The VIP Doubles Down
Page 90
Allie’s absence was like an open wound that flared with pain every time he touched it. Even worse, he was worried about her. He’d quizzed Jaros on what she’d said when he drove her home, but either Allie had barely spoken or his driver wasn’t talking.
He knew she was balancing on the edge of financial disaster, and he could so easily solve that issue. But she wouldn’t accept anything from him now, even if he swore she would be doing him a favor by salving his guilty conscience.
But it was so much more than guilt. He couldn’t bear the thought of her struggling and worrying. He wanted to smooth every obstacle out of her way and strew her path with rose petals.
Gavin snorted at himself, but it was true. He would pave the streets with gold if it made her happy. And he would ask for nothing in return other than to know she was smiling rather than weeping.
But he was getting ahead of himself. First he had to earn the right to have her feet touch his gold bricks.
His pilot signaled that cell phone use was permitted, but Gavin waited a few minutes longer before he slid it out of his pocket. He’d probably be waking Irene up, which could be to his advantage. He hit the “Call” button.
“Gavin?” She sounded wide awake. Too bad.
“Irene, what game are you playing?”
She laughed, that low purr that used to fascinate him. Now it made his hackles rise in revulsion. “I don’t know, darling. Badminton, perhaps?”
“You stirred up a hornets’ nest with that new pet of yours, Troy Nichols. Why?”
“Did you get stung?”
He thought of Allie’s face when he’d pulled away from her kiss. “I got hacked to pieces. Now will you tell me why?”
“A little shock treatment to break your creative block. You hate the idea of ghostwriters, so I used Troy to start a nice juicy rumor. He’s such a little eager beaver, so easy to manipulate.” Gavin could hear the amused satisfaction in her voice. “I had him entirely convinced that there would be a Christmas Julian Best movie and that he would be perfect for a secondary role. When he showed up in Gail’s office, saying he had an audition for the movie, she was afraid to tell him he was wrong . . . just in case he wasn’t. I hear he had the genius to invoke your name. That was a nice piece of improvisation on his part.”
Gavin gritted his teeth to keep from shouting at her. But he knew that the disaster with Allie was his fault, not Irene’s. “Why Christmas?” He still couldn’t figure that piece out.
That repulsive purr of laughter again. “Wasn’t that an inspired touch? You told me about the Christmas novella you started but never finished. Hugh and I laughed about the idea of Julian baking sugar cookies. So I threw in that little detail to make sure Hugh would believe the whole pack of lies and pass it along to you.”
Gavin sank the fingers of his free hand into the leather of the armrest, squeezing it in a death grip, as the realization of how wrong he’d been swept through him like a blast of Arctic wind.
“Well, did it work, darling?” Irene asked. “Are you writing again?”
It took him a moment to unclench the frozen muscles of his throat. “I am, but not because of your intervention. And I’ve decided that Samantha has betrayed Julian’s trust one time too many. So she is going to die early in the story, probably by Julian’s own hand.”
“Now, Gavin.” The undercurrent of amusement left Irene’s voice. “Don’t let your personal issues interfere with your professional judgment. Julian’s fans love Samantha. They would be distraught if you killed her off.”
“Not if he finds the love of a good woman. His true fans want Julian to be happy.”
“You’re wrong. They want him to be a hard, ruthless outsider like he’s always been.”
“Fans want to see growth in their characters. Samantha is holding Julian back.” It was time to finish off this particular demon. “I thought I’d give you a heads-up out of professional courtesy.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” There was a sharp edge of panic in her voice.
“Never forget that I am Julian’s god.” He smiled. “No one tells me what I dare and what I do not dare.”
“Hugh will support me.”
Gavin’s smile stretched wider. “Hugh dislikes you even more than I do. Here’s another professional heads-up. Being a stone-cold bitch doesn’t play well, even in Hollywood.”
He disconnected as Irene hissed curses at him.
One down, so why didn’t he feel a sense of accomplishment?
Because Irene had confirmed how badly he had wronged Allie. He dropped his head in his hands with a groan while the cold truth squeezed the air from his lungs.
As the plane flew toward Illinois, he tried to sleep, but his mind whirled with images of Allie, her red hair glowing like a flame around her beautiful face as she teased him, challenged him, healed him. And left him.
Two hours later, his plane touched down at a small airport outside Chicago. He climbed into a waiting helicopter, which took him to a field just outside Bluffwoods. And there he saw his stepsister Ruth, leaning on the side of her dirt-spattered SUV.
That stopped Gavin in his tracks. He’d hired a local farmer to drive him into town.
“Hey, Gavvy.” Ruth used her old nickname for him. “No big hello for your stepsis?”
Gavin crossed the frozen furrows and wrapped his arms around her. “Ruthie. I was expecting Frank Dobbs. But it’s good to see you.” Surprisingly, he meant it. His stepsister had put on a few pounds since their youth, but she still had the same bright hazel eyes and thick braid of brown hair slung over her shoulder. And an off-center smile that offered affection in a world where he had found little. “How’d you end up as my ride?”
“I got wind you were coming and decided family should be here to greet you.” She cast a slantwise glance toward the helicopter. “You travel in style.”
“I have a lot of ground to cover today,” he said. He opened the driver’s door of the SUV for her. “Shall we get out of the chill?”
Ruth climbed behind the wheel, and Gavin closed her door. He stood a moment as the crunch of frozen dirt under his feet and the slice of the bitter midwestern wind yanked him back into his childhood. It was not a good place to go.
