Now That I've Found You (New York Sullivans #1)(10)

There was no chance at all he’d ever forget her now.

And there was no way he wasn’t going to try to help, even if they never had more than that five-minute conversation. First by calling Joe to take care of her car, then with a second call to his cousin Smith, who just happened to be one of the biggest movie stars in the world.

Drake knew how busy Smith was writing, producing, and starring in movies. But when it came to family, his cousin always made it a point to pick up the phone.

“Drake, great to hear from you.”

“How’s Valentina?”

“Beautiful, like always.”

Drake could easily hear the love—and the pride—in his cousin’s voice when he spoke of his fiancée. Valentina and Smith worked together on all their movies now and were currently in the running for an Oscar for their first co-venture, a love story set on Alcatraz.

Not wanting to waste his cousin’s limited time, Drake got right to it. “I’ve got a favor to ask.”

“Sure, what do you need?”

“Have you heard of the photo scandal involving Rosalind Bouchard?”

“Who hasn’t?” Smith sounded disgusted. “Hollywood can be a good place to work, but you wouldn’t know it from looking at what can happen to people like her. Why do you ask? Is she a friend of yours?”

“No, she’s not.” A five-minute conversation in his car didn’t make them friends. But that didn’t change the fact that Drake felt compelled to help her. “I’d still like to know if you, or anyone else, has the power to make those pictures disappear.”

Smith made a frustrated sound. “Honestly, it’s unlikely. Once pictures are out on the Internet, they’re pretty much impossible to pull out of circulation. But I would think her family is already dealing with it.”

“Whether they are or not,” Drake said, his words growing more agitated despite himself, “if there’s anything you can do, I’d appreciate it. I wish I could explain more right now, but I’m afraid I can’t.”

“I’m on it.”

And that was it. No more questions. No hedging or waffling. Just Smith’s promise to help in any way he could. That was the magic of being a Sullivan—they were always there for one another, no matter what.

Drake wished like hell that Rosa could say the same about her own family.





Chapter Five





When Rosa woke the next morning, she was momentarily surprised by the faded drapes, the old diamond-pattern wallpaper, and the double bed with the orange and gold comforter.

Too soon, everything came back to her. The photos. The things her mother had said. Getting in her old car and driving nearly twenty-four hours straight, only stopping for gas a couple of times along the way. Crying out on the cliffs. Her car breaking down.

And then, Drake Sullivan.

A little sigh escaped her, just from quietly saying his name in her head.

He’d been right—walking on the side of the road hadn’t been smart. But she’d had to do something. Had to at least try to save herself, instead of giving in at the first sign of adversity. Especially when the truth was that she’d already given in for far too long...

Drake had been her knight in shining armor, modern-day style. And amazingly, even through her haze of frustration and panic, she’d been unable to ignore her reaction to him. He was simply that sexy, even by Hollywood standards, his muscles defined by the wet clothes that stuck to him. Yet again, she worked to shake him out of her head. She had so many far more important things to worry about than some hot guy.

Yesterday, she’d headed straight for the warm shower as soon as she’d checked into the motel under a false name, paid in cash, then dead-bolted the door behind her. She’d stood beneath the spray until the water had started to go cold. The new clothes she’d just bought had been too wet to put on after falling out of her bag, so she’d simply wrapped a towel around herself, wrung her clothes out and hung them up to dry in the bathroom, then heated up one of the TV dinners in the microwave. Even in the midst of this mess, she was starved, which was clearly why her body would never be anything but curvy. After wolfing down her food, she’d planned to blow-dry her clothes, but she was so tired that she crawled into bed instead.

Every single second she’d been in the room, she’d had to work like crazy to ignore the TV set on the scratched dresser across from the bed. It was crazy, wasn’t it, that even when she knew no good could come of turning it on and seeing what the various entertainment shows were saying about her, it had only been the sheer magnitude of her exhaustion that had actually kept her from doing it? She was tempted to ask the guy at the front desk to take it out of her room so that she didn’t give in to temptation. But since she couldn’t risk drawing unnecessary attention to herself, she would just have to control her self-destructive impulses.

Now, as she came fully awake, she reached for her phone on the nightstand to see what time it was. But she didn’t have her phone anymore. It felt so weird to be without what had essentially become her security blanket over the past five years. But there was something freeing about not having it too. For once, she couldn’t go online to see what people were saying about her and end up with her stomach twisting at the horrible things they so often said. This morning she didn’t have to document her every move—what she was eating, putting on, looking at.