THE ITALIAN HEARTTHROB

N.J. ADEL
This is a work of fiction. All incidents and dialogue, and all characters are
products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons living or
dead is entirely coincidental.

THE ITALIAN HEARTTHROB

Copyright © 2020 N.J. Adel
All rights reserved.

ALL CHARACTERS DEPICTED ARE OVER THE AGE OF 18.

WARNING
THIS BOOK FEATURES EXPLICIT DEPICTIONS OF SEX AND OTHER
MATERIAL THAT MAY OFFEND SOME AUDIENCES. THEREFORE,
IS INTENDED FOR ADULTS ONLY.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in
any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other
electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the
author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and
certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission
requests, write to the author at the e-mail address below.

n.j.adel.majesty@gmail.com
 Table of Scenes
Also by N.J. Adel
Dedication
Based on True Events
PART ONE
PASSION
Scene 1
Maggie
Scene 2
Maggie
Scene 3
Mike
Scene 4
Mike
Scene 5
Mike
Scene 6
Maggie
Scene 7
Mike
Scene 8
Maggie
Scene 9
Maggie
Scene 10
Maggie
Scene 11
Mike
Scene 12
Mike
Scene 13
Maggie
Scene 14
Maggie
PART TWO
FEVER
Scene 15
Maggie
Scene 16
Mike
Scene 17
Maggie
Scene 18
Maggie
Scene 19
Mike
Scene 20
Mike
Scene 21
Maggie
Scene 22
Mike
Scene 23
Maggie
Scene 24
Maggie
Scene 25
Mike
Scene 26
 Mike
Scene 27
Maggie
Scene 28
Maggie
Scene 29
Mike
Scene 30
Maggie
Scene 31
Mike
Scene 32
Maggie
Scene 33
Mike
Scene 34
Maggie
Scene 35
Maggie
Scene 36
Mike
Scene 37
Mike
Scene 38
Maggie
Scene 39
Maggie
Scene 40
Mike
Scene 41
Maggie
Scene 42
Maggie
Scene 43
Mike
Scene 44
Mike
Scene 45
Mike
Scene 46
Maggie
Scene 47
Maggie
Scene 48
Maggie
Scene 49
Maggie
Scene 50
Maggie
Scene 51
Mike
Scene 52
Maggie
Scene 53
Mike
PART THREE
HEROES AND VILLAINS
Scene 54
Maggie
Scene 55
Maggie
Scene 56
 Mike
Scene 57
Maggie
Scene 58
Maggie
Scene 59
Maggie
Scene 60
Maggie
Scene 61
Mike
Scene 62
Mike
PART FOUR
EIGHT MONTHS OF PEACE
Scene 63
Maggie
Scene 64
Maggie
Scene 65
Maggie
Scene 66
Maggie
Scene 67
Maggie
Scene 68
Maggie
Scene 69
Maggie
Scene 70
Mike
Scene 71
Mike
Scene 72
Mike
Scene 73
Maggie
Scene 74
Mike
Scene 75
Maggie
Scene 76
Mike
Scene 77
Maggie
Scene 78
Mike
Scene 79
Mike
Scene 80
Mike
Scene 81
Maggie
Scene 82
Mike
Scene 83
Mike
Scene 84
Maggie
Scene 85
Maggie
Scene 86
 Maggie
Scene 87
Mike
PART FIVE
HOME
Scene 88
Maggie
Scene 89
Maggie
Scene 90
Maggie
Scene 91
Maggie
Scene 92
Maggie
Scene 93
Maggie
Scene 94
Mike
Scene 95
Mike
Soundtrack
Also by N.J. Adel
Author Bio
 Also by N.J. Adel

Steamy Forbidden Contemporary Romance

The Italian Heartthrob
Dirty Beats (Prequel Novella)
The Italian Heartthrob
Dark MC and Mafia Romance
I Hate You then I Love You Collection
Darkness Between Us
NINE MINUTE LATER
Nine Minutes Xtra
Nine Minutes Forever

Paranormal Reverse Harem Standalones

All the Teacher’s Pets
All the Teacher’s Pet Beasts
All the Teacher’s Bad Boys
All the Teacher’s Valentines (Sweeter than Chocolate Anthology Novella)
All the Teacher’s Prisoners
All the Teacher’s Little Belles

Reverse Harem Erotic Romance

Her Royal Harem Series
Her Royal Harem: Complete Box set
Fantasy Reverse Harem
Seratis the Goddess of Egypt

Seratis Daughter of the Sun

Seratis War of the Gods

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 Dedication

To those who carry the scar on their faces or their bodies or their souls.
I’m one of you.
Allow yourself to be happy because you deserve it.
Based on True Events
PART ONE

PASSION
 Scene 1
Maggie

My feet weighed a thousand pounds when I turned on Ocean Avenue and

stopped at a white and blue, ten-story tower.
I’d never been a morning person. Everybody knew that. Dad knew that
when he insisted I meet him at eight a.m. at the penthouse.
An ambush awaited me inside. I had no doubt about it.
At least this time, I planned to get something in return from that dreadful
meeting. But was anything in the world worth walking into this house again?
The doorman greeted me, bringing my thoughts to a temporary halt.
“Morning.” I took off my sunglasses, straining to pop my eyes wider. My
boots echoed on the marble tiles as I ambled to the elevator. I slid my hand
into the inside pocket of my jacket, pulled out a key card, waved it over the
keypad, and ascended to the penthouse.
My breath shuddered in my chest when the elevator opened. I breathed out
slowly and dragged myself out. Eyes on the prize, Maggie. Eyes on the prize.
Loretta, the housekeeper, opened the door with a grin on her fifty-year-old
face. There was something kind about this short, plump woman that always
made me smile. “Good morning, Maggie.”
I pecked her cheek. “Is she up?” I whispered, taking off my jacket.
Loretta made a funny face as she stowed the jacket away in the coat
closet. “I’m afraid so.”
My shoulders slumped. “And Dad?”
“He’s waiting for you to join him for breakfast on the terrace.”
 I stalked across the living room, heading toward the stellar view of the
ocean, Dad smiling at me behind the floor-to-ceiling window.
“Maggie.” A firm voice rang behind me followed by the sound of heels
clicking on the floor.
The ambush.
I froze for a second. Then, clenching my fists, I took a deep breath and
spun around. “Andrea.”
It never got old calling my mother by her first name. If she wanted to be
called Mom, she had to earn it. And Andrea had given up that right long ago.
Her long brown hair perfectly coiffed. Full makeup. Manicured hands.
Bold red lipstick. A black pencil skirt and a red, silk blouse, accentuating her
assets as always. My mother looked like a celebrity ready for a photo shoot
before she even had breakfast.
“You cut your hair?” She eyed me from head to toe, her mouth turned
down in disapproval. “And what are you wearing?”
Here we go. “What, you don’t like my outfit?” I adjusted the metallic belt
against my little, black dress and smirked.
Andrea furrowed her thin eyebrows. “Someone with thighs like yours
should not parade them like that. What size are you now? Fourteen?”
Ignore her. She’s not worth it. You promised yourself. “No. I’m still an
eight. Same as the past five years.”
Dad stepped into the living room, holding a cup of coffee, a cautious smile
on his lips. “Good morning, girls.”
I flung my shoulders around him, needing the safety of his embrace,
careful not to spill the coffee, though. “Daddy.”
He kissed me on the cheek and handed me the cup, but I shook my head.
“Thanks. I’m planning to go back to sleep.”
Andrea folded her arms across her chest. “Agreeing to show up here at
eight in the morning means you want something really bad. What is it this
time?”
 I heaved a sigh, staring at her taunting, hazel eyes. “I don’t want anything
from you, thank you very much. Dad asked to see me, so here I am.”
Andrea chuckled and smoothed her skirt as she sat on the couch. “So you
ran out of money, and now you need Daddy’s help. What do you need the
money for? Another one of your aesthetic projects?”
“When have I ever…” I bit the inside of my cheek, switching my gaze
toward Dad. “You know what? I’ll wait for you downstairs. We can talk on
the way to your office.”
“No, Maggie, wait.” He placed the cup on the glass coffee table, glaring at
Andrea. “I’m sure your mother doesn’t mean anything. She hasn’t seen you
in a year and is just…interested in knowing what you’re up to these days.”
My glance fell on the hardwood floor. “Yeah, right.”
He lifted my chin with his finger and smiled. “Don’t pout. I’ll grab my
things, and we’ll head to the office. Won’t be long.”
Andrea grabbed a gossip magazine from the stack on the coffee table and
hid her face behind the glossy paper, while Dad climbed the stairs.
On the cover, there was a bare-chested picture of Mike Gennaro, and my
mind went blank. The taupe brown curls of his hair flowed down to his naked
shoulders. His dark brown eyes held a mischievous gaze. A scruffy jaw
complemented his strong cheekbones and sculpted lips.
Heat spread under my skin as I traced down the lines of hairless, chiseled
chest and killer abs. The thirty-three-year-old actor was a wet dream waiting
to happen.
Happened.
So many times.
My eyes landed on the title under the picture.
The Italian Heartthrob back in L.A.
My heart raced despite me and all the promises I’d been making to
myself. I mused back at my half-naked best friend, my thumb brushing
against my smiling lips.
 “He’s too old for you,” Andrea said. “Nine years too old to be exact.”
Eight years and nine months. I cleared my throat. “Who?”
Andrea’s head popped from behind the magazine. “Really?”
My head jerked in the other direction. “I already have a boyfriend. Mike is
my friend.”
“No, he isn’t. He’s my friend, and my client. That makes him an
acquaintance to you. Don’t mistake him for anything else.”
 Scene 2
Maggie

“How did you get here today?” Dad asked as I slid into the backseat of his
Jaguar.
“The bus.”
“Nick Dawson’s only daughter is taking the bus?”
I smiled. “Well, I couldn’t afford the gas money for the Lexus you wanted
to buy me for my last birthday. And when you make four grand a year, bus is
your only option.”
“Why are you doing this to yourself? You used to make more than thirty
thousand a month when you worked with me.”
“Dad, you of all people know it’s never about money with me. It’s about
—”
“Passion,” he interrupted. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that speech so many
times before. I never want to hear it again.”
The direction of the conversation was taking a wrong turn, but I
swallowed my resentment in light of more pressing issues. “Speaking of
passion, I’m gonna make a movie.”
Dad’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “What?”
“I co-wrote a script for a short film with a friend of mine, and I’m gonna
direct it.”
“Um… I’m not sure I understand. I thought you quit working with me
because you wanted to write…books.”
“Yeah. I…thought so, too.” A sigh escaped my mouth. “But I wanna try
directing now.”
He nodded, his brows pulling together. “Have you directed anything
before, Mags?”
 I stared at him for a moment and shook my head. “I did an internship and
helped a few friends who go to film school with their projects. They loved
my work.”
“I don’t think that’s enough.”
“I know. That’s why I’m making this movie. I wanna show the world
what I can do. It’s like when actors have showcases.” I clenched my teeth.
“Only a little more expensive.”
“How expensive?”
I bit my fingernail. “Ten grand?”
His lashes fluttered. “What?”
I held up a hand. “I know it’s a bit much.”
“A bit?”
“Okay, it’s a lot,” I admitted. “But not to you. Like you said, it’s only one
third of what you used to pay me a month.”
“If you want to make movies, why don’t you ask your mother to help
you? She can network you—”
“Please don’t ever say that again.” A surge of anger ran through me. Years
and years of awful pain came rushing in. Andrea and I had issues beyond
repair. They didn’t only start right before the year I finally left. They weren’t
just about her constant criticism or never liking anything I did either. It
was… “You know I’d die before I’d ask her for help.”
He set his jaw, his eyes sad.
“Dad, I know it’s a lot to ask for since I don’t make you money anymore,
but consider it a loan. An investment. I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.”
“With what? The revenues of your blockbuster?”
“Please don’t make fun of me. I just told you it’s a showcase. There’s no
money there.”
He combed his fingers through his gray hair. “How about you come work
with me again, just for a few weeks?”
 I squinted at him as if he’d asked me to sell my soul to the devil. “You
want me to design rich people’s houses again?”
“Well, you have the degree for it.” He smiled. “And the talent.”
“And I hated every minute of it. Dad…I thought you supported my
decision to quit.”
“I did. I just hate to see you waste another year doing something you’ll
eventually get bored with…again.”
Ouch. I expected that attitude from Andrea, but coming from him hurt like
a slap on the face. “Not everyone is so lucky to figure out what they want the
first time. Some of us have to try again and again and again, and just hope
they’ll finally find it.”
“I don’t know why you keep saying that when it’s just right in front of
you. C’mon, Mags. Just come help with a project or two. Maybe your passion
for architecture will be renewed. Consider it a mutual investment.”
More like a trap.
I was wrong. I thought the meeting at the house was another attempt to
make me see Andrea and work things out with her. But no. This was the
ambush.
“This whole thing isn’t about Andrea or the money or my choice of
career. You just want to lure me back into your company,” I said.
“Is it so wrong that I want my daughter to carry my legacy? Especially
when she’s so good at it? You’re made for this, baby.”
I nodded. “You don’t think I’m gonna make it in the movie business…or
any other business apart from yours.”
“We both know it doesn’t matter what I think, baby. Only what you think
matters.”
I gazed at him, pursing my lips. I’d been working day and night to support
myself after I quit being an architect, while trying to pursue a career as an
author. Not once had I asked for money even when things got rough, and God
knew how many times I’d been broke since.
Even when he offered, I’d never caved.
 Now, the only reason I asked him for help and not anyone else was that I
thought he believed in me. I thought he understood quitting a stable, lucrative
job to pursue my dreams was courage, not recklessness or insanity. It turned
out he was only indulging his spoiled baby girl’s whims until she came back
to her senses.
I leaned forward and asked the driver to stop the car.
“Maggie, don’t—”
My arms wrapped around his shoulders. “It’s good to see you, Dad.”
“Maggie,” he called after me as I shut the door behind me. “The money
will be in your account by the end of the day.” His voice trailed behind me.
“No thanks. I’m a bad investment.” I stalked away, my fists shoved in the
pockets of my jacket, tears burning my eyes.
My phone buzzed with an email alert. I got it out, swiped and glanced at
the subject line: Results of our short story competition - Congratulations!
My eyebrows hooked as I opened the email.
Dear Maggie,
I'm delighted to tell you that your short story, Shreds, was in the top five
in this quarter's competition - congratulations!
We'd like to publish your piece in the next anthology, which we're hoping
to bring out in mid-November. If you're happy to be a part of the collection,
just get back to us and let us know before Wednesday 25th October so that we
can announce the winning entries, then we'll send you a check with your
$1,000 prize.
Congratulations once again!
Stephen
I froze for a moment, and then I lifted my head to the bright sky, the tears
now falling.
This was neither the first time I’d won a writing contest, nor did I care
much about writing now, but winning at this particular moment meant the
world to me. It was all the validation I needed after my most important
supporter told me I was doing nothing but wasting my life.
Wiping my face, I nodded to myself. I would make my movie. At any
cost.
I just had to figure out how to come up with nine more thousand dollars.
Writing a few more pieces here and there wasn’t going to cut it. It barely paid
for groceries. Maybe I should have let Dad get me that Lexus for my
birthday. It would have come in handy now.
The phone buzzed again, this time with a text message alert. I scowled at
the name on the screen. Mike.
Morning, Kiddo. Back from Berlin. Scheduled 4 photo shoots till 3. Call
me when u r up. TC.
Sniffling, I tapped the dial icon and placed the phone on my ear, expecting
voicemail.
“Carolina, how’re you doing?” Mike answered, his voice cheerful. “Why
are you up so early?”
My heart thudded. The way his Italian accent popped as his rugged voice
said my middle name warmed my cheeks. “Um… I haven’t slept yet.” I ran a
finger across my eyebrow. “What’re you doing answering your phone? I
thought they were getting you dolled up for pictures.”
He laughed. “They will…in thirty minutes.”
“Okay. How was Berlin?”
“Was all right. Shoot. Promote. Fest. Same old stuff. Anyway, what’s up
with you, Kiddo?”
I hated it when he called me that. “I’m not a fucking Kiddo.”
He chuckled. “Missed your potty mouth.”
I rolled my eyes. “Really?”
His laughter continued. “No, not really.” He paused for a couple of
seconds. “But I sure missed you.”
“I missed you too, Superstar.”
 “So what are you up to?”
I took a long breath. “Guess what? One of my short pieces of shit has just
won an award.”
“First, don’t call your stories that. Second, get the fuck out of here! That’s
awesome.”
“Thank you,” I muttered.
“Have you told your parents yet?”
“Nope. You’re the first one I told.” My voice cracked.
“Maggie, you all right?”
“Yeah,” I lied. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Why do you sound so upset? You gotta celebrate, not brood.”
“Sure. The award comes with a social media party and everything.”
“Not your kinda party, I know. But I’m sure you won’t have a problem
stumbling on one that matches your taste.”
“You know me too well, Superstar. Any chance I’m gonna see you soon?”
I squeezed my eyes shut, disappointed at myself. I shouldn’t have asked.
“Er… Yeah. I haven’t seen you in like what, eight months now? Let’s
meet at your parents’ place. I have something very important to discuss with
Andrea this week anyway.”
What the fuck? “Whatever.”
“Listen, I gotta run now. I’ll text you the day. Take care, Kiddo.”
“Fuck you.”
He cackled. “Love you.”
 Scene 3
Mike

Mike slid behind the wheel of his silver Porsche, his sunglasses tilted
enough to hide half of his face. Like it was going to work. Fans and paps had
already gathered along the street. He nodded and smiled through the glass as
he slowly moved forward among the waving hands, bouncing bodies, and
popping flashes. His foot went gentle on the gas until he eased through the
madness and made the turn.
It’d been fifteen years since he’d decided not to become a chef and made
his first movie. He was used to the madness. The attention, the love, the
lights, he appreciated. It meant he was still hot, desired, and successful; there
was still time before the crowds didn’t remember his name.
“Good evening, Loretta.” He took his shades off when she greeted him at
the door, giving her his perfected, fan-mode smile.
She didn’t smile back. She never did. The old woman hated him for a
reason he never cared to know.
She escorted him to the living room and asked what he’d like to drink.
“I’m good.” He sank onto the couch and placed his sunglasses on the
coffee table.
“Mrs. Dawson is expecting you. She’ll be down any minute.”
He nodded at her and spread his arms along the back of the couch. A
chuckle escaped his mouth as she stalked away, murmuring in gibberish.
The lights were dimmed, casting a beautiful hue on the hardwood and
glass interior. The room and décor were all shades of brown. Warm.
Welcoming. The air smelled like the jasmines adorning the antique vases.
His gaze wandered with the ocean waves as he recalled the house where
he was born— where Andrea Dawson was still Andrea Marino, and he was
Mickey, il bambino dell’ autista—the chauffeur’s kid. He couldn’t remember
much of that house now, except that it was big. But again, he was almost ten
the last time he went there. He’d been invited to Maggie’s first birthday. The
garden swarmed with guests and plenty of children to play with. That day, he
had seen Andrea for the first time after she got married. She was nineteen
then, and God she was hot.
He glanced toward the sound of heels coming from behind him. Andrea
smiled from ear to ear when she saw him, her lips a crimson red like the
corseted dress that gave him a good view of her cleavage. Anybody else
would have been tempted, but he knew better.
He rose, and she folded her arms around his waist, pulling him in for an
embrace. “I missed you, Mickey.”
He ended the hug fast. “Looking good. Those fillers are really working for
you.”
She flipped her long, brown hair as she sat next to him. “Thank you.
Maybe I should give you the number of my doctor. You’re going to need him
very soon.”
He smirked and put one leg on the other. “Nah, I’m good. James called
you?”
“Yes, your manager informed me that you don’t want to do Heavenly
Kisses. No problem. I have two more scripts for you to choose from.”
“What is it this time? A rom-com or a romantic thriller?” He snorted.
“Listen to me. This isn’t just about Heavenly Kisses. I don’t wanna spend the
rest of my acting career doing nothing but being some sexy whatever who
saves the day and gets the girl. I’m done with that kind of shit. I want to act.
So bring me something different. Important.”
She sighed. “I understand what you’re going through. Believe me. After
this long in the business you get bored. You want to try something different,
something new, even risky.” She leaned forward, her tits on display even
more. “But you can’t just make that shift all of a sudden. You have to ease
your way into it, pave the way for your audience to accept that change, or
else everything you’ve worked really hard for will be at risk.”
“Or maybe I just need a new audience. That’s the point of change, isn’t
it?”
 “But we—”
“No buts! Last Resort is the last movie on my contract with Universal and
the last one of this kind I’m ever gonna make. Next year is gonna be
different, and you’d better be ready for it.”
“I can’t let you do this. This is career suicide.”
“You know what? I just don’t give a shit anymore. If you can’t get me
what I want, I’ll find a new agent who can.”
Her eyes flashed at him as she jumped to her feet. “Excuse me? Have you
forgotten what I’ve done for you? What my family did for you?”
“No, I haven’t, and I never will. I like what we have. Our friendship and
partnership have been very successful so far.” He grabbed his shades and
stood. “For me and you.”
Then he glanced down at her. “I don’t want to end this, and I’m sure you
wanna keep making the millions I make you. So get me what I want.”
 Scene 4
Mike

