Lovegame(71)

“Of course you did.” She crooks a brow. “Always the reporter, Ian?”

“Always the writer,” I correct her.

“Is there a difference?”

“Sometimes.”

She laughs again, ushers me along. “You are entirely too affable for your own good, you know that?”

“And here I thought being affable was a good thing.”

“It is…as long as it’s not a mask to hide something else entirely.”

It’s my turn to crook a brow. “I thought I was the profiler here?”

“Darling, you don’t survive in this town as long as I have without knowing how to read people.”

It’s the opening I’ve been waiting for. “Do you ever make mistakes in reading people? Ever trust someone you shouldn’t?”

“Not very often.” There’s a long pause before she admits, “But that just means when you do make a mistake, it’s a big one.”

“I can imagine.” I follow her down another staircase to the second floor, where Veronica’s and her suites are. “Your daughter seems to feel the same way. She’s very guarded.”

“She’s had to be.”

“Growing up as the adored only child of Melanie and Salvatore Romero…it must have been a lot.”

Melanie stops and looks at me for long seconds and I wonder if I pushed too hard too fast. I want to ask her about Veronica’s childhood and about William Vargas, but if I seem too invasive I’m pretty sure Melanie will clam up and that’s the last thing I want.

“She handled it very well,” Melanie finally says. “Veronica has always been a trooper. Not that growing up our daughter didn’t also come with some fabulous perks, because it did. But yes, she always dealt with the more difficult parts of fame very well—even from an early age.”

“I’m sure it helps that she had such a supportive mother. I think that makes up for a lot.”

“I wish you’d tell her that,” Melanie says with another one of her tinkling laughs. I’m already paying close attention—to everything that’s being said and everything that isn’t—but hearing it puts me on hyperalert again.

“She doesn’t see her childhood that way?” I ask.

“Oh, she does. Most of the time. But all parents have to make decisions their children don’t agree with at one time or another. Sometimes I think Veronica remembers those times more than she remembers the good ones. I mean, it’s hard to forget a cruise around the Mediterranean on a private yacht or skiing in Patagonia in July, but I think sometimes she manages it. The money’s always been there, you know, so things like that get taken for granted, I think.”

Or they’re overshadowed by other, darker things. Things that no vacation, no matter how exciting, can make up for. I don’t say that, though. I can’t, when I still don’t know exactly what it is I’m looking for. “What was your favorite vacation with Veronica? Your favorite place to visit?”

“Oh, there’ve been so many. And not just vacations. Salvatore shot movies in some of the most gorgeous and interesting places on earth and I was in a number of them—which meant we got to live different places for six months or so at a time. Athens, Sydney, Vancouver, Tokyo, London. I would have done anything for that kind of life when I was a child.” She sighs, her eyes taking on a faraway look for several seconds before she seems to come back to herself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go down memory lane like this.”

“No, it’s fine,” I assure her, deliberately not pointing out the fact that I steered her down that lane on purpose. “I enjoy hearing about that part of your life. Veronica’s life. So much more interesting than my solid middle class upbringing in Boston.”

“Mine, too.” She reaches out, squeezes my arm. “Hey, do you maybe want to look through a couple photo albums of Veronica’s childhood? Maybe you can find a picture or two they’d like to run in the Vanity Fair article?”

“I never even thought of that—I bet the editors would love a few photos of her with her family. Especially with you, since you two look so much alike. I’m surprised they didn’t want you to be a part of the photo shoot they had here the other day.”

“I know. I suggested that Veronica bring it up, but she refused to.” She links our arms once again, uses the connection to steer me toward her own suite. “She’s so famous and yet she gets so embarrassed asking for anything. I tell her all the time that there’s no point being who she is if she doesn’t take advantage of the benefits every once in a while.”

I’ve only known Veronica four days and already I know that’s pretty much the worst thing you can say to her. It’s been said that if you want to know the measure of a person, just watch how they treat the people who can’t help them. She may go all aloof and untouchable sex goddess on me, but that has much more to do with the crazy chemistry between us than it does any ego on her part. With the people at the photo shoot or the waiter at the restaurant where we first met or even the catering staff at tonight’s party, she has always been incredibly gracious.

After observing her for the last few hours, I’m not sure the same can be said for Veronica’s mother. Then again, she’s being more helpful to me than her daughter ever has and that is not a gift horse I’m willing to look in the mouth.