rubbed my stubbled jaw. “Your team would love the photo op, too.”
Adam raised a cool brow at me. “They would. Something can accomplish two things at once. Someone with experience in a ménage might understand that.”
He startled me into chuckling. “Touché.”
“It’s why I’d like to have a more private moment, too. One I’d very much like you to be part of.”
I gave in to the impulse to bump my shoulder into his, and when I did, Adam rewarded me with that small, tender smile he used to give me in London. It still had the ability to stop my heart in its tracks.
“What did you have in mind?” I asked.
27
LINNEA
Preparing for the Critics Choice Awards had barely prepared me for the Academy Awards. This was Hollywood’s shining award ceremony, the one to be nominated for and seen at. Sebastian was being nominated for Best Actor, and Adam was presenting for the category of Best Picture. They had to be primped and prodded by a team of makeup artists, fashion stylists, and hairdressers, but they were still done long before I was.
Five women were working on me, one for my nails, another for my hair, one for my makeup, and two more for styling with one specializing particularly in jewelry. Adam had rented a number of options from Tiffany’s for the evening based on three dress options the stylist had okayed from my designs. I knew as soon as I saw the enormous yellow diamond pendant at the end of a sleek yellow gold choker that I had to wear the gown I’d labored over for the past week. It was a golden yellow silk gown with a flowing A-line skirt and a bodice constructed of carefully overlapping and hand-stitched swathes of delicate fabric that resembled flower petals.
Even Eleanor, the stylist, clicked her tongue as she helped me step into the fragile silk and fasten it at my back. It fit like a dream, hugging and emphasizing the nip in my waist and drawing subtle attention to my leg through the slit of the dress and the roundness of my breasts above the bodice.
“I was skeptical when Chaucer told me you were wearing something you designed yourself,” Eleanor explained. “But you look absolutely gorgeous and completely one of a kind.”
I beamed at her because a compliment from an A-List stylist was as good as gold. “Thank you, that means a lot.”
“The hair helps,” Joey, the hairstylist, added with a cheeky wink as he carefully patted a few stray hairs down with an eyebrow brush coated in hairspray.
“It does,” I agreed, because he had coaxed my wavy, often unruly hair into perfect retro Hollywood glam waves that gleamed just a few shades lighter than the dress.
“If I didn’t love you,” Rozhin said from where she sat on the bed in “my” room, though I hadn’t slept there in over a week. “I would punch you for looking so damn stunning. You’ll give normal women everywhere a complex.”
I laughed, tossing a cotton ball at her over my shoulder. “So dramatic. Are we sure you aren’t the wannabe actress?”
“There is no ‘wannabe’ about it,” she corrected, standing up to come just behind and beside me in the full-length reflection of the mirror. I towered over her in my five-inch heels that would put me at eye level with Adam and Sebastian. “You’re a bona fide celebrity now, honeycakes. Dating one of the hottest men in Hollywood and being…friendly with another.” She paused to let me fill in the blanks, but I skittered my gaze over the crew of beauticians who had started to pack up around us, and she took the hint. “Your episodes in the hottest comedy on television are airing in a few weeks, you’ve been cast in a Georges Galagoesfilm,andSebastian has promised you a leading role in the first film he’s written sinceBlood Oath.”
She sighed heavily. “Soon, I’ll just be a footnote in the life and times of Linnea Kai.”
“Never,” I promised, tugging her into my side for a hug. “I don’t know how I would have made it through those first few months in LA without you, Ro. You’re stuck with me for life.”
She hummed but hugged me back briefly before stepping away to look at Miranda, who was seated in a wheelchair in the corner by the window. She had been quiet, but fairly lucid for the first couple of hours we were getting ready; even excited that I asked the nail tech to do her nails. However, now she had zoned out. It made my heart ache to see her stare vacantly into the distance, but I reminded myself I was doing all I could for her.
She seemed to be thriving as much as she could living in the guesthouse, which was much more spacious and well-appointed than her own house, and with the lovely nurses, Bituin, Jasmine, and Reyna.
That alone would have made my arrangement with Adam worth it.