“Hey, Kiddo.” Mike snickered as Maggie cursed in response. He could

picture her hazel eyes rolling as he adjusted his phone on his ear, climbing
into his Porsche. “Why didn’t you come to Andrea’s?”
“Ugh! You really don’t know the answer?”
“But we agreed to meet there.”
“No. You made that obnoxious suggestion, and I said whatever,” she
corrected. “You know better than anyone that’s the last place I wanna be,
even if it’s to see you.” There was an edge to her voice.
He grunted. “Okay. How about I make it up to you?”
“I’m listening.”
A grin stretched my lips. “I’m having a party tonight at the AKA. Why
don’t you come over?”
“You still live there?”
“Si, si.” He’d been calling his AKA Beverly Hills suite home for the past
two years. After his father passed away, the mansion in Bel-Air was too big
and lonely for a single man like him.
“Um… You know I never say no to that, but Kyle isn’t in town tonight.
He doesn’t like me going to parties without him.”
His face contorted in disgust when he heard the name. That nineteen-foot
bastard with the cheekbones of a model she met a month after Mike had gone
to Europe to shoot Everlasting. The one she’d been with longer than all her
boyfriends combined. “Kyle? That slick ass broker bosses you around now?
What the fuck?”
“No, he doesn’t. He’s my boyfriend. I don’t like to upset him.”
His fist tightened around the steering wheel. “So you’re not going to a
party just to please some insecure boy who can’t trust you to go somewhere
without him for a few hours? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Jealous much? Why don’t you get yourself a girlfriend?”
Fair question. One he couldn’t answer without having to lie to her.
“Maggie, I got weed. Loads of it. You coming or not?”
“Well, when you say it that way…”
“I’m sending a car over at 9:30.”
 Scene 5
Mike

Mike did a double take as Maggie waltzed through the people jumping up
and down in the strobe lights on his suite floor. She met his gaze with a
crooked smile, sauntering toward him in a wraparound black dress and high
heels with fancy lacing. Her hazel eyes, framed with black liner, shone with a
wild glint. Holy fuck.
He gave James his drink and walked toward her. “Hey—”
“If you say Kiddo one more time, I’ll steal all your weed, and you’ll never
see me again.”
He bit his lip on a laugh. “Come here.” He spread his arms, and she threw
herself into them. His nose skimmed across her hair as he bent to kiss her
cheek. Why did she have to smell so damn good? He closed his eyes,
swallowing a moan. “Mi sei mancato tanto, pazza.”
Her arms slid around his waist, embracing him tighter. “I missed you,
too.”
The way he was squeezing a young hottie with his eyes closed in the
middle of a room full of people must have raised some eyebrows, but he
didn’t care. These friendly hugs were his only chance to feel her warmth, to
touch her skin, to hear her heartbeat. He wasn’t going to let go until she did.
When she finally pulled away from him, he gazed at her. “You look
amazing.” His fingers played with a strand of her brown hair. “And this looks
good short.”
“Thanks. You should tell that to Andrea. For her, my hair is never the
right length. My body is never the right size. And of course, my choice of
attire is never appropriate for any given occasion.”
“Good thing that you never listen to her. You’re gorgeous.” He took her
by the hand and stepped onto the balcony, shutting the party craziness behind
the glass door.
 She tossed her purse on one of the wicker chairs surrounding a small,
walnut table. “Maybe you should try that, not listening to her.”
“You should’ve been there today.” Cool air ruffled his curls as he
slouched against the banister. “I’m sure you’d have liked it.”
“I doubt that. Did something new happen?”
He nodded, pushing his hair off his face, his lips twisting into a wry smile.
Her eyes narrowed. “What?”
“I told her I wouldn’t be making the same kinds of movies anymore, and
I’d find a new agent if she wouldn’t get me what I wanted.”
She gaped at him. “Shut up! You practically told Andrea Dawson to shove
it where the sun didn’t shine? Shit! I really should’ve seen that. She must’ve
flipped.”
His eyes widened as he laughed. “Have some respect. She’s still your
mother.”
“Suck my dick.”
“God help me.”
She hopped and sat on the banister next to him. “So you’re finally
stepping out of your comfort zone?”
“Um-hum.”
“Why’s that?”
He glanced at her sideways. The moon illuminated her face with a silver
twinkle, and her beauty distracted him for a second. His gaze dropped to his
feet. “Because I’m done.”
“With what?”
“Some seventeen-year-old girl once told me that when I was done with
those—and I quote—‘cheap thrills,’ she’d finally go watch my work.” He
looked up. “I’d like her to know that I’m done now, and I’d love to take her
to my premiere someday.”
She smiled. “Why would you listen to some silly teen?”
 “Because she’s my best friend. And she’s not silly at all. She has the
ability to follow her passion anywhere, anytime.” He brushed the back of his
fingers over her temple. “I’ve always envied that about you, Carolina.”
She ran a hand through her hair and sighed.
“What?”
Her lips twisted. “Dad’s coercing me to work for him again, and I think
I’m gonna have to say yes.”
“What?! Why?”
She looked away. “I can’t tell you.”
“What do you mean you can’t tell me?” He got down on his feet and tilted
her face in his direction. “That job made you miserable. You swore you’d
never work as an architect again. What the fuck happened? Do you need
money? Is that what it is? Are you in trouble or something?”
“No. No, it’s not like that.” She came down from the banister. “Look, if I
told you why I needed the money, you’d want to help, and after a very
charming conversation with Dad, I realized I needed to do this one on my
own. For myself. That’s all.”
He stared at her for a second, then he got a pen and his checkbook from
the pocket of his suit jacket. “How much do you need?”
“God! What did I just say?”
“Fine.” He leaned over the table, scribbled her name down on a check,
and handed it to her. “Here. Put your number and cash it out any time you
want.”
She stared at the piece of paper for a second. “A blank check? Seriously?
You think I’m just gonna take that? No fuckin’ way.”
He held her purse, placed the check inside, and tossed it back on the chair.
“Yes, you’re taking it,” he said with an authoritative tone as he took a seat.
“How’s your novel coming?”
Filling her chest with air, she sat on the opposite chair and looked away.
“I can’t fuckin’ believe you right now.”
 “You stopped writing, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” she uttered. “I really don’t need you, too, lecturing me on how I’m
wasting…” She trailed off when James opened the glass door.
Mike apologized to her for the interruption. “Yes, James?”
“Your guests are asking about you.” He smiled at her. “Hi. I’m James
Bailey, Mike’s manager.” He stuck his hand out.
“Maggie Dawson,” she yelled over the music, shaking his hand. Then she
looked back at Mike. “You should get back to your friends.”
He rose. “Come with me. I’ll introduce you.”
“In a while. I need some air. You go ahead.”
“Okay. I’ll return with gifts.” He winked.
 Scene 6
Maggie

“Do you mind if I keep you company?” A charming smile danced across
Mike’s manager’s lips as he closed the door.
I glanced at his face. He was a handsome guy; anybody could see that.
Over six feet. Athletic. Gray eyes. Blond hair. Symmetrical. A few years
older than Mike. “Sure.” This week was getting shittier by the day. A little
company might take my mind off things for a minute.
He sat, unbuttoning his jacket. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”
“We might have crossed paths once or twice. Mike’s agent is my mother.”
“You’re Andrea’s daughter? Maggie Dawson,” he said slowly, as if he felt
stupid not to catch the last name resemblance.
“The one and only.”
“So humble.” His laugh made me laugh. He was one of those people.
“And pretty.” A glint of mischief flickered in his eyes. “Very pretty.”
I tilted my head, measuring him. I was unable to decide whether he was
being honest or just saying things to get in my pants. “I have a boyfriend.”
“I’m sure you do. It’d surprise me if you didn’t.” He sipped on his
cocktail. “How is it that we’ve only crossed paths once or twice?”
“I went to England for college and only returned two years ago. Since
then I’ve been really busy, and Mike has been traveling a lot.”
“I see. What does the one and only Maggie Dawson do?”
I scratched my forehead. “That’s a…tough question to answer.” I couldn’t
risk telling him the truth. He’d tell Mike.
His jaw flexed. “Is it?”
A giggle escaped me. “Yeah.”
 “Okay, and what did you do before that?”
I giggled again. “Okay. I used to be an architect, then I quit to be a
writer.”
“Screenplays?”
“I fiddled a little with that but not for long. They’re not really my jam.
Novels is more like it.”
“But…?”
My gaze drifted to Mike. He was talking to some woman in a skirt so
small it could also be a headband. She couldn’t keep her hands to herself, and
Mike didn’t seem to mind. “Somewhere down the road, I lost interest, again.
The novel remains unfinished, and I continue to stay undecided about which
career to make mine.”
“Let me guess, now you’re going to try something completely different?”
James asked.
I glanced back at him. “You guessed right. Being good at something isn’t
enough when it doesn’t make you feel what you wanna feel.”
“A girl with passion who’s not afraid of taking risks and exploring new
things.” He leaned forward. “You’re a dangerous person, Maggie Dawson.”
“Unlike you.”
He stared at me, his eyes curious.
I nodded toward Mike, who was talking to a short man in a blue suit now.
“You and Andrea have been pressuring him into taking projects he hated,
unwilling to take any risks to explore his talent and take it to the next level.”
James sighed, his eyes fixed on the glass door. “You don’t know anything
about this business. Risk-takers, especially sex gods like him, most likely fall
from grace. The success rate is less than seven percent. Seven.” He looked
directly into my eyes. “Impulsive people who have no sense of consequences
ruin lives, even their own.”
“You think you’re looking after him, protecting him from ‘impulsive
people and their influence’?” I made air-quotes. “C’mon, James. You’re just
playing it safe so you can keep squeezing him for money.”
 “Everybody plays it safe,” he continued. “Directors don’t see Mike the
way he wants to be seen now. They won’t cast him in those movies.
Producers aren’t willing to take any risks either. What are we supposed to
do?”
My eyes flicked at him, challenging him. “Look for fresh voices.
Undiscovered talents. Do you know how many writers and directors are
sitting out there hoping, praying for an opportunity like that? Hire a talent
scout or organize a Twitter pitch party. Hold a fucking online contest for all I
care. Let the world amaze you with what it’s got.”
He propped his head on three fingers. “That’s a…pretty good idea.”
“I know. It’s a great idea.”
“But what about production? Who’s going to take a chance on a debut
writer or director?”
“If you look hard enough, you’ll find one. And even if you can’t, Mike
can produce it himself. What’s the point of having all that money if it doesn’t
buy you the freedom you need to go after what you want?”
Mike returned, carrying a small tray of rolled joints, a bottle of vodka, and
a couple of glasses. “Sorry I took so long. That Greg guy wouldn’t shut up.”
He placed everything on the table and sat. “Shit, I forgot the ice.” He looked
at James. “Could you bring some?”
James stood. “Sure.”
When he exited, Mike stared at me. “So…what did I miss?”
 Scene 7
Mike

After the guests left, except for the two brunettes waiting in the bedroom
and his manager, Mike flopped into the first chair in the living room. He
rested one foot on top of the other on the empty chair next to his, staring up at
his manager. “Did you hit on her?”
James half-smiled, his drunken eyes now alert. “Who?”
“You know who.”
James chuckled. “The kid?”
“Don’t fuck with me. The way you’ve been ogling her all night says she’s
no kid to you.”
“Yeah. Have you seen that ass? That girl has got meat on her bones. One
fine Italian—”
“James!” Mike’s feet dropped to the floor.
“What?” He glowered.
“You can’t talk about her like that.”
He frowned at Mike for a while before he took a step forward. “Why the
fuck do you care?”
“I care because…she’s Andrea’s daughter.” Mike stood, his voice rising.
“When it comes to Maggie you need to keep your fucking eyes, hands, and
dick to yourself, do you hear me?”
“All right. Jeez.” He rolled his eyes at the ceiling. “Wow.”
Mike placed his hands on his hips. “What now?”
James tilted his head at him. “I didn’t think…” He held his hands up.
“Never mind, Mickey. I get it.”
Mike approached him. “If you have something to say, just say it.”
 James eyed him, a smile twitching on his mouth, and then he nodded to
the bedroom. “Enjoy your short-haired girls tonight, my friend.” He lurched
to the door, waving goodbye.
The sound of the door closing made Mike flinch. Had James just figured it
out? Was it that obvious? Fuck.
Mike shouldn’t have shown that. The jealousy. The weakness. His
feelings for her had to remain a secret. Even from the keeper of his secrets.
From everybody.
But how? When Maggie told him James might have hit on her, he
contemplated smashing his manager’s face and that of each of those fuckers
at the party who had so much as looked at her. However, Mike just laughed
with her, his emotions hidden behind a decade and a half of practice. Or had
he not?
His heart dipped at the possibility. He failed to hide it from James; he was
reckless for a second, and his manager noticed. What if she’d noticed, too?
No. He was too careful—as he had been for years. When he looked at her,
he shifted his gaze every seven seconds, so his eyes wouldn’t give him away,
so he wouldn’t mash his lips against hers. When he hugged her, he made sure
no parts under belt level got in contact. Sometimes—he knew it was crazy—
he even held his breath around her, because God forbid what happened if she
found out what her smell did to his dick.
He never could risk her knowing. He couldn’t betray her trust like that.
She felt safe with him. To her, he was the older guy, the friend of the family,
the mature best friend.
Mature my ass. One glance at that tiny dimple in the middle of her bottom
lip, and he became a horny teenager going on a first date with the most
beautiful girl he’d ever met.
Besides, having feelings for her was not the only secret he had to keep
from her.
I’m fucked.
“Signor Gennaro,” one of the brunettes sang in a terrible accent, her head
popping out from the bedroom. “Ready for bed?”
 He should be. Seeing Maggie in the flesh had his entire body primed. But
the thought of being with anyone else, when she was in the same city he was,
made his stomach turn.
Nice. He couldn’t be with her, and he couldn’t be with any other girl.
Maybe he should just give up now and be a monk.
“No.” His eyebrows hitched. “You can take your friend and go.” He
dropped on a chair. “I’m not in the mood anymore.”
She pouted, trotting toward him, the other girl behind her. “We can put
you back in the mood, signor.” She kneeled beside him and helped him out of
his dress shoe, the second girl working off the other.
He inhaled, and the weed smell lingering inside the room overwhelmed
him. “Don’t think so.”
“Oh.” The second girl’s fingers ran up his pants. “You break my heart.”
“Just tell us what you want, what you need,” The first one whispered in
his ear, her tongue around his earlobe. “We’ll do anything for you, signor.”
The second brunette, already stripped to her lace underwear, sat in his lap.
“Anything.”
Of course, they would. Most of the girls who ended up in his bed were
there for this reason only—they wanted to brag about fucking the A-list
celebrity—and that meant they’d give and not take. If they were really lucky,
they might get a casual date, but that was it.
He shut his eyes, wishing he could do the same to what he felt inside. Shut
it. “Nothing’s gonna work unless your name is Maggie. Either one of you
named Maggie?”
“No, but you can call us whatever you want.” She unbuttoned his shirt and
pressed her tits hard on his chest. “Imagine having two Maggies on you.” She
took his hands and placed them on her tits and then on her friend’s. “Four
Maggie tits.” She unbuckled his belt and helped him up. His cock suddenly
needed an adjustment.
The other girl took his arm and led him to the bedroom. She unzipped his
pants and took off her dress and underwear. “Two Maggie pussies.”
 He let out a warm sigh, imagining forbidden pictures of Maggie. How
she’d smell. How she’d taste. His cock was fully hard now, sticking up his
pants. “Yeah. That will work.”
 Scene 8
Maggie

I dug through my purse, searching for the key to my apartment. The dark
hallway and the spinning in my head weren’t helping. I evened my breath and
managed to put the key in the hole. My feet shuffled across the hardwood
floor as my finger found the light switch.
“Maggie.”
I gasped at Kyle’s voice. Then I swore, straining my eyes toward him,
reaching behind to the ledge of my working desk for support. He stood from
his chair and marched in my direction.
“What the fuck you doing, lurking in the dark like this?” I tossed the key
and purse on the desk. “Aren’t you supposed to be in San Francisco?” The
words were heavy on my tongue.
“I’m sorry I let myself in, but you gave me a key for emergencies. I’ve
been calling you all night. When you didn’t answer, I got worried.” A line
appeared between his eyebrows. “Where the hell have you been? And why
haven’t you been answering your phone?”
Every drink and drag I had seemed to hit me all over again. I weaved in
front of him, my stomach a little upset. Someone with IBS shouldn’t drink as
much as I did. He steadied me with his hand on my elbow. “Are you drunk?”
I blinked, willing my head to clear. I failed. “Yes. Stoned, too.”
He huffed a sigh, his features softening. “Come.” He helped me to the
bed. “I’ve been worried sick. You could’ve, at least, picked up your phone.”
I leaned down to untie my shoes. “It died, Mike. I’m sorry.”
“Mike?”
Fuck.
My body turned ice cold. I looked up, and his eyes were widened into a
glare. “I’m so sorry, babe. I’ve been with Mike all night, and I’m really
wasted.”
The tightening of his forehead and how his bottom lip curled underneath a
tooth squeezed my heart. I hated it when I made him upset, even if it wasn’t
intentional. “Why the hell were you with Mike all night?” He clenched his
jaw hard enough the muscles twitched.
I tilted my head back and breathed out. “We were supposed to meet, but I
couldn’t, so he invited me to a party. That’s all. Can we just go to bed now? I
literally can’t keep my eyes open any longer. I promise I’ll tell you
everything in the morning.”
 Scene 9
Maggie

