Lovegame(30)

I all but begged him to take me like that and now I can barely face myself, let alone him.

I push myself up, ignoring the trembling in my knees that doesn’t seem to be going away anytime soon. I stumble into the bedroom, pick up the phone that sits on the nightstand. Then dial my agent’s number from memory.

His secretary answers on the first ring and as I wait for her to put me through, I take a few deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In through the nose, out through—

“Veronica, hi!” Cole’s voice suddenly booms in my ear, breaking the silence and my concentration. “I was going to call you in a little bit, see how the shoot went. I talked to the magazine and they’re thrilled. Said you were brilliant as always, and that the preliminary photos are astonishing. How are you feeling about the shoot? The same way?”

“Yeah.” I take another deep breath, then let it out slowly to the count of ten. “The entire shoot was great, very easy comparatively. They did the whole thing with vintage clothes and it was pretty amazing.”

“I bet. I can totally see you as the femme fatale in some 1950s film noir. Is that the vibe they were going with?”

“In some of the photos, yes. But others were lighter, more playful. I think it’s a good mix.”

“I’ll be interested to see which direction they choose—and what photos they go with. Whatever fits best with the interview, I’d guess.” He pauses—for a breath probably, since, per usual, he’s been talking eight miles a minute since he got on the phone. “How’s that going, by the way? You like Ian Sharpe? He’s supposed to be a pretty decent guy to work with. I’ve met him a couple times and really liked him. In fact, I—”

“I want you to cancel the interview.” The words come out before I even know for sure that I’m going to say them.

There’s a long pause, then, “What do you mean, Veronica? Are you all right? Where are you?” He sounds concerned. Worried, even. Not that I blame him. I’ve been his client for well over a decade and in all that time, I’ve never asked him to cancel any kind of promo for me. I’ve always shown up, always done what I was supposed to do—until today.

“I’m fine. I just…it’s a lot, you know?”

“I do know. But that’s par for the course—you’re about to start the press junket for Belladonna. Things are only going to get more hectic from here.” There are a couple beats of silence and then, “Are you sick?”

I should say yes. It would make sense to Cole, would get him off my back. But we made a promise many years ago—when it was just us against an industry that could destroy us both if we weren’t careful—that we would never lie to each other. As far as I know, we’ve both kept that pact and I’m sure as hell not going to be the one to break it now. Not over a guy I’m never going to see again.

“I’m not sick.”

“Then what’s going on, Veronica? I know for a fact that this is one of the few interviews you were looking forward to—you’ve been wanting to meet Ian Sharpe for months. So what’s changed? Did he hit on you? Did he—”

“I don’t like him,” I interrupt before he can list any other suggestions and maybe, God forbid, hit on exactly what did happen. “We’ve met twice and neither time has been exactly pleasant. I know he doesn’t have all the information he needs but he can either write the article with the info he does have or Vanity Fair can scrap the article. At this point I don’t really care which. But I will not meet with him again. Do you understand?”

Again there’s a shocked silence from Cole’s end of the phone and if I wasn’t so freaked out about seeing Ian again, I’d probably relent. But there’s no way I’m letting him poke around in my head again, no way I’m giving him a chance to ask more of his deep, probing questions—especially considering all the new ammunition I gave him today. No way in hell.

I’m the biggest sex symbol in Hollywood right now and with that status comes full diva privileges. Just because I’ve never used them before doesn’t mean I don’t know how. I learned from the best, after all.

“Call his people, tell them I’m sick. Tell them I’m busy. Tell them I’d rather go parachuting in hell before meeting with him again—I don’t care what you tell him. But I’m done, and so is his interview with me. Understand?”

“I do. Absolutely. And I’ll take care of it.” Cole clears his throat and I can all but see the wheels turning in his head. “Are you sure you’re all right? Did something happen…did he…”

“I’m fine, Cole.” Even I can hear how short and off I sound. I take a moment to breathe, then deliberately soften my voice. “Honest, I am. I just need to never have to see Ian Sharpe again.”





Chapter 9


“Are you kidding me?” I shove off the bed where I was working before my agent called and start pacing back and forth across the red-and-gold carpeting of my hotel suite. “Veronica Romero has blackballed me?”

“She hasn’t blackballed you,” he answers soothingly. “She just doesn’t have time for another meeting, so she’s hopeful you got everything you needed in the first two.”

“Yeah, well, hope springs eternal, doesn’t it?” I shove a hand through my hair, frustrated beyond belief that she’s pulling this. I’m not surprised, necessarily, just frustrated. And furious. “How the hell could I have gotten what I needed, Mitch, when she totally stonewalled me at our first meeting?”