Wicked Heart (Starcrossed #3)(7)

Dammit, our budget is so screwed.

I put the cash tin away, and I’m about to go back to my rehearsal schedule when there’s a knock on the door.

“Come in.”

The door swings open to reveal Liam. Within seconds, my palms are wet.

I stand to face him. “Mr. Quinn. Do you need something? Is your lunch acceptable? If not, I’d be happy to get you something else.”

He lingers in the doorway before moving into the cramped office and closing the door behind him. He looks too big for the small room. His shoulders seem broader than I remember, and traces of ink peek out from the right sleeve of his T-shirt. That’s something he didn’t have last time I saw him up close and shirtless.

He glances around the room before coming back to my face.

He just stares for a few seconds, and dammit, I can’t believe the years haven’t diminished his effect on me. Time’s supposed to heal everything, right? Well, it hasn’t educated my heart to stop wanting a man who doesn’t want it back.

I clear my throat. “Mr. Quinn?”

He takes a step forward, and I have a moment of panic because in this enclosed space, my usual tactic to avoid and ignore is impossible.

“Elissa—”

“Mr. Quinn, if there’s something you need—”

“Stop calling me that.”

“It’s your name, sir.”

“God, Liss.” He sighs and looks me up and down. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“It’s my office. Not that hard to believe.”

“I meant on the show.”

“Marco asked me to run it.”

“I would have thought that as soon as you heard my name, you would have run a million miles.”

I don’t mention I’ve considered it. “When I accepted the job, I didn’t know you would be the star.”

The muscles in his jaw tense. “Of course you didn’t. That makes sense.” He lets out a bitter laugh and rubs the back of his neck. “If you’d known, you wouldn’t have taken it, would you?”

I try to find a nice way of saying it, but there really isn’t one. “No.”

He nods. I’d say he looks hurt, but why would he? He’s been living the Hollywood high life without any contact from me. I doubt he’s even spared me two thoughts over the past six years.

“Well, however you got here, I’m grateful.” He looks down at his hands. “I’ve missed you. More than you know.”

I almost laugh. Of course you have. In between making megabuck movies, earning millions of dollars, and banging one of the most desired women on the planet, you’ve had plenty of time to pine for the short, cheese-obsessed stage manager you once had a thing for. That makes perfect sense.

He reads something on my face and frowns. “What’s that look?”

“Nothing.”

“You don’t believe me?”

I shrug. “I wouldn’t dare question you, Mr. Quinn. That would be very unprofessional.”

There’s that look again. Hurt or disappointment—I can’t decide which. “I guess I haven’t given you much reason to have faith in what I say, have I? Just one more thing I regret about us.” There’s laughter out in the hallway, and he looks over his shoulder before coming back to me. “Speaking of us, does anyone here know about our . . . history?”

“No.”

“Not even Josh?”

“He knows we’ve been . . . intimate. That’s it.”

“Intimate.” He says it like it’s funny. “Doesn’t really do justice to what we had, does it?”

This conversation is veering off into uncomfortable areas. “Mr. Quinn—”

“Mr. Quinn is my father.”

“Your agent requested we address both yourself and Miss Bell in a formal way.”

“My agent likes to make people think we’re more important than we are. That’s his job. Don’t listen to him about anything. Especially not about me and Angel.”

God, just hearing him say that phrase ties my stomach in knots. “Me and Angel.”

“Liss, about Angel—”

“If you’re concerned that our past will cause you any discomfort, in either a professional or personal capacity, I’d like to assure you that I’m going to do everything in my power to make this experience as stress-free as possible. For both you and your . . . fiancée.”

I nearly choke on the word. Finding out he was engaged didn’t snuff out the tiny flame of hope that we’d somehow be together one day. It just stifled it, in the most painful way. “I realize this situation isn’t ideal,” I continue. “And if you tell me your concerns, I’ll be sure to address them.”

“Jesus Christ.” He rakes his fingers through his hair. “Could you please stop talking to me like you’re my bank manager? Like we don’t even know each other?”

“I don’t know you anymore.”

“You’re the only one who’s ever known me. Fuck, Liss—”

“I’d rather you call me Elissa.” He’s the only person in the world who calls me Liss, and it feels way too intimate for our current situation.

He walks forward, and I have no room left to retreat. He stands so close, I can smell him. The entire space fills with an intense energy that makes my heart pound erratically against my rib cage.