I lifted my head off the pillow and instantly dropped it back. It felt like it
weighed a hundred pounds, and a headache was splitting it in half. Fuck
hangovers.
What time is it? I propped myself on my elbows, searching with half-open
eyes for my phone. Even the dim sunlight was too bright.
As I staggered out of bed, I spotted the phone poking out from under some
papers on the messy desk. 4:23 p.m. My gaze traveled down the oversized,
white T-shirt I was in. When the hell did I change?
I turned away and headed back to bed. A yellow note lying on the black
sheets caught my attention.
Had to go to work. Back as soon as I can. Call me if you wake up before.
You might wanna shower.
Kyle…not Mike.
Shit.
I closed my eyes, and the events of last night hit me hard. That was not
how I’d planned to spend the rest of the night. Just for once, since Mike had
gone to Europe, I would let my imagination drift. I would think about how
sexy Mike looked in that Armani suit, how strong his arms felt around me,
how warm the skin on his muscular chest felt under my hands. I would recall
the smell of his cologne that made my sex clench. I would imagine pulling
his jacket off, then his shirt, then his belt…
Just for one night, I’d live the fantasy.
In the morning, I’d forget all about it, and I’d become Kyle’s girlfriend
again. But Kyle had to be that good person he’d always been. The boyfriend
who would break off a business trip to check on his girl because she hadn’t
picked up her phone all night. Who would change her clothes, tuck her in
bed, and remind her to shower after she’d called him by another man’s name.
But he wouldn’t let it go.
The note assured me of that. He had every right not to.
You had to blurt out his name, you bitch. Shaking my head reminded me
Kyle was right—again. I desperately needed a shower; my hair smelled like
weed.
I ran my fingers through, pulling it up, and started for the bathroom. The
sound of rattling keys stopped me midway. I stared at the frown upon Kyle’s
face and sighed.
He set his briefcase and a plastic cup of coffee on the desk. “Good
morning.”
“It’s almost evening.” A sheepish smile twitched my lips. “I just woke
up.” I pointed at the bathroom. “I’ll jump in the shower, then…we’ll talk.”
He nodded, taking off his suit jacket. “I got you some coffee. Figured
you’d need it.”
“Thanks.” My eyes trailed on him as he sat. He looked exhausted. I’d
have asked him to join me, but, at that moment, I needed my privacy; the
bathroom was the only room with a door. The rest of the apartment was an
open space with no barriers. There were no rooms, only places. The sleeping
area. The working space. The dining corner. The thinking spot—a bay
window that looked over palm trees and mountains. They all merged into a
free-form shape that represented my home.
The hot water washed the residue of the party off my body, but not my
mind. I lingered in the shower, ridding my head of the Mike Effect. I’d been
stifling my feelings for him for years—seven long years—convincing myself
it was nothing but a stupid crush. A normal feeling any seventeen-year-old-
girl who happened to have the Italian Heartthrob as a family friend would
have.
But I was no longer seventeen, and Mike—despite what Andrea or anyone
would say—was now my best friend, and every time I saw him, my heart
throbbed.
When he’d go away, I’d keep myself occupied, forcing my heart to sway
in any other direction, and I’d forget and make-believe. Then he’d return. A
few weeks later, a few months later, it didn’t matter. One look, one touch,
and I’d remember. Fuck.
I let the water pour on me one more time, gathering my strength for the
confrontation. Then I wrapped a towel around my body and stepped outside
the bathroom.
Kyle was silent. Tense. His blue eyes dark with hurt. I nestled in his lap,
my hands clasped behind his neck. “I’m sorry.”
He held my gaze long enough for me to see the pain, and then he looked
down. “What happened yesterday?”
“I went to see Mike.”
“At a party. Alone. Why?”
I studied his expression. Was he… “Nothing happened between me and
him.” If you see the girls he parties with every night, you’ll know nothing will
ever happen.
His forehead wrinkled. “That never crossed my mind. I’m surprised that
you felt the need to point that out.” He swallowed, his face growing pale. “I
thought Mike was your friend. Why would you say that?”
I blinked. “Because I thought… I don’t know. Your face is accusing me of
something. I thought that was it.”
“What exactly happened at the party?”
“I…got heavily intoxicated.” I chuckled. “Too many drinks and too much
weed. That’s all.”
He narrowed his eyes, his expression disappointed. “That’s all?”
“Yes. I’m sorry I called you Mike, but that was just the booze talking. I
wasn’t thinking clearly. I’d been talking to him all night. I didn’t expect you
to be home. My tongue just—”
“What about this?” he interrupted, sliding a hand in his pocket.
I glanced down to a white piece of paper in his hand. Mike’s stupid check.
“Why did he give you a blank check?” He held it in my face.
 I got off him, my lungs tightening. My eyes found my purse on the desk,
the contents strewn on the cherry wood top. “You went through my stuff?”
“No. It fell off the desk along with everything inside your purse when you
tossed it. You were too drunk to remember.”
I chewed on my cheek. “Fine. Mike gave it to me when I told him I might
go back to my old job. What else do you wanna know?”
“So you’d ask him for money and not me? Had you asked, I’d have been
more than happy to give you the money.”
“I didn’t ask him, and I’m not taking anybody’s money. He put that thing
in my purse when I refused to take it.” I rubbed my damp hair. “I didn’t even
tell him about the movie.”
He rose. “So he just gave you a blank check, without knowing what it’s
for or how much you need?” His face reddened. “Who does that? What kind
of friend does that?”
“The kind that doesn’t need to interrogate me or question my intentions to
help.”
“Maggie, would you please—”
“Do you know how I became an architect?” I stared at him.
He folded his arms across his chest, letting out an impatient sigh, his eyes
hard. “No.”
For a moment, I regretted opening the subject. It was one of those
memories I pushed to the back of my head. Maybe I should’ve let him win
the argument and apologized to end this.
“I’m listening. How did you become an architect? And what does it have
to do with Gennaro giving you a blank check?”
Hot rage flushed through my body. “Fuck this shit. Okay. When I had to
choose a major, I couldn’t. You know me. I suck at making decisions. So,
under Andrea’s pressure, I decided to become like Dad.”
I sat on the bed, taking deep breaths. My gaze shifted to the bay window
as I sought refuge in the calming view. “Feasible. That’s what she called it. I
wouldn’t have to look for a job. The only thing I’d have to do was pass,
which to her was questionable, of course.”
I clutched at my arm. “I hated every moment of it, but I sucked it up and
passed. I was so good I graduated in four years instead of five. All that just to
prove her wrong.” I glanced over to him. “When I returned home, she didn’t
congratulate me or give me the ‘I’m proud of you’ speech, or do anything any
mother would do. She just chuckled and said she hoped I didn’t bring Dad’s
company to the ground when I worked there.”
Kyle moved to my side, his brows hooked, mumbling something I
couldn’t hear. My lips curled in disgust as my mind replayed Andrea’s
reaction in agonizing details. The cold eyes. The scoff. Everything.
“Again and again, I found myself burying my every need, my every wish
to prove her wrong,” I continued. “I worked for Dad for a year, one of the
most successful years the company has had.” I shook my head. “But that was
it. That was all I could take.”
I bent one leg under me, tugging at the towel. “I made the terrible mistake
of telling my own mother how I truly felt. Told her architecture wasn’t for
me, explained how lost and unhappy I was. There was no way I could stay in
that hell for two more years to get my license. But did it matter? She only
gave me that God-awful look she’s always given me. The fucking look you
give a failure.”
He folded his arms around me and pressed me to his chest. “I’m sorry,
sweetheart.”
I closed my eyes, willing the tears away. “Right then, I realized I’d always
be a shortcoming to her. Nothing would ever make her see me differently.
That day I swore I’d never let her have that power over me again. I promised
myself I’d never do anything I didn’t believe in.”
“I’m really sorry you had to go through this, baby.”
I sniffled, bringing my gaze to him. The soft expression on his face looked
too close to pity for my liking. “You weren’t there, Kyle. Mike was. That’s
why he jumped to help me with no questions asked. He knows exactly what
going back to my old job means.” All the shitty feelings I experienced over
the years I’d lived in my parents’ house swelled through me all at once. My
breathing became rapid, yet shallow, a panic attack threatening its way into
my chest. “It means she’s won…and I’ve failed.”
He enfolded me as I shuddered. “Hey, calm down. Just breathe.” He
cupped my face with his hand. “Look at me. Breathe.”
I focused on his blue eyes, evening my breath, cuffing the memories.
“That woman has hurt me more than you can imagine. What I’ve just told
you is the tip of the iceberg.” I trembled. “So please, try to be more
understanding.”
He wiped his hands across my face and rubbed my wet shoulders and
arms, his warm fingers soothing. “I will. I’m sorry.”
Then he took my lips between his. I kissed him back. His tongue twisted
around mine, taking my mind off the past, setting my pulse to skitter. In a
good way.
The towel was now on the floor, and his firm hands were all over me. “I
love you,” he murmured as he settled on top of me.
Here came those three words again. The first time he’d made that
confession was two months ago. When I shoved my tongue down his throat
instead of saying them back, he just smiled after. Since then, he’d said those
words whenever he got the chance, and every time my response was hot sex.
I could see in his eyes how badly he wanted to hear it from me. But I didn’t
say it. I couldn’t.
And not only because I was hung up on a silly fantasy.
Long term relationships scared the hell out of me, and when I started
dating Kyle, I had no intention to make it last this long. Seven months. But I
liked him. So much. And when he did say he loved me, I didn’t freak out. A
good sign that kept this relationship hopeful. Perhaps one day I could say
them back for the first time. To him and not to…
I bit his mouthwatering lips, stopping my mind from wandering off,
stroking the bulge between his legs.
Lowering his head, he kissed between my breasts while his hands
explored their smooth skin. As his finger stroked the scar near my heart, I
became short of breath again. He looked at me. “Is it still tender?”
I shook my head, smiling. “It’s almost nine years old. This isn’t why I’m
gasping.” I pressed his head back to my chest. “Don’t stop.” My fingers
tangled in his dirty blond hair as his tongue moved in circles around my
hardening nipples. “You make my pussy so fucking wet, Kyle. Fuck me
already.”
He glanced up at me, his lips stretched in a shy smile. “You know you
don’t have to talk dirty to turn me on.”
“I know I don’t have to. I talk dirty because I like it. Why don’t you try it
sometimes?”
“Because it makes me really uncomfortable.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m not used to it.”
“Yeah, ‘cause you’re so…good.” I kissed his neck. “Can’t say dirty, filthy
words.” I placed my hands on either side of his face. “Too bad.”
“Why?”
“I have a thing for bad boys with foul mouths.”
He blinked, bobbing his head. “I can do it. Whatever it takes to get you
going.”
I giggled and held his swollen lips between mine. “You don’t need to do
anything.” My fingertips ran between his thighs. “You got all I need right
here, and it’s huge and fucking hard, and I want it all.”
I hoped, when the time came, I would scream the right name.
 Scene 10
Maggie

The club was dark and packed with bodies wriggling to the booming
music. I was one of those bodies a second ago, but now I sought hydration. I
shoved my way to the bar and smiled at the one-dimpled bartender behind the
counter. “Hey, Tony!” I had to yell, the music was so loud it vibrated through
me.
“Maggie.” He smiled back, making some purple drink. “More shots?”
“Yes, please.” I shifted to fit among the people pressed close to me at the
crowded bar. “And some water.”
“Staying healthy?”
I laughed. “Sure thing.”
“You look good tonight. Celebrating something?”
I fluffed the back of my hair. “I won a contest.”
His cheek dimpled as he mixed more drinks. “Congratulations. Shouldn’t
Pretty Boy take you somewhere fancy?”
I turned my head over to the table where Kyle and my friends sat. “Pretty
Boy did ask to take me somewhere fancy, but I said no.” I looked back at
Tony, my brows hooked. “I thought you knew me better than that. I’m
heartbroken.”
He laughed, pouring my shots. “You broke mine first.” He slid the tray
and the water my way, his olive-green eyes reproachful.
My lips pressed in a thin line as I grabbed the drinks, memories of last
year’s Christmas party, where I did break his heart, vivid in my head. I
thought of something kind to say, but a touch on my back interrupted me.
“Do you need help with these, baby?”
My head jerked back, and Kyle flashed his pearly teeth, already taking the
tray.
“Thank you.” My jaw flexed as I nodded toward Tony. “See ya.” I
returned to our table, Kyle at my back.
My friends from film school, Amanda and Raoul, were sweaty from all
the dancing. Raoul stood, his dark eyes red and glazed, and held his glass up.
“To Maggie. May she win nine more contests.” He collapsed on his seat.
With a laugh, I tapped my glass with my friends’. “Maybe you two could
just chip in. It’s your fucking movie, too.”
“I would, if I had anything.” He tilted his bald head back in frustration.
“We’ll figure something out. Don’t sweat it, girl,” Amanda said, her
forehead glistening. Good thing she wasn’t wearing any makeup. She rarely
wore any; with beautiful olive skin, big eyes, heavy black lashes, and full
lips, she glowed already.
“The problem is that we’re running out of time. Submissions to the short
film festival start in less than five weeks,” Raoul said.
“I can try a few more contests or get more freelancing gigs, but I don’t
think that will get us nine grand in time.” I sighed. “Looks like I’ve no better
option than to take Dad up on his offer.”
Amanda’s big eyes became bigger. “You’ll do what now?”
“Yeah, I didn’t catch that last one.” Raoul stared at me.
“Stop looking at me like I’m crazy. It’s the only solution,” I said.
Amanda inched a brow. “Since when does Maggie Dawson do something
she’s not passionate about, let alone hate?”
“Well, I’ve never had to. Now, I do.”
Kyle grimaced. “No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do. I’m not taking anybody’s money for this.” I looked at my
friends. “Fact check: you guys still have school. I know you have part-time
jobs, but how much can a barista and a waitress make anyway? I’m the only
one who can make the kind of money we need. So…I’ll work.” I nodded,
assuring myself before them. “I’ll tell Dad I can take a couple of projects for
a few weeks if he’ll pay me in advance, and I’m sure he won’t mind. That
way we can start the movie as soon as possible.”
“Wow.” Amanda exchanged a glance with Raoul. “Mags, we don’t know
what to say. Thank you, girl.” They took turns hugging me.
Kyle wrapped his arm around my shoulder and leaned in. “What about
what your mother would say?”
A few months ago, that question would have brought me to tears and
made me dismiss the idea completely. But now, even though it was going to
be very painful going back to work and listening to the terrible things Andrea
would tell me, I felt even more determined to make whatever sacrifice
necessary to achieve my goals. I wanted to make this movie more than
anything, and nothing was going to stop me now.
“Screw what she says. A year ago I stopped seeking her approval. It’s
about time I stopped caring about what she would or wouldn’t say, too,” I
said.
“These are big changes for one night, baby. Are you sure you’re up for
it?”
I downed my drink. “Maybe not. But I owe it to myself to, at least, try.”
 Scene 11
Mike

Mike rode in the back seat of a chauffeured sedan, scanning his messages,
James next to him. They were passing the famous Hollywood sign on the
way to Mike’s scheduled photo shoot when James set his phone before him.
“Check this out.”
A flash intro with bright blue shades and a camera played in the screen
background, and a bold title appeared.
Mike Gennaro’s Favorite Screenplay Contest
Mike scrolled down, reading the contest information, checking the
guidelines and allowed genres. “I like it. Perfect genres. Cross out sci-fi,
though. Maybe in a few years, but not now.”
“Cross out sci-fi and leave all heavy drama genres,” James mumbled,
shaking his head. “You’ll get a bunch of arthouse scripts.”
Mike glanced up from the phone. “Good. Maybe one will have a role I
might care about. Actually, add arthouse action to the genre list.”
James lifted his hands in mock surrender. “You’re the boss.”
“When will it be ready for submissions?”
“Three weeks tops.” James shoved his phone in the inside pocket of his
gray, tweed suit jacket. “Once we hire enough staff, and the judges are
confirmed, it’ll be on.”
A shiver of excitement ran through Mike. “Perfect. I can’t wait.” He
looked at his manager. “Thank you, man, for doing this.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank your girl. It was her idea. I still think we’d be
better off going with another Universal contract.”
“Maybe she should be my manager.”
His gray eyes clouded with a flicker of panic.
 Mike laughed, patting him on the shoulder. “Relax. I’m joking.”
James sighed in relief. “Lately, it’s hard to tell.”
Mike shook his head, laughing louder, his eyes on his cellphone screen.
11:42 a.m. She’d still be in bed. His fingers found Maggie’s number and
hovered around the dial icon. He shouldn’t wake her up. He shouldn’t call her
in front of James either. He’d just called her my girl.
A few more seconds of hesitation then Mike’s finger tapped the icon. He
convinced himself that he should call anyway to…thank her. Not because it’d
been a week since that party and he’d missed her. Not because her voice had
always made his day. And certainly not because he wanted to ask to see her
again soon. Now.
“I’m gonna call her to say thanks.” He didn’t know why he felt the need to
say that.
James quirked an eyebrow.
One ring.
Two rings.
Three.
Shit. She’s still slee—
“Hey, Superstar.” She didn’t sound sleepy. Her voice went straight to his
lips, stretching them into a happy smile.
“Buongiorno. Do you wake up in the a.m. now, like normal people?”
“Only when I have to.” Annoyed clicks followed. “How’s life treating
you?”
“Well. What about you? What are you doing?”
More clicks. “Working.”
He rubbed his chin. “On your novel?”
She snorted. “I wish.”
He rolled his eyes and scratched his eyebrow. “Why didn’t you cash the
fucking check?”
 “Don’t remind me about that stupid thing. I should’ve ripped it to shreds
before you stuck it in my purse.” He heard tapping. She was probably tapping
a pencil against something. She did that when she was upset.
He heaved a sigh. “Why?”
The tapping stopped. “’Cause I’m under a lot of stress these days, and I
really didn’t need to have a fight with Kyle over it on top of everything. I was
never gonna use it anyway.”
“Hold on a sec.” He held up a hand in anger. “What the fuck?” he asked
slowly. “He’s got no right whatsoever—”
“Mike, I know you don’t like Kyle, just like every other guy I’ve ever
dated, and I know what you’re gonna say.” She inhaled. “But it’s not true,
and he’s a very good guy. You knew I wouldn’t take your money with or
without him, so please, just drop it.”
She was right. He hated every prick she’d ever dated, but this one was
different. He was no prick. He was…good. At least on the outside, the blond
broker had his shit together. That made him hate Kyle more. Mike chewed on
his bottom lip. “Fine. I’m sorry I caused this.”
“No worries. We’re all good now.”
He frowned. “Great.” Part of him hoped they weren’t all good. “Still, I
wanna make amends.” He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “Why don’t
you swing by the AKA tonight…both of you?” Let’s see what that cazzone is
made of.
“Another party?”
“You know me. Every day is a party at my place.”
There was a long silence on the other end.
“Please.” He pleaded repeatedly like a child until she laughed.
“Fine,” she finally said, and he could feel her eyes roll. “See you tonight.”
He closed his eyes, smiling, his purpose for calling forgotten.
“You forgot to thank her,” James reminded him.
Shit. Mike shifted in the backseat as James was forever twisting the silver
Rolex on his wrist, eyeing him as if he were a hobo.
“What?” Mike asked.
“You’re fuckin’ smitten.”
 Scene 12
Mike

When he spotted Maggie entering through the door, Mike lifted the blonde
in the golden mini dress off his lap and set her on the leather couch. He
winked at the blonde as he rose. “I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t take too long.” Her voice trailed behind him as he reached Maggie.
“Hey, bellissima.” He folded his arms around her, peering at the giant in
the silver suit behind her. Shit. He really is tall, and looks even better than
the fucking photos. He took his time with the embrace.
“Okay. Someone needed a hug,” she said into the cotton of Mike’s shirt.
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” he whispered in her ear, his eyes on Kyle,
who now had a frown upon his face. Then Mike pulled back.
“Yeah.” She took a step back. “Okay. Kyle, this is Mike.” She gestured
between the two men. “Mike, Kyle.”
Mike stuck out his hand, and Kyle shook it. Fuck. His handshake was as
firm as his gaze. Zero intimidation. “So you’re Kyle. I’ve heard so much
about you. More than I should.”
Maggie’s hand ran through the back of her hair as she glanced up at Mike,
‘what the fuck?’ written on her face.
“And you’re Mike. Can’t say the same,” Kyle retorted.
Mike grinned. “I find that hard to believe.” He shifted his gaze toward
Maggie. “If you haven’t heard about me from Carolina, you must’ve heard
about me from somewhere else. I’m everywhere.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t watch cheesy movies or read
scandalous tabloids.”
Mike feigned shock. “You’re not a fan?”
Kyle returned a polite smile and shrugged.
 “I’m not surprised. The majority of my audience is women. Most men are
just too…jealous.” He smirked at her, and she was glowering at the floor.
“However, my Maggie doesn’t watch my movies either.”
She raised her head. “Because I don’t like them.”
“Which is why I’m finally making new kinds, thanks to your brilliant
ideas.”
“What are you talking about?” she inquired. Kyle’s eyes were curious,
too.
“The screenplay contest. I meant to tell you this morning, but I forgot.
James and the team are working on it. It’ll be out in three weeks. I’ll text you
the link once it’s ready for submissions.”
Her glossy lips parted with a smile. “This is awesome.” She threw her
arms around him, smiling with every inch of her face. A chill ran through his
skin as her smell filled his nostrils. He squeezed her to him, his heart banging
against his chest. Instinctively, his gaze lifted to Kyle’s, and the blue eyes
were piercing.
Mike cleared his throat. “All right! How about you guys help yourselves
to some drinks, and I’ll be right back with the stuff?”
Maggie wrapped her arms around Kyle’s waist. “Actually, Kyle doesn’t
like to smoke. I’m gonna pass on the weed.”
Mike raised his brows in disbelief. He snorted, his fists on his hips. You
gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me! What the fuck is she doing with that control
freak? What does she see in him anyway?
“It’s okay, baby. I don’t mind,” Kyle said.
“You sure?” she asked.
“Yeah, you sure? Hate to get Maggie in trouble again, breaking your
rules.” Mike growled the last words. “You seem to have so many of those.”
She grimaced, shifting from one leg to the other.
“As long as my baby is happy, I’m happy. I don’t care if she breaks all the
rules of the universe.” Kyle pressed his mouth to hers.
 Mother. Fucker. Mike stared, blood simmering, teeth clenched. He
counted to ten, and the fucking kiss didn’t end. “Gonna get that weed or
not?”
She pulled away, her swollen lips grinning, eyes on Kyle. “Yes.” Then she
darted a dirty look at Mike. “I’m coming with.”
“I’ll get the drinks.” Kyle winked at him.
Mike turned, heat coming up his face in waves, the music suddenly too
loud. He weaved his way through the crowd as he followed her strides.
“Maggie, wait for me.”
She reached a corner far enough from the dance floor and spun, her stare
fuming. “What the fuck was that?”
He coughed and rubbed his nose, his eyes darting around avoiding eye
contact. “What?”
“Mike!”
“Okay. I’m sorry.” He stepped closer, his hands on her bare arms. Her
skin was soft and smooth as his hands brushed against it, and he noted the
way goose bumps spread along it. “I pushed too far. But the dude is a
douche.”
“No, he’s not.” She jerked his hands off her arms. “Kyle is…the full
package. Every girl’s dream.”
“But not your dream.” He leaned forward and met her stubborn eyes. “I
can tell. You’re not yourself around him. I really hate that.”
Flustered, she glanced at her silver heels. “No. We’re great together, and I
like him a lot.”
Like, not love. Yes. He lifted her chin, checking out her short, silver dress.
“Wearing matching outfits doesn’t make you great together. He calls you
baby for crying out loud. Since when do you let anyone call you that other
than Nick? You broke up with other guys over it.”
“You call me Kiddo all the fucking time.”
“To tease you not to…say I love you.” He swallowed. “I know you too
well to know that every time he says it, you’re in physical pain.”
 She shook her head, her fingers dipped in the back of her hair, pulling
then fluffing. “You know what? This, coming here tonight, was a bad idea.
We should leave.” She turned away.
He grabbed her wrist. “What? No.”
She twisted. “When you invited us both I thought you wanted to get to
know him better. To get along. I didn’t know your plan was to pull this shit.”
“That’s not… Maggie, C’mon, please.”
“I can’t just watch you being mean to him.”
He let out an exasperated sigh. “Okay. Just look me in the eye and tell me
that you’re happy with this guy, and I won’t say anything again. I promise.”
“I’m happy.” She blinked.
He scoffed at her lie. “Can you be any more convincing?”
“Fuck you.” She stalked to the weed table, where H, Mike’s personal
party planner and weed supplier, sat rolling joints. “Hey, H. What you got?”
“My girl, Maggie.” He selected a fat joint from the tray in front of him
and handed it to her. “You’ll love this.”
Mike got his lighter out of his pocket and lit the joint for her. She fist-
pumped H as she inhaled.
“You’re friends with the dealer now?” Mike smiled.
She blew in his face. “Yes. H is my new best friend.”
He coughed and laughed at the same time, his palm at his burning eyes.
“Get the shit.” She started. “And if you open your mouth with one hurtful
thing toward Kyle, I’ll chop your balls off and feed them to you.”
He burst into laughter, getting the tray. “God, I love you.”
“Did you just say something?” she yelled.
“I said you’re one hell of a woman.”
 Scene 13
Maggie