Shaking himself, he walked around and got in beside his stepsister.
He knew she was balancing on the edge of financial disaster, and he could so easily solve that issue. But she wouldn’t accept anything from him now, even if he swore she would be doing him a favor by salving his guilty conscience.
But it was so much more than guilt. He couldn’t bear the thought of her struggling and worrying. He wanted to smooth every obstacle out of her way and strew her path with rose petals.
Gavin snorted at himself, but it was true. He would pave the streets with gold if it made her happy. And he would ask for nothing in return other than to know she was smiling rather than weeping.
But he was getting ahead of himself. First he had to earn the right to have her feet touch his gold bricks.
His pilot signaled that cell phone use was permitted, but Gavin waited a few minutes longer before he slid it out of his pocket. He’d probably be waking Irene up, which could be to his advantage. He hit the “Call” button.
“Gavin?” She sounded wide awake. Too bad.
“Irene, what game are you playing?”
She laughed, that low purr that used to fascinate him. Now it made his hackles rise in revulsion. “I don’t know, darling. Badminton, perhaps?”
“You stirred up a hornets’ nest with that new pet of yours, Troy Nichols. Why?”
“Did you get stung?”
He thought of Allie’s face when he’d pulled away from her kiss. “I got hacked to pieces. Now will you tell me why?”
“A little shock treatment to break your creative block. You hate the idea of ghostwriters, so I used Troy to start a nice juicy rumor. He’s such a little eager beaver, so easy to manipulate.” Gavin could hear the amused satisfaction in her voice. “I had him entirely convinced that there would be a Christmas Julian Best movie and that he would be perfect for a secondary role. When he showed up in Gail’s office, saying he had an audition for the movie, she was afraid to tell him he was wrong . . . just in case he wasn’t. I hear he had the genius to invoke your name. That was a nice piece of improvisation on his part.”
Gavin gritted his teeth to keep from shouting at her. But he knew that the disaster with Allie was his fault, not Irene’s. “Why Christmas?” He still couldn’t figure that piece out.
That repulsive purr of laughter again. “Wasn’t that an inspired touch? You told me about the Christmas novella you started but never finished. Hugh and I laughed about the idea of Julian baking sugar cookies. So I threw in that little detail to make sure Hugh would believe the whole pack of lies and pass it along to you.”
Gavin sank the fingers of his free hand into the leather of the armrest, squeezing it in a death grip, as the realization of how wrong he’d been swept through him like a blast of Arctic wind.
“Well, did it work, darling?” Irene asked. “Are you writing again?”
It took him a moment to unclench the frozen muscles of his throat. “I am, but not because of your intervention. And I’ve decided that Samantha has betrayed Julian’s trust one time too many. So she is going to die early in the story, probably by Julian’s own hand.”
“Now, Gavin.” The undercurrent of amusement left Irene’s voice. “Don’t let your personal issues interfere with your professional judgment. Julian’s fans love Samantha. They would be distraught if you killed her off.”
“Not if he finds the love of a good woman. His true fans want Julian to be happy.”
“You’re wrong. They want him to be a hard, ruthless outsider like he’s always been.”
“Fans want to see growth in their characters. Samantha is holding Julian back.” It was time to finish off this particular demon. “I thought I’d give you a heads-up out of professional courtesy.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” There was a sharp edge of panic in her voice.
“Never forget that I am Julian’s god.” He smiled. “No one tells me what I dare and what I do not dare.”
“Hugh will support me.”
Gavin’s smile stretched wider. “Hugh dislikes you even more than I do. Here’s another professional heads-up. Being a stone-cold bitch doesn’t play well, even in Hollywood.”
He disconnected as Irene hissed curses at him.
One down, so why didn’t he feel a sense of accomplishment?
Because Irene had confirmed how badly he had wronged Allie. He dropped his head in his hands with a groan while the cold truth squeezed the air from his lungs.
As the plane flew toward Illinois, he tried to sleep, but his mind whirled with images of Allie, her red hair glowing like a flame around her beautiful face as she teased him, challenged him, healed him. And left him.
Two hours later, his plane touched down at a small airport outside Chicago. He climbed into a waiting helicopter, which took him to a field just outside Bluffwoods. And there he saw his stepsister Ruth, leaning on the side of her dirt-spattered SUV.
That stopped Gavin in his tracks. He’d hired a local farmer to drive him into town.
“Hey, Gavvy.” Ruth used her old nickname for him. “No big hello for your stepsis?”
Gavin crossed the frozen furrows and wrapped his arms around her. “Ruthie. I was expecting Frank Dobbs. But it’s good to see you.” Surprisingly, he meant it. His stepsister had put on a few pounds since their youth, but she still had the same bright hazel eyes and thick braid of brown hair slung over her shoulder. And an off-center smile that offered affection in a world where he had found little. “How’d you end up as my ride?”
“I got wind you were coming and decided family should be here to greet you.” She cast a slantwise glance toward the helicopter. “You travel in style.”
“I have a lot of ground to cover today,” he said. He opened the driver’s door of the SUV for her. “Shall we get out of the chill?”
Ruth climbed behind the wheel, and Gavin closed her door. He stood a moment as the crunch of frozen dirt under his feet and the slice of the bitter midwestern wind yanked him back into his childhood. It was not a good place to go.
Shaking himself, he walked around and got in beside his stepsister.
