Lovegame(115)

I sign autographs for a gaggle of college-aged girls—all of whom are sweet and complimentary and so excited to be here, and then turn to keep walking only to get stopped by Bryan Jenkins, the entertainment reporter I despise the most. I sidestepped him when I first took to the red carpet, but it looks like he abandoned his post to get this sound bite with me.

Not that I should be surprised. He’s just one more man determined to get what he wants from me whether I want to give it or not.

“Veronica, thank you so much for stopping. How are you this evening?” He shoves his microphone in my face.

“I’m doing very well, thank you. I’m so excited to be here tonight. The fans are wonderful as always.” I pause and wave to a couple of girls who are screaming my name. “Plus I’m so excited to finally see Belladonna in all its glory. I can’t wait to hear what people think of it.”

“People are going to love it!” he gushes.

“That’s very kind of you to say. I certainly hope they do.”

“What’s not to love?” he says with a sly grin. “You all dressed up with a side of crazy? It’s right in your wheelhouse, isn’t it?”

You bastard. You f*cking coward, taking a swipe at me all in good fun because you think I can’t fire back. Well, f*ck you, then. “Absolutely,” I tell him, all toothy smile and wide, Bambi eyes. “Being able to experiment a little is what I love best about acting.”

“I bet,” Bryan says and steps away, the camera panning back to the crowd.

I step forward then, leaning in so that I can stroke a hand up his arm to his shoulder before walking my fingers slowly, slowly, down his chest. I let my eyes go all blurry and lick my tongue along my bottom lip as I lean even closer. He’s all but gagging for it—which is exactly how I want him—as another network’s camera pans over to us and holds. “Darling,” I whisper when my mouth is only inches from his ear, “you’d do well to remember that crazy isn’t the only thing in my wheelhouse.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, so lost in the spell I’ve created that he forgets himself and reaches for me. I dance away before he can get his disgusting hands anywhere near me, leaving him standing there on national television with empty arms and a very obvious erection.

It’s the little things that make this job so worthwhile.

I’m grinning for real when I stop to talk to another group of girls and we have a grand time taking selfies together and chatting about all the beautiful dresses on display tonight. They’re at the end of the red carpet—the perfect way to finish my walk to the theater, and I blow them kisses as I turn around to give the crowd and photographers the money shot—me, standing alone in front of the doors to Grauman’s theater—banners of the Belladonna on either side of me.

I hold the pose long enough for all the cameras to flash and then I scan the crowd, waving back at all the fans that are waving at me. I’m about to turn around, about to head inside, when I scan past a pair of familiar, dark eyes.

I turn my head a little, scan back toward them. And find myself staring straight into Ian’s black magic eyes.

My whole body wigs out, flashing from hot to cold to hot again. My hands tremble, my knees lock and my breath catches in my throat. I nearly go down, probably would have if my pride hadn’t kicked in and turned my spine ramrod straight. No way am I falling in front of all these cameras. No way am I turning myself into a laughingstock for him.

Fuck that and f*ck him. He nearly destroyed me once. I’ll be damned if he does it again.

I narrow my eyes at him slightly, then smile extra wide. Just before I bring my hand to my lips and blow him a kiss.

And there it is. The money shot that will be on every entertainment website in the country by tomorrow morning. A nice little memento for Ian to remember me by.





Chapter 33


It’s two o’clock in the morning and I’m sitting on Veronica’s porch, just drunk enough not to care that this is a very, very bad idea. She should be home any minute—if she’s coming home, that is. The online gossip site that had exclusive access to the Belladonna party said she left half an hour ago.

As I check again for any new updates, I try not to think about how pathetic it is that this is all the contact I currently have with her. Gossip updates from a popular website that I didn’t even know existed before tonight.

Fuck. How the mighty have fallen.

Maybe I should have gone—to the premiere and the party. But I didn’t want to speak to her in a room full of people, where she was on her guard and prepared for whatever might get thrown at her. I want to talk to her, to really talk to her, and to do that I need her to be alone. I need her to be willing to let me in.

And I don’t just mean to her house.

Originally, I’d planned on waiting for morning. I figured I’d call, see if she’d let me take her out to brunch or something. But after seeing her at the premiere, I changed my mind. Kind of hard not to after she blew me that kiss. Everyone else was charmed, but I recognized it for what it was. Fuck you and goodbye all rolled into one glamorous purse of her f*ck-me red lips.

Yeah, she won’t be answering any phone calls or texts from me. That much is glaringly apparent.

I’m not okay with that, which is why I ended up sneaking over the fence into her neighborhood when the guard was distracted with another visitor. I’m not going to let her ignore me. I’m not going to let her just throw us away, no matter how much I deserve to suffer.