I took a long sip from my cocktail, my head on Kyle’s shoulder, as I

stared sideways at the skinny bitch in the golden dress practically giving
Mike a lap dance.
“So this is how celebrities party,” Kyle whispered.
“Seems like it.” I ground a toothpick.
His stare shifted to a man and a woman on the other end of the couch; the
man was shirtless and the woman just took her top off. Kyle blinked at the
exposed breasts. “Um… There’s live porn, too.”
I laughed, tracking the couple’s steamy gestures. The man was already out
of his pants. “Yup. They’re gonna hump right in front of everyone.”
“Oh God.” Kyle’s head tilted, his hand up to his eyes shielding them.
“And you like to come here because…?”
My stomach flipped when Mike gripped the blonde’s ass as she dry-
fucked him. “Definitely not because of the live porn.” I emptied my glass and
set it on the table in front of me. “Let’s dance.”
“Sure.” Kyle offered his arm, and we rose. He guided me to a dimly lit
corner of the dance floor, away from the writhing bodies. A Latin rhythm got
my hips moving. His glazed eyes lusted after me as his hands slid around my
hips. “Easy, Mags. A few more moves like that and we might be the stars of
our own live porn.”
I giggled, pushing my body against his. “Ooh.” I bit my bottom lip
mischievously as I felt his need for me. “How about we do just that?” Mike
shouldn’t be the only one enjoying himself.
Kyle’s cheeks reddened as I bent him to my mouth, his gasps loud. He
pulled away quickly and spun me across the floor, his gaze reprimanding.
“Pussy!” I twirled back to him. Then I turned, rubbing my hips against his
front, my hands all over his body. He grew harder with my every move.
My glance flickered at the semicircular couch. Mike no longer had the
blonde on him, his eyes on the dance floor, his expression somber. He
blinked away when I caught him looking.
Yeah, I’m no longer a Kiddo, Superstar. I’ll be sexy with my boyfriend all
I want.
I flipped my hair and swayed harder with Kyle, my eyes closed, pushing
away all the feelings I should never be feeling, not now, not ever. I just
couldn’t help it. I wish I could have. I was torturing myself for no good
reason. Mike and I would never happen. I was a kid to him. He didn’t see me
that way. Even if he did, I’d never look like any of the women he dated, and
even if he wasn’t that superficial, there were other million reasons why we
shouldn’t even try.
When I opened my eyes, Mike’s spot on the couch was empty. I turned
and found him next to me. My hand lifted to stifle a gasp.
He glanced at Kyle. “Do you mind if I steal her for just one dance?”
It struck me that Mike behaved, so I teased. “Actually, we’re about to go
home.” I grinned, pushing my weight on Kyle and lacing my fingers behind
his neck.
“I’m not gonna see you for at least another month. I just wanna say
goodbye,” Mike muttered, rubbing his forehead.
My hands dropped, my smile slipping away. Kyle planted a quick kiss on
my cheek. “I’ll go get our things. I need a minute to catch my breath
anyway.”
Mike held out his hand, and I took it. “You’re leaving again?” My heart
squeezed at the words.
He nodded with his lips pursed. “Tokyo premiere, then another promotion
tour around Europe, then Newark. We’re shooting after the holidays, and we
need to prep.”
“I thought you’d stay a little longer this time. You were away too long
already.” I only just got him back.
 The music shifted into a slower song, and he placed his hand on the small
of my back. “You know how things can be.”
I nodded once. Maybe it was for the best. How it should be. Because
every time he was here, my life got upside down, and I broke every promise
I’d made to myself. I must accept that I was weak around my best friend, and
despite how important he was to me, Mike Gennaro was really bad for me.
“You look stunning tonight, by the way.”
“Thanks.” No compliment could put me in a good mood now.
He drew me closer into his arms, his gaze intense. He seemed to be
holding his breath.
“What?”
His lips twitched before he spoke. “Come with me.”
“Huh?”
“I know this isn’t the premiere I’m supposed to take you to, but
Everlasting doesn’t actually suck.” Before I could object, he added, “And
you’d love Japan. I promise we’ll have so much fun.”
“You’re crazy.” So was I, because I really wanted to say yes.
“Why?”
“You want me to drop everything and go to Japan with you.”
He swirled me counterclockwise. “Europe, too. We can go shopping.” A
teasing grin spread across his mouth.
“I hate shopping.”
“I know. Still, I want you to come with me.”
I didn’t know how much resistance I had in me to continue this
conversation without doing something stupid, so fucking stupid it would fuck
everything up. I returned to his arms, gripping on every shred of decency and
sensibility in me. “I’d have loved to go. But I can’t just leave Kyle behind
like that. Besides, Dad still owns me for three more weeks.” And I’m
shooting my movie in two weeks.
 “I can buy Nick off. Not sure about your giant, though.”
I shook my head and put it on his heart, unable to laugh at his joke. “I’m
gonna miss you.”
He pulled my body to his, his sigh brushing my neck. His heartbeat
thundered in my ear.
I tilted my head, looking up at him. “You good? Your heart is racing.”
His lips stretched with a false smile, and I noticed his swallowing. “I must
be a little dehydrated.” He pointed in the kitchen’s direction. “I’ll grab some
water. Do you want anything?”
“No, I’m good.”
“Okay. Let me take you back to your boy first.”
I rolled my eyes and led the way.
Kyle twined his fingers with mine. “Ready, baby?”
Mike snickered, and I rolled my eyes again.
Mutual eye daggers flew between them. It was hard to tell who hated who
the most. “It was very nice meeting you, Kyle.” Mike leaned over and
whispered something in his ear. Kyle did the same and pulled back quickly.
“Likewise.”
 Scene 14
Maggie

“What was that?” I asked.

Kyle shifted in the backseat of the Limo Mike insisted on making our ride
home. “What was what?”
I made a face. “The whispering.”
“Oh, that.” He snorted. “He was threatening me.”
My lashes fluttered. “What?”
“He said if I ever hurt you, he’d kill me in my sleep.”
My jaw dropped. “That bastard!” I patted his thigh. “I’m sorry, babe. I’ll
get him for it.”
“No need. I already did.”
I froze, remembering his last word to Mike. Likewise. “You threatened
him back?”
“I told him if he ever touched you, I’d do the same.”
“What the fuck? What’s wrong with you two?”
“Excuse me? What’s wrong with me? He’s the one who treats every
woman like they’re his property. Including you.” His hands flew in
exasperation. “And you’re asking what’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with
you?”
“What the fuck do you mean?”
“Are you blind?” he yelled. “He wants to fuck you.”
My eyes widened in shock, and my chest heaved. I wanted to respond, but
my mind hummed blank. What could I possibly say to that? Mike could
never feel that way for me. He used to take me for ice-cream after school for
fuck’s sake.
 Kyle sighed and held my hand. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’m just pissed
off.”
I turned my head to the window, my heart pounding. Could that be true?
Could Mike want…? I slapped the thought out of my head, but for a moment,
I hoped Kyle was right.
“You’re wrong.” I finally managed to put two words together.
“Maggie, I’m a man. I know how men look at women, and I know what I
saw. That man is…not to be trusted.”
PART TWO

FEVER
 Scene 15
Maggie

THREE WEEKS LATER

I hunched over my laptop in my apartment, tapping a pencil on the

working desk, Amanda and Raoul each on either side of me, the monitor split
with three different views of the same footage.
“I hate the light in all three. We need to retake this,” I mumbled,
rubbing my temples, frustration coursing through me.
“I can edit the—” Amanda said.
“No. It’s shit,” I interrupted, jabbing the pencil at the screen. “Can’t
you see this fucking shadow? It’s in all of them. I need to retake this.”
Amanda stood and moved behind my chair. “Relax, girl. It’s just one
shot.” She massaged my shoulders. “You got this.”
My shoulders slumped, yielding. “Do I?”
“Hell yeah,” Raoul answered. “You just need to get some rest.”
“I can’t.” I threw the pencil and rummaged through the chaos of paper
and empty energy drink cans on the desk until I found my vape, my stomach
clenching. Damn IBS, damn panic attacks, damn stupid shots that wouldn’t
just be right. “We’re running out of time.”
He stared at me like I was insane. “We’re not. We’re ahead of
schedule, Mags.”
“There’s no such thing as ahead of schedule in making movies.”
“Yes. But with you there is. You keep pushing nonstop, you crazy
bitch.” He grabbed my arm, attempting to get me off the chair, motioning at
Amanda for help. “You need to get out.” He snatched the vape out of my
grasp and tossed it on the desk. “Inhale some air. Not weed. And eat
something.”
 My stomach growled. “You’re right. I’m sorry for being such a bitch.”
I stood and headed to a red backpack on the floor next to the bed foot. “Let
me get my phone, and we’ll get going. Lunch is on me.”
As I unzipped the backpack, my phone chimed. My eyes narrowed at
the text and the website link in it. I tapped it, and it took me to Mike’s contest
website. “Raoul, check your phone. I just texted you a link.”
“Whoa.” He showed the screen to Amanda, whose eyes went wide.
“No entry fee!” She high-fived Raoul.
A huge grin hurt my jaws. “It’s so freakishly awesome. Which one are
you gonna submit?”
He mused for a few moments. “Black Sheep.”
“Yes! Excellent. Mike would be perfect for Sullivan.”
“Uh…a villain?”
“Yes, a villain. A complete makeover. Major transformation. That
would get him a fuckin’ Oscar.”
His lips curved on the side. He seemed amused by the thought. “You
gonna enter?”
“No fuckin’ way.”
“Why not? Dark Hopes is perfect.”
“I can’t just put my name in there and expect unbiased results.”
Amanda shook her head. “Hello? Ever heard of pen names? Besides,
these things are judged anonymously.”
I stared at her for a second, considering the idea. This could jumpstart
my directing career. The industry loved directors who could write. But then I
shrugged. “Nope. It’s a long shot, but what if I get picked? He’ll know it’s
me. The whole credibility of the contest will be tarnished.”
“If I’m going to submit, your name will be there anyway,” Raoul said.
I cocked a brow. “Don’t you dare.”
“What? It’s your script, too.”
I couldn’t just risk it. This contest was so important for Mike. There
would be more to come for me, but for him, this was it. He was putting
everything at risk, taking chances for the first time ever, and it needed to go
right. Otherwise, he’d lose faith in himself, in the opportunity, the possibility
to finally have it his way.
To shine.
Andrea and James would win. Would sink their claws back in him, and
he’d never find a way out.
I held Raoul’s gaze. “You’re gonna use your name. Only your name.”
“Not in a million years.”
“Then submit something else!”
“What the fuck? You know the stuff I wrote alone isn’t as half as
good.”
I put my hands on his shoulders and looked him directly in the eye.
“You have my full permission and my blessing and whatever the fuck you
think you need to submit Black Sheep. Just please, Raoul, don’t put my name
in there.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re so fuckin’ stubborn.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” I patted him on the shoulder as my
phone rang. Tapping the green icon, I grinned. “Congrats, Superstar.”
“Thanks. You like?” Mike asked.
Suddenly, all the exhaustion and the crappy mood disappeared when I
heard his voice. “It’s awesome.”
“It’s been like five minutes and submissions are already coming. Can
you believe it?”
I wandered aimlessly around the apartment. “Bet your ass I do. You’re
Mike fucking Gennaro. Everybody wants to write for you.”
“Thanks for the new middle name.”
“Prego.” I teased as I stopped at the bay window, my gaze traveling
with the shaking palm trees. Another feeling was sneaking under my skin,
deep in my chest when I was talking to him. “When are you coming home?”
 “I’m afraid there was a change of plans,” he muttered.
“Oh.” I bent my head, puckering my lips. I so fucking missed him.
More than I ever should.
“Don’t pout, Kiddo.”
I glanced up, rubbing my forehead. “Okay.”
“Stop scratching your head.”
My brows hitched. “What the fuck?” I looked down the street. “How
did you know…?” A window rolled down from a black limo standing in front
of the building, and dark curls came out of it. “You son of a bitch!”
Mike raised his head, his perfect teeth flashing. “Can I come up?”
I beamed, my heart thumping. My friends crammed behind me, gaping
at the limo. “Um…I have some friends here, and by the look on their faces, I
don’t think you’ll be safe if you do.”
His smile widened, and he waved. “Can you come down?”
Amanda was jumping, her jaw still dropped, screaming like a maniac,
while Raoul mashed his face to the glass, looking like an idiotic creep.
Covering my ear, I shook my head. “I’ll have to lock these goons up
first. Can you wait?”
“Sure. I’m all yours tonight.”
 Scene 16
Mike

Mike’s eyes fell past Maggie’s face and landed on her body. She was
in gray sweatpants and a tight, navy blue sweater that made her breasts
bounce as she ran across the street toward the limo. He ran his hand through
his hair and turned his head to the other window.
Her hazel eyes twinkled with joy when she got into the car. “Oh my
God. You told me you were going away for a month,” she said, her voice
muffled by the wool of his coat.
He closed his eyes and kissed her temple, his arms tight around her. “I
managed to squeeze things around to get some free time tonight.”
She pulled away. “Just tonight?”
“Yeah. I have to get back to Newark tomorrow.”
“Fuck.”
“Don’t get upset. Here, look what I got you.” He inserted his hand in
the pocket of his coat and got out a black, square-shaped jewelry box. “An
early Christmas present from Japan.”
“Oh.” She opened the box. Her lips parted as she stared at the silver
bangle bracelet. “Wow. It’s so beautiful.”
“I’m glad you like it. Put it on.”
“I don’t just like it. I love it. It has all my favorite colors.” Her fingers
traced the titanium, black stems of the cherry blossoms intertwined around
the bracelet and reached the red rock in the middle. “Is that a real ruby?”
“Um-hum.”
“Mike…I’m speechless. This is so beautiful.” Her fingers pointed at
the Japanese symbols engraved under the ruby. “What does this mean?”
Forever yours. But he couldn’t say that, so he cleared his throat. “I’m
not sure. The man who sold it to me had a terrible accent. I barely understood
anything he said.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She flipped the bracelet between her palms before
she put it on her wrist. “It’s amazing. Thank you.” Another hug from her
warmed his heart.
As she drew back, his nose nuzzled her hair and his lips touched the
rim of her ear. He shut his eyes for a second, wishing he could slide his lips
to her earlobe and travel down her neck, her chest…
“Mike, you’re burning up.” The back of her hand was on his forehead
now.
He blinked, shifting in his seat. “Am I?”
“Yes.” She touched his cheeks, and he rubbed his forehead where her
hand had just been. Something he did when he was really nervous, which
only happened on two occasions. Struggling with the truth or being close to
Maggie. “Did you catch something from abroad?”
“Nah. It’s just a little hot in here.” He fiddled with the air condition
buttons, his hands shaking.
“You should get yourself checked out. The last time I saw you, your
heartbeat was over the roof, and now this.”
He chuckled. “I’m fine.” The only thing that hurts is having you in my
heart.
“Maybe you should slow down with the partying, the booze, the pot…
the pussy.”
He laughed loudly. “Jealous much? Now that your boy has you on a
tight leash?”
“Fuck you. I’m not on anybody’s leash.” She glared at him as he
snickered. “What was that at the party anyway, threatening him like some
gangster?”
“He told you about that?”
“Yes,” she hissed. “Now you got him thinking you wanna…” She
chopped off her words.
“Wanna what?”
 She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “Nothing.”
“Spit it out.”
“Well…he thinks you wanna…you know…have sex with me.”
Blood must have slipped from his face because, instantly, he went
from burning hot to ice cold. For the second time in one month, someone had
figured out what he’d been hiding for years. How had he slipped up with
something this big?
Maybe he should tell her the truth himself and get this whole thing
over with. Tell her about the hole in his heart that no one would fill but her.
About how he’d been looking at her from the corner of his eye all the times
he touched that blonde model, hoping to catch a glimpse of jealousy in her
hazel eyes. About the fire that blazed in his chest as he had to watch, arms-
folded, while her perfect hips moved for another man. Tell her how long he
had been fucking dreaming about being that man. Her man.
Wouldn’t it be better than hearing it from that giant ass?
“You have every right to have that look on your face. It’s stupid. I
know,” she said. “I told him he was nuts to even think that way. It’s
impossible for you to—”
“He’s right,” he mumbled, his heart sinking to his knees.
She froze.
Then her eyes flashed, and he couldn’t decide whether it was fury or
panic in there. Either way, she was oblivious, and he had to come up with a
retraction plan. Fast.
“What… Do you…?” she stammered.
He exhaled a heavy breath. “I mean I’d been a dick that night. Anyone
in his place would think that way.”
Her eyes escaped his as her fingers touched the new bracelet absently.
“Yeah. You were.” She snorted. “Okay. I...” She pointed her thumb at the
door, her eyes narrowing. “Gotta head back to my friends. I literally locked
them up in the apartment.” Her hand was already on the handle.
Cold sweat trickled down the back of his neck. “Sure. Yeah. Um…
listen, instead of another party, let’s do dinner tonight. Okay?”
 “Sounds good.” She opened the door and got out of the car. “Thanks
for the gift.” She ran to her building.
With a tilt of his head, he squeezed his eyes shut, steadying his breath.
What the fuck was I thinking? I’m such an idiot.
He looked at her as she entered the building. A fucking idiot who is in
love with you.
 Scene 17
Maggie

My heartbeats slammed against my chest as I pressed the elevator

button, heat rising to my face.
God knew how much I wanted it all to be true; I wanted to hear Mike
say, “Yes, I wanna have sex with you. I’m in love with you, too. Be with
me.”
I’d have jumped on him without a second thought. I’d have showed
him how much I loved him. I’d have left everything behind, lost everything
without a shred of care, turned the world upside down, to be with him.
Except that was just a fantasy, and Mike Gennaro would never choose
to be with someone like me.
The doors slid open, and I jumped inside. In the elevator mirror, my
face was red.
Fuck. The look on my face.
Sweat beaded on my forehead. Did he notice?
Oh my God, what if he noticed?
 Scene 18
Maggie

He didn’t.
At least that was what I figured when the first thing Mike said to me
after that awkward encounter was Kiddo.
“I’m not a fucking Kiddo,” I said.
He smiled as he opened the door of the silver Porsche for me. I got in,
face relaxed, thanking God for the obnoxious word for the first time. He slid
behind the wheel and started the car.
“Where’re we going?” I asked.
“Anywhere you like Ms. Dawson.”
“You’re telling me you haven’t already made plans?”
“I have.” He glanced at me from the corner of his eyes. “But they can
change. We aim to please, Ms. Dawson.”
“Okay. I officially prefer Kiddo to this creepy Ms. Dawson thing.”
“How about just Maggie?”
“Much better,” I lied. The way he said my name penetrated my core,
forcing my sex to clench. He didn’t say the name; he fucked it with that
rugged voice.
I turned away from him for a second’s relief and saw a rectangular
white box, tied in a red bow, occupying the backseat. “What’s that?”
“Shoes. From Milano. I looked at them and thought you’d like them.”
“Aw. Thanks.” I touched his thigh and pretended to forget my hand
was there. “You really didn’t have to. The bracelet was more than enough.”
“Come on. Just unwrap the box and tell me if they’re any good. You’re
an eight, right?”
“Yes.” Unbuckling the seatbelt, I spun and bent one knee under me as I
reached for the box. The car turned and the box swayed. I had to bend lower
to get it. As Mike switched gears, his elbow rubbed against my hunched ass.
A little gasp escaped my lips as I felt a throbbing between my thighs. I turned
my head, expecting he would apologize or laugh or say something, but he
continued driving as if nothing happened.
When I returned to my seat, I tore the box open, revealing a pair of
suede, black ankle boots. “Oh my God. They’re perfect,” I whispered, feeling
the softness of them in my hands. “Exactly my taste.”
He took my hand and printed a kiss on the back of it. “I know.”
My heart skipped a beat. The softness of his lips and the warmth of his
breath brushing against my skin were, suddenly, too much. What the fuck is
wrong with me today?
He made another turn and pointed at a jazz club. “This is where we’re
going. Is that okay?”
“You kiddin’ me?” I smiled at the blue, neon sign with the name
Vibrato on it. “I love jazz clubs. I’m glad you didn’t make a reservation at
some fancy French restaurant or something.”
“Is that what Kyle does when he takes you out to dinner?”
The mocking way he said Kyle made my eyes roll.
“I’m sorry, but he doesn’t know you like I do. I know you better than
your own mother,” he said.
“That I can’t argue with. Everybody knows me better than my own
mother.”
He looked through the windshield for a second before he pulled over.
Then he leaned forward and bent his head so close next to mine our cheeks
almost touched.
I gasped, and my heart careened. What the hell was he doing?
“There’re paps outside. You comfortable with this?” he asked.
Oh. Okay. “Uh…” I swallowed, unable to think of anything but the
wetness between my legs. I could smell his cologne, and I wanted to lace my
hands around his neck and taste the lips breathing on my ears.
 Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUUUCK.
He moved his head closer, blocking her face from the cameras, his
scruff scratching my face in the most pleasant way. “It’s okay. Go with the
valet inside the garage. There’s a backdoor there. I’ll be waiting for you.”
“Can’t you just come with me?”
“I’ll let them take my picture so they won’t take yours.” He got out of
the car and threw the keys to the valet.
I ducked, and in a flash, a young boy was in the driver’s seat, and the
car was dashing away.
“Are you okay, Miss?” the valet asked.
“Yeah.” I chuckled. Escaping paparazzi in speeding cars wasn’t new to
me, but I hadn’t been out to dinner with Mike for almost a year. It felt a little
weird and strangely exciting.
The valet led me through a tiny door in the garage and into a narrow
hallway. Mike was waiting by the backdoor as promised. He took my hand
and helped me up the stairs. We were escorted to a booth in the back corner
of the club, away from the eyes, yet close enough to watch the show.
When I took off my coat, Mike’s gaze sparkled with a sharp glint as it
fell on my figure, and then a frown darkened his eyes.
“What’s wrong? Am I overdressed?” I smoothed my red dress. “It’s
your fault you didn’t tell me where we were going.”
“You’re not overdressed.” He turned and gave the hostess his jacket.
His gray sweater and dark dress pants fit him well. With a body like his,
everything fit well.
I slid in the booth. “Do you hate red now? As far as I remember, it’s
your favorite color. Did that change?”
He rubbed at his forehead. “Nope.” Then he looked at me. “It’s
amazing. You look…” He chuckled as he took a seat. The hostess handed
each of us a menu and left.
“Oh, please don’t say I look like my mother. I’ll shoot myself in the
head right now.”
 He shook his head, reading the menu. “You don’t look like her at all.”
Sure. She’s a thousand times prettier and everybody loves her. “Good
thing or bad thing?” I took a deep breath, expecting the worst.
He glanced up from the menu, his brows furrowed. “Definitely a good
thing.” Then he bent his head instantly.
The sincerity in his voice and the sparkle of his eyes satisfied me. But
what was that when I asked if I looked like Andrea? And why couldn’t he
hold my gaze?
What are you hiding from me, Gennaro?
 Scene 19
Mike

A fucking red dress. Of all the outfits in the world, Maggie chose to
wear a fucking snug, red dress tonight. Mike didn’t need to see her in the
color that drove him insane while it hugged her curves like a second skin. Not
today. Not after he’d come so close to spilling his heart out a few hours ago.
Not when he was doing everything in his might to hide his true feelings from
her. Not when he was failing brilliantly at it.
And what was that shit about Andrea? If Andrea was hot, Maggie
was…
The last time he saw Andrea, she was wearing red, her tits practically
out, but his cock didn’t give a shit. Now, every second he spent looking at
Maggie in that outfit—with no show of cleavage, as she always preferred—a
pulse jumped through his dick.
“You’re being weird,” she said as the jazz band finished their opening
song.
Of course, I’m being weird. I’m in love with you. I want to spend the
rest of my life with you. I can’t even look at you without having a
motherfucking erection. But I can’t tell you any of that.
“Sorry.” He feigned a smile as a waitress was approaching. “Ready to
order?”
“You order for me,” Maggie said.
“You sure?”
“Don’t you know me better than anyone else? Impress me.”
He smirked. “I know I will, but can you do the same? I bet you can’t.”
“You want me to order for you?”
“Scared?”
“This is the easiest bet I’ll ever win. What will I get when I do?”
 “Anything you like, but if I win, you’re coming with me tomorrow to
Newark.”
She tossed her hair and squared her shoulders. “Deal.”
“Good evening, Mr. Gennaro,” Cheryl, the red-headed waitress
greeted. “Good evening, ma’am. Would you like to hear the specials?”
“Thanks, Cheryl, but not tonight,” Mike replied, winking at Maggie.
“The lady will have a well-done ribeye with grilled blue prawns, and a loaded
baked potato on the side. She’d love a Cosmo, but she’s bold enough to try a
Vampire.”
He took one look at Maggie, and he knew by the smile on her face that
he had won.
“And you, Mr. Gennaro?” the waitress asked.
“Your turn,” he told Maggie.
She tilted her head, a smug smirk on her face. “He’ll have a rare
hanger steak, no additions, no onions, mac & cheese on the side. Normally,
he’d go for a Red-headed Amsterdam, but tonight he’ll have a Corona.”
“Oh dear God.” His hand sheltered his face in embarrassment.
Cheryl cleared her throat. “All right. One well-done ribeye with grilled
prawns with a loaded baked and a Vampire for the lady. For you, Mr.
Gennaro, the usual with a Corona instead. Anything else?” Her voice shook
in the end. He glanced up and saw her eyes moistening. Merda.
Maggie laughed. “No, Cheryl. That will be all. Thank you.”
When the waitress departed, Mike swore. “You made her cry, you
know?”
Maggie chopped off her laughter. “What?” Her stare followed the
waitress as she disappeared. “Fuck. That was a joke. I didn’t know she’d take
it personally.” She looked back at him. “But I’m sure you’ll find a way to
mend her broken heart.”
He slapped a hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking as he couldn’t
hold his laughter anymore. “Anyway, you fucking nailed that order. Shit. I
thought I had this one in the bag.”
 “Well, you got mine right, too. Technically, we both won.”
“But that’s not how bets work.”
Her gaze shifted to the piano player as he started a new song. “Yeah.
Sadly, neither of us is gonna get what they want tonight.”
“Just for the kicks. What would you’ve asked for?”
A faint smile touched her lips. “You don’t wanna know.”
Yes, he did. More than anything. If there was something she wanted,
he’d spare nothing to give it to her. “I’m serious. What is it?”
She stared at him and sighed. “It’s something awful. You sure you
wanna hear it?”
What could it possibly be? He found it hard to believe anything
Maggie would desire was awful in any way. He set his jaw. “Yes.”
Leaning forward, her eyes darkened. “I’d have asked you to stop being
friends with Andrea.”
 Scene 20
Mike

Unsure if it was real or another one of Maggie’s teasing jokes, Mike

leaned back, processing her request.
“I told you.” She looked away. “But you insisted on knowing. Now
you know.”
“You talking for real?”
“Can you just pretend I didn’t say anything? This night shouldn’t get
any weirder than it already is.”
He scooted closer to her and touched her chin, turning her face in his
direction. “Where’s this coming from?”
“Mike, please. I know she’s like family to you. I can never ask you
that. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s stupid of me. I’m sorry.”
“Maggie, it’s me. You can tell me anything.”
“Can I?” she mocked.
“Fuck yes.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Well…”
“Well what? Tell me. Tell me why you want that.”
“Because to me, that is your only flaw.”
He stared at her for a second. “You’re kidding me, right? Not the
partying, not the fucking, not wasting my talent to please people and make
money? None of that bothers you, but being friends with your mother does?”
“Those aren’t flaws. They’re how you fight the loneliness and the fear
of failure. I get that. Don’t get me wrong, it’s unhealthy, and you really need
therapy—who doesn’t?—but I get it.”
Her clear insight into his soul took him by surprise. For all of the times
he wanted to feel truly seen, he’d never expected it to actually happen.
 She pinched the cherry blossoms on her bracelet. “I know everybody
likes Andrea; she’s adorable and glamorous on the outside, but we both know
she’s not all adorable and glamorous on the inside.” Her gaze leveled with
his. “How could you like a person like Andrea?” she asked slowly.
I don’t like Andrea. I’m in debt to her. He sucked in a long breath.
“Okay. Here’s a story that very few people know. When my mother got sick,
Dad spent all our money, including my college fund, on hospitals. It was a
terrible time. I thought I lost everything. Mamma died shortly after that. I
couldn’t go to college. My whole life was ruined,” he muttered. “But Andrea,
who wasn’t happy with her life either at the time, came up with an idea to
solve all my problems and hers. She told me she could get me into the movie
business if I signed with her as her first client.
“It seemed ridiculous at the time. I knew nothing about acting or the
industry. All I wanted was to go to culinary school and have my own
restaurant one day.” He shrugged. “But I had no choice, and it turned out to
be the best decision I’ve never made.”
Her reluctant eyes drifted, the struggle in them clear.
“Why do you hate your mother so much? This can’t be about her
pressuring you to go to architecture school.” It was time he saw more deeply
into her, too.
A bitter smirk curved her lips, her face pensive.
“Maggie?”
It was a few moments before she spoke again. “I’m a beautiful woman,
right?”
He quirked a brow, his eyes blinking fast.
“I need you to forget this overprotective brotherly figure for one
second and look at me with the eye of a man, and tell me if I look beautiful to
you.”
Oh, I forgot that a long time ago. Take one look at my pants, and you’ll
know. He took a sip of water, scratching his forehead, searching for the right
words. He wasn’t just her best friend. He was a fucking brother to her.
“Seriously? Nothing?” She scoffed.
 The waitress came with their drinks. Thank God. He grabbed the cold
bottle quickly and took a swig.
“Well, I know I’m no Monica Bellucci, and you’re surrounded by
actresses and models all the time, but I’m not ugly either. I’ve had men come
in their pants when they saw me naked.”
He spit his beer over himself, breaking out into a wild cough.
“You all right?” She sipped on her cocktail.
One more word and I’m gonna come in my pants. “I’m fine. Didn’t
need that image in my head, though.” He cleared his throat. “Cheryl, get me
some vodka shots… No, a bottle.” He waited for the waitress to leave before
he stared Maggie in the eye. “What is this? And what’s it got to do with
Andrea?”
“Answer the question,” she challenged.
He leaned forward, eating her with his stare, his heart throbbing in his
ears. “Fuck Monica Bellucci. You’re not just beautiful or sexy. You’re
fucking…perfection.” His chest heaved as his thoughts spun in circles.
“Happy?”
She pursed her lips. “Well, I’ve spent the first sixteen years of my life
thinking I was ugly and dumb.”
“What? Why would you ever think that?”
“Because that’s what Andrea has been telling me all those years.”
He grimaced. “That’s insane. Anyone with eyes can tell you’re pretty.
And dumb?! You’re a fucking architect. You skipped a year. At college.”
“It’s the truth.” She threw the straw away and downed her drink. “She
filled my head with this shit for years. I never knew I was smart or beautiful
until I heard my teachers’ compliments and saw how boys looked at me.”
The vodka bottle arrived. Mike poured Maggie a glass, and she
emptied it in one gulp. The pain etched on her face tightened around his
heart. He poured himself a glass, too.
“Why wasn’t she happy with her life?” she asked, her finger rubbing
along the glass rim.
 The vodka burned through his throat. “What?”
“When she came to you with that proposal, why wasn’t Andrea happy
with her life?”
“She sucked at law school. Never passed the bar.”
She slid her glass his way, motioning for more vodka.
“Easy,” I said. “We’re supposed to have dinner, not get wasted.”
“Then you shouldn’t have ordered the bottle. Keep it coming.”
He ran a hand through his hair as he filled her glass. She tipped her
head back, swallowing the entire shot without blinking. “Who do you think
she blamed for not passing?”
He shook his head in disbelief. “Maggie, that was never your fault. She
hated law school right from the start.”
“Not according to Andrea.” A cynical smile crossed her mouth. “She
failed because she had me when she was eighteen. She never had the time to
study; she had to take care of me.” She chortled a humorless sound. “Remind
me again when she’s ever had to take care of me? As far as I can remember,
Loretta took care of me, not Andrea.”
Gritting his teeth, he rocked his leg. Andrea was selfish and spoiled,
but what kind of mother would do that to her only child? Fuck with her head
like that?
Her eyes stared at him, lazy yet dark. “She never wanted me, Mike.”
“No.” I shook my head firmly. “That’s not true.”
“She never wanted Dad either and blamed me for that marriage, too.
Like it was my fault she got knocked up at seventeen.”
A tinge of revulsion ebbed up his spine. “She married Nick because
she loved him, not because she got knocked up. They had their differences
later, but…” He winced at the memory of a fourteen-year-old conversation
with Andrea when she’d told him how much she loved her daughter. How
she’d sacrifice anything for her. She’d said she’d put Maggie’s interest before
her needs because her daughter meant the world to her. “This can’t be true.”
“If you don’t believe me, I’ve recorded one of her ‘my life would have
been better if you hadn’t been born’ speeches. I’ll be more than happy to lend
it to you.”
“What?”
“I know it’s weird to do something like that, but I had to do it so Dad
would believe me.”
His stomach felt like ice. Maggie couldn’t be lying. Not about this. No
one would lie about this.
It was Andrea who had been lying to him for years.
Her daughter wasn’t her only victim. That serpent of a woman had
fucked with his head, too. And not only about how much she loved her
family.
How many lies had she told him? How many others had she pulled into
her trap?
“Dad has been overcompensating ever since, which makes me come
off as a spoiled brat, but who cares?” she added. “At least, it got her off my
back for a while.”
“You’re not a spoiled brat.” He didn’t know what else to say.
“It doesn’t bother me. I prefer this image to the truth.” Her eyes
glistened. “I hate how Dad handles it, though. I don’t need him to spoil me. I
just need him to be there for me. To stand up for me.”
He couldn’t help seeing himself in the same position as Nick. His best
friend had been abused her whole life, and he’d stood by, blind that it was
happening at all.
“I didn’t know.” He took her hand between his palms and lifted it to
his lips, kissing it, willing her to understand how he felt at that moment, how
he wanted to hold her, protect her, comfort her, kiss her pain away.
“It’s not something I tell just about anyone,” she said. “Do you know
what the worst part is?” Her breath caught, tears clouding her eyes.
“Maggie,” he groaned, a lump blocking his throat. “I can’t stand seeing
your tears. Please…”
She continued as if she didn’t hear him. “The worst part is that I don’t
hate her, and I just wish with all my heart she’d love me.” Tears broke free
from her eyes, staining her cheeks. “How hard could that be?”
He rested his chin on her head, his hands rubbing her arms. A sigh
shivered on his lips when he felt her tears on his neck. “You don’t need
someone like her to feel loved. You are loved, Maggie.”
I love you. If you only knew how much I love you.
His mouth dropped to her face, planting little kisses on her cheeks, his
head spinning from the vodka and her fragrance. His lips slid to her neck, and
he kissed her there, his hands low on her back.
This was wrong. Inappropriate. WRONG.
Yet his mouth glided up and his eyes dipped to her red lips.
Draw back.
He blinked.
Draw the fuck back.
He was only moving forward.
“Fuck,” she whimpered, her head up in one abrupt move, her arms stiff
ending in fists at her sides.
His heart ceased to beat.
“I promised myself I wouldn’t let her get into my head ever again, but
I fucking keep breaking that promise.” Her thumbs ran under her eyes. “I’m
sorry. I know I’m embarrassing you right now. I forgot we were in public.”
He tilted his head, letting out his breath. She didn’t notice he was about
to break all the rules and kiss her—again. Part of him was relieved, but the
majority of him was enraged. How could she be that oblivious? Had the
thought of him being anything else but her best friend never crossed her
mind? Or had that motherfucking broker dug his claws so deep in her she
couldn’t see anyone else? “You really think I care about that? Fuck
everything. All I care about is you. You have no idea how much I l…” He
pressed his fist to his mouth.
“What? How much you what?”
He’d kept this secret for years. And he’d done so with good reason.
He’d been a selfish monster in every other area of his life. But with her? He
would always protect her. Even from himself. He couldn’t lose his nerve
now.
“You have no idea what you mean to me.”
Her lips stretched with a pale smile. “I know. I mean, you flew to L.A.
for one day just to see me. Who does that?”
Someone who can’t stand life away from you anymore.
“And I ruined the night with all the fucking drama,” she added.
“You didn’t ruin anything.” His fingers twined with hers and tightened
around them. I almost did.
 Scene 21
Maggie

I traced Mike’s little, meaningless kisses on my skin from palm to

neck. The soft souvenirs weren’t meaningless to me at all. That one on the
neck almost made me give in. I had to jerk my head away from him so I
wouldn’t press my lips to his.
Fuck. Now, I was wet again just from thinking about it.
Kyle is gonna get lucky— if he’s there like he said he would when he
texted three hours ago…awake, and not going to fight over being late till one
a.m. with Mike—or I’ll have to come on my own tonight.
I barely stepped three feet inside the apartment before Kyle grabbed
hold of me.
“What took you so long? I’ve been waiting for hours.” He kissed me.
“I missed you.”
Good. No fight. I dropped my things and stretched on my toes, bending
his head to devour his lips. “I missed you, too.”
He pushed my coat off my shoulders, and it hit the floor. He turned me
around and pressed my front on the wall. His fingers teased at the back edge
of my dress. “You’re so incredibly hot in red,” he murmured, his breath
scorching.
What is it with men and the color red? I paused at the question as I
recalled Mike’s face when I took off my coat tonight. My jaw dropped, and
not because Kyle’s hand slid over my backside and between my legs.
That’s what it was all about. He couldn’t look at me ‘cause he thought
I was hot.
My belly clenched with a chuckle. That was what he was hiding, and
he respected me too much to show it.
Kyle moaned. “You’re drenched, baby.”
 I arched back when he slid a long finger inside me. “Kyle, if you want
any future for us, you gotta stop calling me baby.”
He laughed into a kiss he pressed on the back of my neck. “You hate
that?”
“More than you think. I only accept it from Dad.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” His fingertip circled my clit. The
slow, teasing movements blurred my thoughts away.
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
He chuckled, his face in my hair, his cock hard on the side of my hip,
reminding me of Mike poking his elbow into my butt. I swallowed.
Kyle swiveled me, lifted the hem of the dress over my waist, and
pushed down my underwear. He blew out a long, slow breath as his eyes
dropped to my naked pussy, one hand gripping my ass, the other pulling his
dick out of his boxers. He glanced up, his blue eyes smoldering.
“Someone is hungry tonight,” I said.
He nodded, pressing hard and insistent against my stomach, his kisses
searing. I pushed his boxers down to his ankles. He stepped out of them,
lifted my leg, spreading me, and hooked my knee around his hip.
Wrapping my hand around his erection, he felt heavy and warm in my
palm. What would Mike’s feel like? Long? Thick? Hard? Exactly the right
size for me? I snapped my eyes open. What the fuck? You already have a
perfect man, and he’s hard in your hands. Focus.
“You okay?” Kyle bit his lip, his eyes half-open.
“Yeah.”
He pulsed in my palm, his lips curled as if he were about to eat me. He
grabbed a tiny package from the table and tore it with his teeth.
We don’t keep the condoms here. I smirked as he rolled it on. This was
no spontaneous fucking. I’d come home and found him up at one a.m., half-
naked, with an erection the size of Texas and a condom by the door. He’d
planned this. “What’re you up to, Kyle Burley?”
“My intentions are utterly dishonorable. Isn’t it obvious? Or my cock
is too subtle for you?”
Kyle said cock. I giggled. It must be something big that you’re
planning. Fine. Fuck first, find out later. He lifted me higher, his hands
strong on my ass for support. Poised against me, he pushed in slowly.
My lips parted with a gasp when he filled me. His eyes glowed as they
watched every reaction on my face. His thrusts grew faster, rougher. I
gripped his shoulders, afraid I might fall.
“I got you,” he reassured me, his voice tight. His teeth scraped against
my neck, and I was yanked back to that fucking moment when Mike’s lips
were there.
Get the fuck out of my head.
A man I liked so much was inside my pussy, but I couldn’t block out
the images of Mike’s lips on me, burning my skin. Of my tearing his clothes
off and crushing him against my body. Of him throbbing inside me.
“God,” I screamed.
“You’re close?” Kyle asked between gasps.
I winced and rolled my head back against the wall. “Almost. Slow
down.”
He lifted my other leg, wrapping both around his hips. His thrusts
became slow, deliberate, his delicious grunts hot on my neck.
Why the fuck am I not coming? “Shit. Faster now.”
He pushed in and out. Fast. Urgent. Still, I wasn’t coming. Just get it
over with. Just this once.
With my eyes shut, my fingers tangled in Kyle’s hair. I pictured the
curly hair instead. The rugged grunts. The naked chest. The fucking hottest
ass I’d ever seen. The endlessly tormenting mouth whispering my name—
“Oh God!” My orgasm exploded. Finally.
I opened my eyes to find Kyle watching me come apart. His hips grew
jagged around my thighs, and a long moan burst out of his lips as he came.
“Christ, Mags. You’ve worn me out.” He let go of my hips and set me
on my feet, his breaths heavy on my shoulder.
 A grin took over me, my legs shaking, worn out, too. He held my gaze,
sweat beading his forehead, his breaths blazing my face. He never looked
sexier. Why did I torment myself like that? Why couldn’t I enjoy the man
standing before me, worshiping me?
Mike was a playboy who fucked any girl that came in his way. Even if
it was temporary, and he was capable of devoting himself to the woman he
truly loved, I’d never be that woman. Tonight was enough proof. He’d
always be my mother’s friend, and I’d always be his friend’s daughter. A kid.
For him, looking at me as sexy was a crime. Forbidden.
Never again, I promised myself, determined to keep my word this
time, as I took a dive in the blue eyes. It was time I let go of that silly fantasy
and enjoy what I already had.
“Move in with me,” he said.
Fuck.
His words took long moments to register in my mind. “That’s what
you’re up to?”
A breath trembled on his lips as he nodded. “Move in with me, Mags.”
I straightened my dress, groping for words, my eyes on my feet.
“Please, don’t freak out. I know you value your freedom so much, but I
promise I’d never mess that up.”
I glanced up at his face, thoughts swirling in my head. Last year when
Tony dared say he loved me after going out for two months, I’d panicked—
literally had a panic attack—to the point of breaking up with him. Now, Kyle
was asking me to move in with him, and, surprisingly, I wasn’t freaking out. I
was considering it.
Perhaps it had something to do with the impeccable timing. I had just
decided never to let the Mike Effect affect me again. Yes, I might not have
been following my passion this time, but what did passion get me so far?
Pain. Disappointment. Impossible dreams. What if I, for once, chose what
was right for me?
“I want my bed to smell like you. Want to watch TV with you in PJs.
Cook for you. Make love to you in the middle of the night and first thing
when I wake up.” He rested his forehead on mine, his hands on either side of
my face. “I want to kiss you before I go to work, and I want to come home to
you, Maggie.”
Fuck, that was sweet. Cheesy, but sweet. “Well…it doesn’t seem like
such a terrible idea.”
A gasp escaped his mouth. “Yeah?”
My lips twitched with a smile. “Yeah.”
My feet lifted off the floor, and I found myself spinning, his strong
arms tight around me. I giggled into his mouth as he kissed me.
“I love you, Maggie Dawson,” he said as he put me down. I leaned to
kiss him again, but he pulled away. “You don’t have to do that every time I
say I love you.”
I blinked at him, stunned for a moment, and then looked away. He met
my stare. “You think I haven’t noticed? It’s all right. I don’t mind saying it
for the both of us.”
“Maybe you don’t have to,” I whispered, carefully weighing my next
words.
“What?” He seemed to be holding his breath.
My heart rocketed in my chest. My whole body tingled with something
so strong, so loud, smothering everything else, including my sanity, hushing
my fears. “I love you, too, Kyle.”
I didn’t know what kind of a woman possessed me and made me say
those words, but I did know, in that instance, I loved him. Maybe not in the
same way I loved someone I didn’t dare name now. But I did love Kyle. And
I hoped to God it would be enough.
He finally let his breath out. “You don’t know how long I’ve been
waiting for this.”
To my surprise, I didn’t regret saying it. I was serious about making
this relationship work, and I didn’t mind going all in. “Can I kiss you now?”
“Oh, we’re gonna do a lot more than kissing.”
 Scene 22
Mike

Mike walked into the hotel suite, tossing his wallet on the counter,
while he scrolled through his phone. As he looked for someone to play
Maggie tonight—a quick fix for the bulge in his pants—Andrea’s name
jumped in his face, sending a jolt of disgust and rage through him. He
narrowed his eyes at it for a second, and then tapped dial.
“Mike?” Her voice was thick with sleep.
“Did I wake you?” He removed his watch and dropped it on the
granite, then held on to the edge of the island as he worked off his first dress
boot.
She yawned. “Yes.”
“Good.” He got his second boot off and walked to the first chair in the
living room.
“Are you all right? What happened?”
“I just wanna ask you one question.” His lips twisted as he sat. “How
could you do this to her?”
“What…what’re you talking about? Who’s her?”
“Maggie.”
“What the hell?” There was a rustle of something. “You’re calling me
in the middle of the night to give me a piece of your mind about some lies my
daughter filled—?”
“It’s always someone else’s fault, right? Someone has to take the
blame, but never you. Do you get off on hurting vulnerable people who need
you? Or are you just so fuckin’ miserable you can’t stand seeing anybody
happy, even your own daughter?”
The line went quiet for too long.
“You’re still there?” He undid his belt.
 “If you’re finished, I’d like to go back to bed now.”
“I just want you to know one thing.” He clenched his teeth. “I hate
you.”
“No, you don’t. You’re just drunk.”
“And I’ll hate you more when I’m sober.” He closed his eyes and
pushed against the floor. “I hate you, and I love her.”
More rustling. More quiet. “She just reminds you of me when I was
her age,” she finally whispered.
“She reminds me of everything you’re not, and that’s why I love her.”
He took a deep breath. “You’re fucking fired, Andrea. We’re done.”
She scoffed. “Tell me, Mike. Who do you blame for your mistakes?”
He paused, blood pounding in his skull. “All these years I thought…”
His chest felt as if a heavy rock was pressed against it. He bent, scrubbing a
hand over his face. “You played me. You played me bad. You made me
believe it was all my fault, when it wasn’t. Still, I blame no one but myself.
For trusting someone like you. Why do you think I haven’t told her how I
feel?”
“Well, you’d better keep it that way. Sleep tight, Mickey.”
He frowned into the phone, and the line clicked off.
 Scene 23
Maggie

The doorbell rang in the haze between dream and reality. Not sure
what was happening, I opened one eye, my hand tumbling on the nightstand,
looking for my phone. The door chimed again, this time accompanied by
angry knocks, as I noticed the time.
4:52 p.m.
I bolted upright, cursing, and staggered to the door.
“You’re still asleep?!” Raoul squeaked.
I squinted at him as he strode inside, followed by a smiling Amanda.
“Weren’t you the one who convinced me I should rest ‘cause we were ahead
of schedule?”
“But now we’ve lost a whole day over a whim with a certain
celebrity.”
“Don’t mind him. He’s just jealous.” Amanda stumbled on the shoe
box. “When did you go shopping?”
I shut the door and picked up the box, smiling as I recalled dropping
my belongings midway to plunge into Kyle’s arms. “I didn’t.”
“He bought you shoes?” She snatched the box out of my hands and
opened it. “Oh my God.”
Raoul wheeled to peer at Mike’s gift. “You are one lucky bitch.”
I cocked a brow as they swooned over a pair of ankle boots. “I’m
gonna hit the shower, dickheads.”
“Make it quick. We want the juicy details,” he demanded.
I did make it quick, but not to feed my friends with gossip. I needed to
occupy my head with something bigger than yesterday’s decision. Work was
the best distraction.
 When I reached the working station, Amanda and Raoul’s hammering
interrogations fell on me unheard. The what ifs and the maybes jamming my
brain were louder than anything. I’d always hated that about myself. The
uncertainty that sucked my soul after every decision I finally made.
“Could you just shut up?” I threw my hands in the air. Last night, I was
happy, certain, and determined. Today, I was everything but. It was all
slipping away and talking about Mike wouldn’t help.
“No way. You had a date with Mike Gennaro. We wanna know
everything,” Amanda said.
“Date? What date? I had dinner with my friend. If you want juice, I’ve
something better to tell you.” My phone vibrated. Amanda raced to the
nightstand before I could move.
“What the fuck?” I glared at Amanda as she peeked at the screen.
“Give me my phone now.”
Amanda snickered. “Uh…Raoul, you and I are friends, right?”
“Yeah,” he answered cautiously.
“Do you text me before your flight saying you miss me already and
can’t wait for Christmas to see me again?”
I flew off my chair, darting another death glare at Amanda.
“Highly unlikely,” he answered.
I yanked the phone out of Amanda’s hand. “Are you fuckin’ best
friends?” I glanced back and forth between the two. “And when have you
ever traveled long enough to miss anybody?”
“Ooh! Defensive,” he said. “Remind me what that means again?”
I pointed my index finger at him. “Fuck you.” My finger shifted
toward Amanda. “And you.”
I read Mike’s text as they laughed. On the plane. Missing u already.
Can’t wait for Christmas to b with u again.
The phone shook with another message, and my heart thudded. I
pushed Amanda aside when she tried to peek again and motioned for her to
return to her seat.
 The new message was a selfie of Mike on the plane, pouting like a
child. I snorted, my fingers tapping on letters. I should’ve lost that bet on
purpose. I added multiple sad emojis and tapped SEND.
The sound of rattling keys made me swallow. I locked my phone and
looked up.
“Kyle is here,” Amanda chimed in.
“Hey, guys.” He closed the front door as Amanda and Raoul greeted
him.
I gave Kyle a hug, throwing my friends a dirty look, waving for them
to start working.
“You just woke up?” Kyle asked.
“Yeah, I overslept. I hadn’t slept in two days and our last marathon
finished me,” I replied.
He blushed, smiling. “I know. We didn’t even get a chance to discuss
the arrangements. I came as soon as I finished work so we can get things in
order for the moving.” His hands rubbed along my arms. “I couldn’t wait.”
I scratched the back of my neck, pulling at my hair a little. “We’ll have
plenty of time to discuss this when I finish the movie. You know I can’t
move in before that.”
“Which is in a few days. I can arrange everything this week so you can
move in as soon as you’re done. All you need to do is give me a list of things
to buy.”
My stomach tightened with unease. My chest too. “I don’t know, Kyle.
I don’t even know if I want to move to your place, or if you should come live
with me.”
“Of course, we’re gonna live at my place. How’s that even a
question?”
What the fuck? “Of course, it’s a question.” I raised my eyebrows,
perplexed. “Even if we agree to live at your apartment, I need to take another
look at it, at least, to take measurements. We’re gonna discuss colors and
breaking walls. Agree and disagree on renovations. Compromise.”
“You have my full consent to do whatever you want. Just tell me what
to do.”
“Kyle, please.” I blew out a frustrated breath. “Look, I really can’t talk
about this right now. I’ve already lost yesterday and burned daylight today. I
can’t afford to lose another minute. The festival will be closed to submissions
in five days.”
“All that didn’t seem important yesterday when you dropped
everything to dress up and go have dinner with your friend.”
Here it is. The fight he deliberately didn’t start last night. “Excuse
me?”
His forehead creased. “What, you can waste five precious hours with
him, but you can’t spare thirty minutes for something as important as moving
in together?”
“Oh my God. You’re moving in together?” Amanda jumped to her
feet. “Congratulations.” She screamed and gave me a hug. “Is that what you
were trying to tell us?”
I frowned, glaring at Kyle. “Yeah, but you guys wouldn’t shut up.”
Kyle folded his arms across his chest while Raoul rose from his seat
and congratulated him. “Sorry, Mags. We just wanted to know what
happened at that dinner.”
“Don’t we all?” Kyle mumbled.
I broke my embrace with Amanda. “What the… You know what? All
of you, listen carefully ‘cause I’m gonna say this once and for all,” I
commanded, anger rumbling in my chest. “I know you see Mike Gennaro as
a fucking god, but I don’t, not when I’m used to waking up to find him
watching TV in our living room on a Tuesday. I’ve known the man since I
was BORN.”
The three of them looked startled as I lashed out, but I didn’t care.
These three people are supposed to be ones of the closest to me. The people
who loved me, and I loved back. I didn’t need to take shit from them, too.
This haze and confusion and accusations were fucking up my mind, and they
needed to end right now.
“It’s completely normal for him to give me expensive gifts, ‘cause
that’s what fucking rich people do. I used to do it all the time, too, when I
was. It doesn’t mean anything at all,” I bellowed, my fists on my hips.
“And you know why he can’t wait for Christmas to see me again?
Because we’ve only seen each other five fuckin’ times all year. Five.” I held
up a hand, spreading my fingers. “This holiday is the only time we can be
together before he takes off again to make more movies for God knows how
long. And just so you know, even though I hate the fucking holidays, I, too,
can’t wait for Christmas to see him again.” I gritted my teeth. “Any more
fucking questions?”
Amanda and Raoul exchanged a glance and shook their heads like
scared morons.
“Good, ‘cause we have work to do.” I stalked toward my laptop. From
the corner of my eye, I saw a grimace I couldn’t interpret on Kyle’s face.
 Scene 24
Maggie

I looked up from my laptop when Kyle plopped down on the couch

next to me. The sheepish smile on his face made me quirk an eyebrow.
“What?”
“Is it too early to ask?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes.” It’d been two days since I’d agreed on a two-
week trial of staying at his apartment—to see if I liked it enough to make it
our new home—and he was already asking if I had made up my mind. Two
fucking days.
As I glanced back at the laptop, I could feel his stare on me. If he
wanted an answer now, it would be a big fat no. The apartment was twice as
big as mine, yet stifling. The monochrome, Ikea furniture set me off. I didn’t
mind the black, but there was just too much white. Who in their right minds
would buy a white, leather couch for the living room? My mouth twisted at
the thought as I shifted in the ridiculous couch.
He bent his head closer to the screen. “What are you doing anyway?”
“Cyber stalking the festival jury.”
He chuckled and leaned back. “How many views so far?”
“One thousand, thirty-two,” I mumbled, chewing on my fingernail.
“That’s pretty awesome.”
“Not so awesome. Eyes on Vallarta and Birth are kicking our asses.”
“But the results have nothing to do with the views, right?”
“No, but it’s an indicator.”
His hand saved what was left of the fingernail from my teeth. “Maggie,
you’ll win. Just relax. You got this.”
 I sucked in a breath between my teeth, missing my vape. It was the
only thing that calmed me, yet I couldn’t use it inside his place. Our place?
“Thanks.”
He laughed, shaking his head.
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s just I haven’t seen you like this in months, when all that
mattered was your novel. Remember that?”
“Yeah.” My eyes tightened. “Well, I don’t know if you’ll understand,
but this movie means the world to me now. I care about it much more than
I’ve ever cared about all of my stories.”
“Oh, I understand. I just hope you don’t wake up one day deciding this
was never something you wanted.”
I tilted my head, my eyes scrutinizing his expression. “You sound a lot
like Dad, you know?”
“Your father doesn’t believe you’ll make it, but I do.” He smirked.
“Only if you stick to it long enough.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “Is this about the move? You think I
changed my mind?”
He let out a heavy sigh. “I know you did.”
“Then what the fuck am I doing here?”
“I’m not sure.”
I snapped the laptop shut and rose to my feet. He grabbed my wrist
before I stormed out. “I’m sorry. I know I’m being an ass right now.” His
hand pulled me back to the couch. I yielded. “But I was super excited about
this, and you kind of ruined it for me,” he added.
“I didn’t change my mind. I really want this to work, but me sucking at
making decisions doesn’t mean you get to decide for me. Or us.” I held his
hands and squeezed them. “I need to try things before deciding whether
they’ll work or not. So trust me, I’m doing the best that I can. Do you know
what I’m saying?”
 His nod was hesitant. “I guess I need to understand that this is more
change for you than it is for me.”
“Exactly.”
He filled his lungs with air. Then he pressed his lips to my knuckles
and rose. “Okay. I’ll leave you to your stalking and go make us some dinner
then.”
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry.” I reopened the laptop.
“You’ve got to eat something. You haven’t been able to keep anything
down for days. I’m starting to worry.”
“It’s no big deal. Stress does this to me.”
“Since when?”
Tugging at my T-shirt, I snorted. “Since I can remember. Don’t you
know I have IBS? It’s nothing.”
“It doesn’t sound like nothing to me, so it’s either dinner or we’re
seeing a doctor.”
“Oh, God. Okay, babe. Dinner it is.”
“How about some Chicken Alfredo?” he suggested, already in the
kitchen.
My lashes fluttered. “Do you have amnesia, babe? You know I don’t
eat chicken, right? We’ve been together for almost a year. You gotta know
these things by now.”
“Shit. I keep forgetting that.”
“Why?” I asked, water running and metal banging in the background.
“Because everybody likes chicken,” he answered as if stating the
obvious.
“Well, I don’t.”
“Maybe you should give it another shot.”
What the fuck? I threw my hands in the air in exasperation, glaring at
the emptiness. “No, thanks.”
 “Your loss. Tuna pasta okay?”
“Yes.” I let go of the laptop and grabbed my phone from the oversized
coffee table before me. A text message popped up. I smiled as I took in the
words. If you’ve nothing better to do, turn on channel 62. Going live in 15.
I rolled on my side and stretched my legs on the couch, then switched
the TV on and flipped channels until I found the right one.
Commercials and kitchenware noise streamed as I waited for Mike’s
appearance. The evening talk-show host finally announced Mike’s name. He
waved to the squealing audience as he made his way to the open chair on the
stage. His hair was tied back in a messy, man bun. The beige tweed jacket
over the untucked, dark brown, button-down shirt and his pants brought out
his eyes. They were the color of melting chocolate and made him look even
more delectable than he already was.
Women yelled “I love you” as he took his seat, and he faked a shy
smile in response.
The host rolled into asking standard questions about his latest movie.
When he asked Mike to tell everyone what the movie was about, I could hear
the lack of enthusiasm in his reply. I felt his boredom. Every one of these talk
shows was identical. Only when the host mentioned Mike’s new production
company did Mike’s voice teem with life.
Kyle returned with two plates of tuna pasta and resumed his place on
the couch. His eyes flickered to the TV as he handed me the dish. “Since
when do you like talk shows?”
I rested my feet on his thighs. “I don’t. I’m just watching Mike.”
He stabbed his fork in the tagliatelle. “For the record, this is not what I
had in mind when I said I wanted to watch TV with you in PJs.”
I won’t be dragged into another “Mike has a thing for you”
conversation. I took a mouthful of pasta, my eyes pinned to the flat screen.
“Look at all these silly girls screaming his name, dying to be his
girlfriends.” He snorted. “Has he ever had a girlfriend, one he actually loved
and didn’t cheat on?”
 “He hasn’t had a girlfriend in almost eight years, so I don’t know.” I
labored a smile. “Do you know he has a production company now? The debut
project will be the contest winner’s script.”
He grunted, his expression annoyed. Was it because I’d changed the
subject? Or was it because he’d failed to provoke me? He seemed to be doing
nothing lately but picking fights with me.
The host asked Mike if he was dating anyone. “Oh, the million-dollar
question,” Kyle taunted.
Mike chuckled to himself, and then he looked up at the camera,
shaking his head. “No, I’m not seeing anyone. I wish I could, but I really
don’t have any time.”
“But if you had the time, is there a certain lady in particular you wish
to make your girlfriend?” the host asked with a cocky smirk on his lips.
Mike’s nervous twitches were evident. “Um…as a matter of fact, yes.”
His lips pressed in a tight line. “There is one.”
The crowd broke out in hysterics.
“What the fuck?” I dropped my fork. Glaring at the TV, I set my plate
on the table, sat up, and then bent my legs under me.
“Who’s the lucky lady?” the host pressed on.
“That I can’t answer. The lady doesn’t know yet, and she probably
never will.” Mike rubbed his forehead, sweat shining on his face.
“And why is that? You don’t strike me as a shy person, Mr. Gennaro.”
The host chuckled.
“It’s not about shyness. It’s about respect.” Mike frowned. “She has a
boyfriend.”
My jaw dropped. “Oh my God! The bastard is in love!”
“Like he knows anything about respect or love,” Kyle mumbled.
I switched my glare toward him.
“Why do you even care?” he snapped.
 Yes, Maggie, why do you even care? Why are there flames eating up
your heart? Why do you feel like you’re gonna pass out? “You kidding me? I
spill my heart out to that asshole, but he’s in love and never bothered to tell
me. I can’t believe this.”
“How do you know he’s telling the truth? It’s clearly a publicity stunt.”
“Oh, publicity stunt my ass! You don’t think I know the difference?
The fucker rubs his forehead when he’s nervous. He’s only nervous when
he’s telling the truth.” My fingers scrolled fast through my cellphone.
“What’re you doing?”
“What do you think I’m doing? I’m calling him.”
“And say what?” He yanked the phone out of my hand. “You can’t
blame him for hiding things when you’re doing the same thing.”
“Who cares?” Not you, I’m sure. “Give me my phone back.”
“Don’t you think he’d feel the same way when he finds out you made a
movie without telling him?”
I squinted at him, thinking he might have a point, but I immediately
dismissed the thought. “Making a movie is different from being in love.”
“Well, how about us moving in together? You haven’t told him about
that either.”
My jaw twisted, and my shoulders slumped. “Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
My butt returned to the couch as I replayed the last thirty minutes in
my head. Mike did text me before the show, asking me to watch. Perhaps that
was his way to tell me. What a shitty way to tell anything to his best friend.
God only knew how long he’d been in love, how long he’d been hiding
it from everyone, even me. The fire in my chest burned in my eyes now. I
thought I’d distanced myself enough from Mike to get rid of his effect. I
couldn’t have been more wrong. Although I hadn’t called him since our last
dinner together, I never stopped missing him. Despite all my promises, I still
wanted Mike.
 Now more than ever.
My fingers itched to dial his number or, at least, text. I had to know
who the superwoman who stole Mike Gennaro’s heart was. I eyed my phone
in Kyle’s fist for long moments, tears almost slipping from my eyes. Quickly,
I looked the other way and wiped my face.
No. What difference does it make? This is it. The end of the stupid
dream.
If I still had any hope left, it died now that his heart belonged to
someone else. Not only had he never been mine, now he never would be.
Evening my breath, I stared back at my boyfriend. “Kyle…”
“Yes,” he answered, his gaze distant.
“What’re we doing for Christmas?”
“I’m not sure. I thought you hated Christmas, so I didn’t plan
anything.”
“I do. But this is our first one together. We should do something.”
He leaned forward, suddenly interested in the conversation. “Okay.
What do you normally do?”
“Party till I drop.” Last year, when Tony blurted out he loved me at the
Christmas party, I broke up with him and ran to Mike’s party. I slapped the
memory off my head. “But let’s not do that. What do you normally do?”
“Since my parents passed, I spend it with my brother’s family in
Denver. We have a nice dinner, the kids sing, and we play some games. But
this year, they’re going to Spain.”
My head rested on his shoulder. “Too bad. I thought we could invite
them over this year.”
“Thanks, sweetheart. That would have been nice.” His fingers combed
through my hair. “What about you? You never see your parents on the
holidays?”
“God, no. Not since I’ve gone to college. Everybody was psyched to
go home for the holidays, but I stayed. They never understood why I wanted
to spend Christmas in dreary England when I could be in sunny L.A.
Apparently, they’ve never met Andrea.”
“You didn’t miss your father?”
“I did. But I didn’t miss Andrea more.” I laughed. “Besides, Dad
always visited. Sometimes he had business there. Other times, he gave
lectures at my school.” I looked at him. “You know? He called the other day,
asking me to join them for the family’s Christmas dinner. He also said he’d
love it if I brought you with me. Anyway, I told him no as usual, but…if
you’re up for it… I mean, do you think you wanna do that?”
“Yeah. Of course.” He grinned from ear to ear. “I’d love to meet him,
too.”
“Okay.” I nodded. “That’s what we’re gonna do then.”
His whole face beamed with excitement. “You know what this
means?”
“Yeah,” I squeaked, my brows high in my forehead. “We’re going
official.”
Fuck.
 Scene 25
Mike

Mike leaned his back against the headboard, staring at the blinking
name on his phone, his heartbeat banging dangerously. He still couldn’t
believe he finally did it. Confessed a secret he’d kept for so long and never
intended to reveal.
He just couldn’t bear hiding it anymore. Not after Maggie had drifted
away. Not after he’d found out about what Andrea did. What she’d been
doing.
He took a calming breath, exhaled, and answered. “Hey, Carolina. You
watched?”
A low male throat clearing answered. “It’s Kyle Burley. I’m sorry
about this, but I need to talk to you.”
“Kyle?” He jumped out of bed. “Where’s Maggie? Is she all right?”
“She’s fine. She’s in the shower. No need to worry.”
Mike shut his eyes in relief. Then rage hit him. “Then why the fuck did
you steal her phone and call me?”
“I’m sorry again, but it’s the only way I can make sure you’ll pick up.”
Mike slid back under the sheets. “What the fuck do you want, Burley?”
“I want you to leave Maggie alone.”
“Excuse me?” Mike scoffed.
“We watched the show, Maggie and I. Your message was loud and
clear, to me at least.”
A lump clogged Mike’s throat. “What…what do you mean?”
“She was furious you didn’t tell her about the girl you love. She
doesn’t know you couldn’t tell her because she is that girl.”
Mike bent his knees up and placed his forehead on them.
 “If you really meant what you said about respect, stop pursuing her,”
Kyle said. “She’s the only woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. I
love her more than you ever will. I’ll make her happy more than you ever
could. Please. Just leave us alone.”
The lump in Mike’s throat swelled. This wasn’t how he’d imagined
this. He thought she’d watch and then call him. She’d be suspicious, at least,
and he’d ask to meet her to explain. Instead, she didn’t even bother, and he
got a call from her jealous boyfriend. There was no point in arguing with
him. The message was for her, and she didn’t get it. She never would.
“Kyle…you got this all wrong,” he lied, defeated. “I’m like a brother to her.”
“But she’s not like a sister to you.”
Mike pressed his jaws together, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Just…just make her happy. She deserves it.” He hung up and hurled the
phone against the wall, where it shattered in pieces.
 Scene 26
Mike

FIVE WEEKS LATER

“You made a movie?” Mike bellowed over the phone, speeding in his
Porsche to downtown L.A.
Maggie sighed. “Morning to you, too.”
“Shitty morning! I can’t believe you right now. I’ve heard nothing
from you in almost two months, and I find out this morning that you made a
movie. That was your project?!” He made a turn on South Olive Street,
Maggie’s apartment building showing two blocks on the right.
“Yes. I made a short film, so what? Wait…how did you know about
that?”
“Not from you,” he yelled as he parked behind the building. He took
the two paper-clipped scripts on the passenger seat and the garment bag
hanging next to the backseat, and climbed out of the car.
“You couldn’t have just stumbled upon it? Who told you?”
He closed the Porsche door with his foot, held the phone between his
ear and shoulder, and pressed the lock button on his car key. “You think I’ll
just tell you?” He walked through the building back entrance, the garment
bag over his shoulder, the scripts tucked under his arm.
“Come on, Mike.”
He got into the elevator. “Just open the fuckin’ door.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” The elevator dinged, and she gasped.
When the elevator doors opened, a James Bay song was streaming
from her apartment and Maggie was standing in an oversized, baby blue shirt,
her naked legs stretching down forever. Fuck. He wanted to drop his things,
lift her in his arms, kick the door closed, and take her on the floor.
Angry face. He cleared his throat. Stick to your angry face.
He enjoyed the slight drop of her mouth and the flicker of surprise in
her eyes. “My God, you’re here. You’re really here,” she whispered, her eyes
darting right and left around the hallway.
He leaned on the doorframe, his gaze down on hers, their bodies no
more than an inch apart. “Gonna let me in or what?”
“You don’t need an invitation.”
“Damn right I don’t.” He pushed his way inside, his arm accidentally
brushing against her breasts. “Could you at least move?” He winced as he felt
the jerk in his pants.
“Did someone see you come in?” She wrinkled her nose at him. “I
have a reputation to keep.”
He scrunched his nose, too, as he noticed the clothes stand full of suits
next to her closet. “You fear for your reputation? Or afraid someone will tell
Lover Boy?”
She snickered in passing. “You want something to drink?”
“Nah.” His ass found a chair. He hung the garment bag on the back of
it and set the paper stacks on his lap. She hopped and sat on the table next to
him.
“Speak,” he demanded.
“You already know the answer to your question.”
“Are you for real right now? I understand if you don’t want Andrea’s
help, but me? Why the hell not?”
“Because for once I wanted to do this on my own…so when I fuckin’
fail, and I have failed, no one dares blame me for it. It’s my time, my money,
my dream; I’m not wasting anybody’s anything.”
“Do you really think I care if you’ve failed? I would’ve helped you
again and again till you’ve made it.”
“You think I don’t know that? That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you.”
 His hands balled into fists. “Don’t…” He huffed. “You’re stubborn as
fuck.”
“So I’ve been told. You gonna tell me how you knew about my movie?
I didn’t win anything. Not even an honorary mention. So someone must have
told you.”
He just stared at her, his mouth curving in a tease.
“What the fuck? C’mon, Mike.”
“Don Robello told me,” he finally said.
She blinked. “Don Robello the producer?”
“No, the fuckin’ astronaut.”
She jumped off the table. He tried not to look when the shirt slid up to
her hip. “You’re shitting me?” Her knees rested on the hardwood floor, her
hands grabbing hold of his thigh.
A thousand dirty images of the things he could be doing to her and she
could be doing to him in that position flashed in his head. He had to shake his
head to push them away. “I had a meeting with him this morning. He heard
about Mondo M, my production company, and wanted to invest in it. As we
talked, he mentioned his latest indie project. Guess who he wants to direct
it?”
She pointed at her chest in disbelief. He nodded, and she bounced like
a nine-year-old. “No fuckin’ way.” A nine-year-old with a potty mouth.
Mike looked down to stop staring at her jiggling breasts and hardening
nipples under the see-through shirt, but his gaze met her butt cheek on the
way down. Oh dear God. The girl was no fan of underwear.
He shifted in his seat, adjusting the scripts, making sure they were
covering his growing erection. “Yes fuckin’ way.”
As she finished her victory dance, the music stopped, and she peppered
him with questions about Robello’s opinion of her work. He told her Robello
thought it was savage and hardcore; exactly what he was looking for. When
she bent forward and asked him if he’d seen it, he nodded, looking down at
the scripts. He couldn’t afford to glance a second longer at the view the
unbuttoned top of her shirt offered.
 She asked him something, but he was too distracted to hear it, his filthy
mind at its peak, his cock aching. “Huh?”
“Mike, focus.”
“It’s impossible to focus when you’re dressed like that. Will you put
something decent on?”
“What?” She jeered. “You’re acting like you’ve never seen a woman
before.”
“Stop teasing and change, per favore.”
“Sorry. I didn’t know you’d lose focus over my tits.”
His dick stirred in his pants. “Jesus Christ!”
A smirk touched her lips as she jumped into a pair of blue jeans she
found on the floor. She turned, taking off her shirt, heading for the closet, and
he peered at her bare back, the curves around her hips mesmerizing. He
yearned to let his fingers glide down them, to hold her from behind and let
her feel beyond doubt what she was doing to him, to bend her down and…
A black hoodie covered her skin at last. “Better?”
“Yes,” he hissed.
She grabbed a chair and sat across him. “So what do you think of the
movie?”
“Honestly?”
“Yes, please.”
“I…love it.” And I fuckin’ love you.
A grin stretched across her face.
For the first time today he noticed the lack-of-sleep marks under her
eyes. He was too occupied with her body to notice anything else. “Are you all
right?”
“Of course. I’m more than all right. After this awesome news, who
wouldn’t be?”
“No. I mean before. You look tired.”
“Just haven’t been in a good mood lately. When I didn’t win, I kinda…
lost my groove.” Her gaze shifted for a second and then landed back on him.
“Anyway, how’s filming?”
“Good. Normal.” His eyes flicked across her shoulder to a new
installed door. “You have…a door?”
“Yeah.” She scratched behind her ear, rising to her feet. “I have a door.
You sure you don’t want something to drink?”
“Why are you changing the subject? Does it have anything to do with
Kyle moving in?”
She bit her lip on a smile. “How did you know?”
He gestured at the suits. “Again, not from you.”
She sat on one of the red-and-black bar stools aligned against the
kitchen counter. Her fingers reached for a blue vape on the marble counter.
“It was expected anyway, after you bailed on me on Christmas to
introduce him to your parents.” One of the worst Christmases he’d ever had.
Almost as bad as his first without his mother.
“I’m sorry about that.” Smoke blurred her face. “I just needed to get
that done.”
“Needed to get that done?” He scoffed. “How did it go?”
“Like you said. Expected.”
“They loved him?”
She took another drag. “And he them.”
He placed the scripts on the chair, adjusted his pants and went to sit
beside her. “What happened?”
She got down from the stool, about to change seats again, but he
placed his hand on her shoulder. “Stop running from me.” With his other
hand, he took the vape from her. “And it’s a little early for this.” He tossed it
on the counter. “What the hell happened?”
Her misty eyes escaped his stare. “She told me he was too good for me,
and I’d better find a way to get him to marry me soon so he wouldn’t run
away.”
 That bitch! “Fuck what she says. You know her. She’s full of it.”
“Kyle thinks she’s a very practical and charming person.”
He snorted loudly. “It looks like you didn’t prepare him for that
meeting. Does he know any of the shit between you and her?”
“Some of it, yes.” She pursed her lips. “But he thinks maybe I got her
all wrong. He suggests I look at things from her perspective and give her
another chance. Maybe I’ll start seeing things differently.”
His teeth clenched as he pictured himself shoving Kyle’s head in a
toilet after punching him toothless. “So he’s a douchebag.”
Her fingers tapped on the leather cushion of the stool. “I’m so lost and
confused. It’s not new, but it’s more than ever now. I mean, what if I’m the
douchebag? What if he is too good for me?”
He gaped at her. “Who are you? And what have you done with my best
friend?”
“I’m serious. I’m trying so hard not to be that girl who changed careers
and boyfriends like dirty socks in extreme attempts to be happy. Because,
even though I don’t regret following my passion, I wasn’t exactly happy,
only less miserable. But choosing what’s right, like holding on to Kyle, feels
like holding on to my old job with Dad. People would kill to have either, the
prestigious job or the dreamy man, but I… I’m still not happy. I’m anything
but. It shouldn’t feel that way, but it is what it is. I’m only making everybody
upset. That only means there’s something wrong with me. I’m the
douchebag, Mike.”
“I’m fuckin’ dead serious, too,” he said, his voice louder than he
wanted. “Listen to me.” He swirled her to face him. “You can’t let anyone
tell you that. Never.” His hands cupped her face. “You were right to follow
your dreams, and today is enough proof. And you deserve someone who
loves you for who you are, for your bravery, for your confusion, for your
beautiful flaws, for your incredible heart, because you’re an amazing person
in every way possible. You are too good for him, not the other way around.”
Tears slipped from her dark eyes. Then she buried her head in his
chest. “I’m sorry I stopped talking to you.”
His heart was banging, but he didn’t pull away; he held her shaking
body as hard as he could. Let her hear it. Let her know. That fucking asshole
was supposed to make her happy, not make her question herself to the point
of angst. “Promise me you’ll never do that again.”
“Promise,” she mumbled, sniffling.
He kissed her head, his eyes wandered to the misfit door. “Why did
you let that prick move in after what he said?”
Wiping away her tears, she tilted her head up to him. “Because I love
that prick.”
His stomach convulsed as if he was punched in the gut.
“At least, I think I do. Part of me does anyway.” She glanced at him for
a few moments. “And you’re suddenly out of words.”
He dragged his feet to the kitchen and leaned far in the fridge, his eyes
squeezed shut, his breath catching. The cold temperature in the fridge
counterbalanced the heat rising to his cheeks. “It’s…quite a revelation, don’t
you think?”
“C’mon, I’m not the only one who’s been keeping secrets.” Blame
dripped from her tone.
With a quivering hand, he grabbed a bottle of water and stood behind
the kitchen counter, his elbows rested on the cold marble. “So you’re mad at
me? You’ve stopped talking to me and started hiding things because I didn’t
tell you just one thing?”
“Just one thing?” She raised her eyebrows. “Being in love…for God
knows how long…is just one thing?”
“Okay it’s the thing, but it’s not like I did it on purpose. I couldn’t tell
you. What’s your excuse?”
Her mouth hung open for a second, then snapped shut. “Why couldn’t
you tell me?”
“You watched the show. You know why. I can’t tell anyone about this.
Not even…her.” It was a mistake right from the start. He should have never
opened his mouth.
She sat on the bar stool, her lips twitching. “That’s so fuckin’…
romantic. So sweet.”
 “Yeah? Since when do you like romantic and sweet?”
Her shoulder lifted with a shrug as she took her vape again.
“Is that… Are you…are you jealous?” I chanced.
“Yes, I am,” she confessed. “There, I said it.” She shook her head, her
cheeks flushed. “When I watched you blurting out about a secret, hopeless
love, I felt angry and betrayed, but mostly fuckin’ jealous.”
He stared at her sheepish smile and then down at her intertwined
hands, his head packed with a million questions. “Why?” He chanced again,
his throat tight with anticipation, a flicker of hope in his heart. Even though
he knew better than to give in if she hinted that she felt something for him,
and he was just torturing himself, he had to know.
“I don’t know. I have no right to feel that way, but this is how I felt.
It’s ridiculous, and…”
He wrapped his hands around hers, and she flinched for a split-second.
Slowly, she lifted her head, swallowing. “I have no excuse…for the way I
felt, and for not talking to you. I have no idea what I was thinking.” Her
thumb stroked softly against his skin, and his breath caught.
“I needed to give my relationship with Kyle my full attention. I didn’t
tell you about my feelings for him or living with him because you’d talk me
out of it.”
His shoulders slumped as the flicker of hope died. “So that’s what it’s
all about? Maggie, you can’t talk someone out of real love, don’t you think?”
Her warm sigh hit his hands as she dropped her gaze. “Mike…please.”
He pointed toward the door. “Why didn’t you move into his place
instead of installing this ugly thing?”
“Oh, believe me, I tried. That was…” Her fingers contracted, claw-
like.
“What’s wrong with his place?”
“Nothing. It’s just… I didn’t feel comfortable there. I wanted to
change almost everything. So why do that when we can simply live here? I
only put up a fuckin’ door to make a little private room to use when I need.”
 “Look at this place. It was perfect the way it was. Now, look at that
stupid door. That tall misfit is the only thing wrong here. You must have tried
every possible solution to fit that fuckin’ thing, but I know—and I’m not
doubting your architectural skills—that thing will never fit here.”
Her lashes cast a shadow across her cheeks. “Can we please talk about
something else?”
He didn’t want to drop the subject, but she was too stressed to
continue. He would never want to add her to her pain, even if it was for her
own good. “Fine. Sure.” He went over to the garment bag. “Come see one of
your birthday gifts.”
“It’s like three weeks away.”
“Well, I know how much you hate shopping, and you’ll probably push
the trip to the store to the last minute. I figured I’d save you the trouble.” He
unzipped the bag, revealing a black evening gown.
She placed her palms on either side of her face, gasping. “Mike!” She
hurried to him. Her fingers felt the softness of the dress hung on the padded
hanger. The one-shouldered top was made of buttery leather, crisscrossing at
the waist. The panel mini skirt had a zipper on the thigh with a piece of lace
underneath.
“If you don’t like it, I can change it,” he said.
“Are you crazy? It’s amazing.” She looked up at him. “And it matches
those ankle boots. Did you buy this from Milan, too?” Her fingers searched
for the tags fast. “Oh my God,” she squealed when the writing on the tag
confirmed he had. She bent his head down to her and kissed his cheek.
“Thank you.”
He felt a ridiculous heat in his cheeks, as if he were a fucking virgin.
“If there’s anything wrong with the size, let me know. I can get it fixed.” He
handed her the bag. “It’s an eight, but you’re skinnier than the last time I saw
you.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure it’s perfect.” She strode to the closet,
hung the dress, and squatted, leaning inside for a moment. When she came
out she had a small velvet box in her hand. “I’d try it on, but I want you to
see it for the first time on my birthday.”
 “Um…about that—”
“No!” She stalked back to him. “Please don’t say you can’t make it.”
“I will try really hard, I promise.”
She sulked, her lips pouting, her eyes glittering.
His heart did something worrisome in his chest. “Oh, come on,
Carolina.”
“It’s okay. I know how busy you can be,” she murmured.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” She pouted even more. The little dimple in the middle of
her lower lip drove him insane more than usual.
“That face. That tone.” He put his hands on her shoulders and met her
eyes. “I’ll make it. I’ve never missed any of your birthdays. I’m not gonna
start now.”
A wide grin lit her face. “Yes,” she crowed and tossed her arms around
him. When she drew away, she held the velvet box in front of his face. “I
know it’s late, but I got you this for Christmas.”
“Oh. Thank you.” He smiled as his hand worked the lid. The glimmer
of the oval sapphire centering the silver ring in the box let a hushed gasp out
of his lips. “It’s beautiful.” He slid it on his finger, admiring the detailed
engravings in the silver around the stone. The beauty of the ring almost made
him overlook the chevron bracelet nestled in the upper part of the box, also
blue, with the letter M engraved in silver in the middle. He held the bracelet
and glanced up from the box. “I’ll never take them off.”
She took it from him and helped him put it on his wrist. “Yes, you will,
when you finally confess your love to your mystery girl, and she dumps her
boyfriend to be with you and gives you new jewelry.”
“And we’re not done with that.”
“Not till you tell me who she is.”
I did. You just didn’t listen. “Okay, hear this.” His gaze locked with
hers. “I promise you if I ever tell her, you’ll be the first to know. And I
promise you, I’ll never take these off unless you tell me to. Are we good
now?”
“We were never not good.”
He tucked her hair behind her ear. “Awesome, ‘cause I really need
your help with something.” He got the scripts from the chair. “These are the
finalists from the screenplay contest. I can’t tell you how much I love them
both, but I can only choose one winner, and I need you to help me decide.”
“Me?” She winced. “Don’t you have a jury for this?”
“Yes, and they narrowed the ten thousand scripts we received to five,
and I narrowed them to these two. I’m the final judge, but I can’t bring
myself to decide. Please help.”
“Okay,” she said, hesitant when she grabbed the scripts. “Let’s see.”
Her eyes read the title of the first one, and they glimmered with joy. She
grinned from ear to ear, making funny noises in the back of her throat. But
when she glimpsed at the title of the second script, her eyes darkened, and her
grin turned into an awful grimace.
“What?” he asked, worried.
She barely looked at him. “I’m so sorry.” Her voice was too low, he
almost didn’t hear her. “I think I ruined your contest.”
 Scene 27
Maggie

Dark Hopes by M. C. Nickolas. I stared at the script cover page one

more time, everything in my life spiraling down in one drain of WTF.
“What do you mean you ruined the contest?” Mike chuckled.
“I swear I knew nothing about this. I told them not to…” I stepped
away from him and dropped the scripts back on the chair.
“Knew nothing about what? Is there something particularly wrong with
these scripts? Do you know who wrote these? Is that what it is?”
I pressed my palms to my eyes. “I wrote these.”
“What?” A surprised laugh burst out of his mouth.
“I co-wrote Black Sheep with Raoul, but Dark Hopes is all mine.” I
gulped. “I swear I didn’t submit. My friends must have done it. M. C.
Nickolas, how fucking original! I specifically told them I wouldn’t, and they
went behind my back. I’m so sorry, Mike.”
“Sorry for what?” He grabbed my shoulders, shaking me. “This is…”
My stomach tied in a painful knot. “You have every right to be mad.
I’m gonna kill those fuckers. I told them it’d ruin the integrity of the contest
—”
“What fuckin’ integrity? This is…this is fucking awesome.”
“Wait, what? You’re not mad?”
“Mad?” he asked in disbelief. “I’m gonna kiss your friends…on the
mouth. These scripts are amazing, exactly what I was looking for. And there
was nothing in the rules that said you couldn’t submit.” He laughed again, his
brown eyes sparkling. “I should’ve known it was you. No one could ever
understand me better.” He pressed me to his chest. “I love you so much,
Carolina. So much.”
I shuddered, my heartbeat ringing in my ears. Thank God you’re not
mad, but not the L word, please. Hearing it ignited every spark I’d been
suffocating for months. He didn’t mean it the way I’d been dreaming he’d
mean it one day, and hearing it like this hurt. Burned.
“Do you know what this means?” he asked.
That I fuckin’ won the contest, but the pain of my unrequited love for
you can’t let me be happy for winning. I just stared at him, motionless.
“You won, and we’re gonna work together,” he said, a big smile on his
face.
“You mean Raoul won.” I chewed on a thumbnail. “There’s only one
winner, and I insist you pick Black Sheep.”
“You can’t tell me which to choose. I’m the final judge of this
contest.”
“You asked for my help, and this is my opinion. Black Sheep is the
best fit for you right now.”
“Maggie, if you’re gonna make it in the movie business, you gotta be
an asshole. You can’t give away an opportunity like this.”
“If I’m gonna make it, I’m gonna make it on my own, not by climbing
your shoulders.”
“You’re not… I loved those scripts before knowing they were yours.”
“But now you do, and you want Dark Hopes to win because it’s mine.”
I tapped on the white paper. “You and I both know Black Sheep is the right
choice for the time being.”
“Are you saying that I’m not ready for Dark Hopes?”
I folded my hands across my chest. “Yes.”
“I know you’re lying.”
“Mike, please. I can’t… I don’t want people to say I made my way in
because you’re my friend, or because Andrea is my mother, or any fucking
reason other than I’m good.” I gritted on my thumbnail. “Can I please have
that?”
He held my gaze long enough to break my nerves. “My decision is
final.”
 “Fuck! You fuckin—” I snapped, my hands flying in the air.
His hands squeezed gently around mine. “Hear me out, pazza, before
you explode in my face…or have one of your panic attacks.”
My chest heaved with rage and anxiety and shit.
“Black Sheep will be announced the winner of the contest under your
friend’s name. It’ll be Mondo M’s debut. But I’m buying Dark Hopes, too.
It’ll be Mondo M’s second project, which we’ll shoot after you finish your
debut with Robello. When you’re already in Hollywood.”
My heart jumped against my ribs. “Why didn’t you say so from the
start, asshole?”
“Stop cussing. I’m not finished,” he commanded. “All this will happen
under one condition.”
I swallowed. “What condition?”
“You will be the director for both projects.”
“Motherfucker! You can’t be serious about this.”
“As serious as dick cancer.” Before I could object, he glanced at his
Rolex and said, “I’ll send you the contracts. You’d better find an agent real
soon.” He started for the door.
“What about your partners at Mondo M? They won’t agree to this.”
“They sure will ‘cause you’re not gonna cost them. Besides, I have the
upper hand in my own company. That was the point, remember?”
“Go fuck yourself, Gennaro.” I ran after him. “You can’t do this. I’m
an amateur!”
He twisted, wearing his hard, plastic, celebrity face. “You can’t say
shit like that when someone is offering you a two-movie deal.” Then his face
softened into the loving friend he’d always been. “You’ll learn the ropes in
Robello’s movie. I’ll assign you the best assistant directors and directors of
photography for our movies. You have no excuse.” He smiled. The Mike
Gennaro smile that opened every closed door, sealed all deals, made girls
take off their clothes and kneel. It melted through my stubbornness, clouded
my judgment, ordering me to submit.
 He lifted his chin, his hand on the front doorknob. “Get an agent,
Kiddo.”
“I’m not a fuckin’ Kiddo,” I said under my breath, dazed.
“You’d better get used to it. Directors don’t exactly come in women
your age. It’s what I call you. It’s what Robello called you when he
mentioned you this morning. The Kid. It’s your name in the industry now.”
I punched his shoulders with my fists. “Fuck you, and Robello, and the
industry.”
He coughed out a laugh. “Easy, Kiddo.”
I screamed. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t,” he replied, shaking with laughter.
Damn right, I don’t.
“I’ll send you a list of trusted managers and agents to contact. And
when Robello calls you, act surprised, but be ready.”
I blew out a troubled breath. “And I won’t tell Raoul until the results
are officially posted.”
He nodded and pressed his lips to my temple. “Congratulations again,
vita mia.”
A shiver ran through my body as I felt his breath on my face. “Thank
you.”
“I should be thanking you. You’re a wonderful artist.” He turned the
knob. “We’re gonna be a great couple.”
With these words he left, leaving me staring at the door in awe. Mike
no longer had an effect on me. He had me in a trance. And it fucking hurt.
Saying things like I love you so much and our movies and vita mia and a
great couple was simply painful.
I bowed my head, forcing myself to snap out of it, allowing my brain
to grasp the facts his visit had brought to my attention.
A producer liked my work and wanted me to direct his movie.
Mike loved both my scripts, offered to buy them, provided I’d direct
them.
Mike was in love with a girl he couldn’t have.
I was beyond doubt in love with Mike Gennaro.
Fuck.
 Scene 28
Maggie

I felt the texture of the leather on me one more time, admiring every
detail of my image in the standalone mirror. The new blonde highlights in my
short hair, the perfect shade of red on my lips, the charcoal eyeliner, the
cherry blossom bracelet, and the ankle boots, all blended to complement
Mike’s gorgeous birthday gift.
“You look so beautiful,” Kyle whispered, wrapping his arms around
my waist.
His velvet blazer and the collar of his white sweater appeared behind
me. I smiled at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was cut short and left
longer on top. It fell forward when he moved to kiss my bare shoulder.
“Happy birthday, my love.”
“Thank you. You look good, too.” I couldn’t say it back anymore, not
even today. The past three weeks hadn’t been easy on me. I’d spent most of
my time either on set or behind the horrible door, torn between my feelings
for the man I could never have and those for the man who could never
understand me.
Since that Christmas dinner with my parents—especially after Mike’s
latest visit—Kyle and I had seemed to grow apart by the day, and that part of
me that loved him still wasn’t enough to make our relationship work. I’d
given up on passion to be with someone as decent and stable as Kyle. To find
peace. But when understanding and harmony left the equation as well, what
peace or stability could come out of it?
I twirled and gazed into his deep, blue eyes. “Kyle… Um…”
“Before you say anything, I know we’ve been fighting more than usual
lately, and I haven’t been exactly the best boyfriend.” He swallowed. “So I’m
sorry for any stress I’ve caused you, and I promise I’ll make it up to you. I
love you, Maggie, and I want nothing but to make you happy.”
Shit. “Well, what can I say after that?” My lips stretched with a smile.
“Okay. I’m ready to go if you are.”
He patted his blazer pocket and smiled nervously before he offered me
his arm. I linked arms with him, and grabbed my silver clutch on the way out.
In the car, he reached for the backseat. “These are for you.” He handed
me a bunch of red roses tied together with a white, satin ribbon.
I never liked flowers. They were beautiful, of course, but they could
only make me happy for a very short time and then die. A constant reminder
that happiness was short and would never last. “Thanks,” I said, not knowing
what else to say without sounding like an ungrateful bitch.
I checked my phone for the hundredth time, looking for a message
from Mike in vain, Kyle’s breathing louder than usual in the background. I
glanced up from the phone. “You all right?”
“Yeah.” He patted his pocket again.
“Did you take care of the security arrangements?”
“For the tenth time, yes.” He chuckled. “Honey, relax. I know you’re a
hotshot celebrity now and everything, but this is getting crazy.”
“Please.” I snorted. “I’m in the middle of making my first picture.
Nobody knows who I am yet. These arrangements are for Mike…and the
talents in my movie.”
“I see.” He forced a smile. “Well, the hotel has a private entrance. We
have the club all to ourselves, and I’ve already told them we’re expecting
celebrities. The security company assured me the team I hired is experienced
in celebrity parties. No strangers or paparazzi allowed under any
circumstances.”
“Great.” I touched his leg. “Thank you so much for putting this party
together. You should, at least, let me pay for this whole thing. I’m a paid
artist now.”
“Shhhh! What kind of boyfriend lets his girl pay for anything, let alone
her birthday party?” He interlaced his fingers with mine and lifted my hand to
his mouth. “It’s nothing, Mags. I really hope you have a good time tonight.”
“I’m sure I will. Can’t say the same for you, though. I know how much
you hate big parties.”
 “As long as you’re with me, I’m happy.”
When they arrived at the hotel, he opened the door for me, took me by
the hand and headed toward a private entrance, where two guards were
waiting. They escorted us into an elevator that took us to the upper deck. The
music from the club pounded against the walls as we marched to the entrance
door. Another couple of security personnel in black suits—bulgy and taller
than Kyle—stood at attention by the thick door, holding what I presumed
were guest lists.
For the first time ever, I felt like a real hotshot celebrity, and it was
more than satisfying.
“Ms. Dawson.” The guard examined my face, and then Kyle’s. “Mr.
Burley.” The other guard marked his list as he opened the door.
Looking around the packed nightclub, I smiled, Kyle’s hand on my
back. Successive shouts of “She’s here!” filled the place, and then the music
stopped.
Chester Monroe, the lead in my movie, stood on the stage and pointed
in my direction. “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the birthday girl, the
talented MS. MAGGIE DAWSON.”
A spotlight flared on me, and then glittery confetti poured. I waved,
laughing as the crowd blew their birthday whistles and broke into loud
cheers. The music blasted again. In no time, Kyle and I were circled by
friendly faces, movie crew and beautiful evening gowns. Compliments rained
down on both of us. My dress… My hair… My date. Yet the face I yearned
to see was not there.
“Happy birthday, Maggie.” Samantha, my manager, approached in a
salmon dress. “This party is magnificent.” She flashed her teeth at Kyle, her
bright green eyes flicking up to him. “And so is your date. Way to go, girl.”
Kyle cleared his throat and returned a shy smile.
“Thanks, I guess.” The woman has known me for two weeks and she’s
already flirting with my boyfriend and calling me girl. “This is Kyle Burley,
my boyfriend, the man of the hour, who made this party possible.” I
motioned at Samantha. “Samantha DeVries, my new manager.”
“Pleased to finally meet you,” Kyle said. “Maggie told me great things
about your partnership.”
As they continued their small talk and fake compliments, I glimpsed
Dad’s face four tables ahead. I waved at him, and he rose from the table,
coming in my direction. If Dad is here, this means… My jaw tightened as my
stare landed on the hazel eyes that had always taunted me.
“You invited Andrea?” I asked between my teeth, my stomach flipping
with anger.
Kyle leaned closer. “What?” he yelled over the music.
I glared at him. “Samantha, please excuse me for a second.”
“Sure.” The tall blonde stepped back.
“Maggie, wait.” Kyle’s voice trailed behind me as I made a beeline to
my parents.
Dad grinned, his arms wide open. “Happy birthday, great director. I’m
so proud of you.”
I hugged him briefly. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Happy birthday,” Andrea said, a glass of champagne in her hand, a
sickening smirk on her lips. The words sounded like a tease, as if she were
saying: I knew you didn’t want me here, and that was why I came.
I eyed her without blinking. “Thanks.”
“You’re still showing those thighs.” Andrea took a sip from her glass.
“I admire your confidence.”
Dad sighed while I snickered as I noticed Andrea’s cleavage. The
green dress showed an incredibly daring amount of skin. “And I admire
your…failure to dress for your age.”
He frowned. “Maggie, come on.”
“Seriously, Dad? Why’s she even here?”
“Your mother was thrilled to receive your invitation,” Dad said.
I looked back at Andrea. “Oh, it wasn’t from me. I think you already
know that.”
“I do.” Andrea smirked again, her eyes on approaching Kyle. “The
invitation was from my soon-to-be son.”
I huffed, my blood boiling. I opened my mouth to speak, but Kyle
greeted my parents with enthusiastic handshakes.
Andrea held her hands up to Kyle’s face, and he bent for her to kiss his
cheeks. “You look ravishing.”
“You too, Mrs. Dawson.”
“Oh, please call me Mom.”
I rolled my eyes to Dad, chewing on my fingernail. Dad squeezed my
hand gently. “Kyle called and told us he had a surprise for you, and he’d love
it if we were there. But it’s your party, baby. If you want us to leave, we’ll
go,” he whispered in my ear.
“Of course not.” I gave him another hug. “Thank you so much for
coming.” I narrowed my eyes at Kyle. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna
go greet my guests.”
Kyle slipped his arm through mine. “Maggie—”
“Not now, Kyle.” I jerked my arm away from his and weaved my way
through the crowd of gyrating people.
I sped to the bar where I spotted Amanda and Raoul. “Guys.”
Amanda turned, her sequined dress shimmering under the lights.
“Maggie,” she squeaked, her arms already squeezing me. “Looking good,
girl. Happy birthday.”
“Thanks. Another gift from Milan.” I motioned for Raoul to get me a
drink, too.
Amanda’s jaw dropped. “Fuck. I’m so jealous of you right now.”
I barely smiled as Raoul arrived with our drinks.
“Where’s Gennaro?” he asked casually, as if he had known the man for
years.
“Gennaro? You’ve seen the guy once, for two minutes, and you’re
BFFs now?” I taunted.
“We connected immediately. He said he loved my work, and we shook
hands. If that’s not friendship, I don’t know what is.”
I couldn’t find my sense of humor, yet Amanda broke into a laugh,
spilling vodka on the floor. He glared at us for a second, and then he joined
the laughter.
I opened my clutch to check my phone. The clock on the screen
showed it was 10:06. No messages, still.
“Don’t fret. He’s coming,” Amanda said.
Wrapping my tongue around the straw, I shrugged.
Raoul munched on an olive after he drained his glass. “Well, Bailey is
here, checking with the security guys every ten seconds, so he must be
coming.”
I scanned the faces until I found the blond head of James Bailey. He
was in a dark suit, talking on the phone and nodding at one of the circulating
security guards. A warm feeling of certainty washed over me. “You’re right.”
Mike wouldn’t miss my birthday for the world.
Amanda’s elbow nudged me in the ribs. “Kyle is coming.”
My gaze followed him as he set out toward me through the crowd.
“So?”
A wry smile crossed Amanda’s glossy lips. “So be nice. Tonight is
about you and him. Only you and him.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re more concerned about Mike showing up rather than
appreciating your gorgeous boyfriend who busted his ass to arrange all this
for you.”
I winced. “He invited my mother.”
“Shit. Are you fighting? Trust me, you don’t want to be fighting
tonight.” She turned before I got a chance to ask her what she meant. “Hey,
Kyle. This party is over the top. Maggie’s been waiting for you to dance with
her.” Her eyes evaded my glare and stared at Raoul. “We’re going to dance,
too.”
Raoul patted Kyle’s shoulder and winked at me before he danced his
way with Amanda to the bouncing bodies.
What the fuck is going on with everybody tonight? I glanced sideways
to see Kyle’s hand held out, asking me to dance. I sighed, my eyes traveling
up to meet his. “I’m mad at you.”
“I’m sorry.” He pulled me to him and kissed me. “Still mad?”
“Yes.”
He kissed me again, this time his tongue was active. “And now?” He
grinned, instinctively wiping lipstick off his lips with his thumb. “Please, say
yes, so I can do this all night.”
Thank God I chose to wear one of those super stay lipsticks tonight. I
finally took his hand. Ruined or not, this was my birthday party after all. It’d
be a shame, if I let it go to waste. “Let’s dance.”
 Scene 29
Mike

Mike sat on the plane, his chair reclined and a drink untouched before
him. He watched the ice shrink in the glass, counting the seconds until he’d
see Maggie again. He’d already shaved, showered, and dressed for the party.
A black, velvet blazer, a beige polo shirt, selvedge denim jeans, and
Maggie’s recent gifts for accessories. All so he could go straight to her after
he landed.
Fifteen minutes later, he was escorted in a black SUV to the party. The
instant he went inside the club, he was mobbed. In the dizzying whirl that
should have been life and breath to him, Mike plastered his industry smile as
he searched for Maggie’s face.
James shoved his way through the crowd and led Mike, with the help of a
security guard, to his reserved table.
“Where’s Maggie?” Mike yelled over the music.
“She was dancing a few minutes ago.” James turned his head right and
left, looking. “Uh…maybe the ladies’ room.”
Two flustered girls stopped at the table and asked Mike for his autograph.
He momentarily slipped into his people-pleasing mode and signed their
papers. When he lifted his eyes, Andrea was coming his way.
Since when is Andrea invited to Maggie’s birthdays? He stood, his jaws
tight, and held out his hand, hoping she’d take the hint and wouldn’t hug or
kiss him.
She slapped his hand away, gave him a hug, and kissed him on both
cheeks. If they weren’t in public, he’d push her off him and tell her never to
touch him again, but he wouldn’t want to make a scene. “You’re still fired,”
he whispered in her ear.
With her teeth flashed, she greeted James, as if Mike had said nothing,
and took a seat.
 “I’m gonna grab some drinks. Do you want something?” James asked.
“Sure,” Mike answered, eyeing the almost empty glass in Andrea’s hand.
“Want a refill?”
“Yes, please, but something stronger than this cheap champagne.”
When James excused himself, Mike glanced at her. “Crashing the party?”
Her lips curved up. “I was invited just like you.” She flipped her hair and
leaned back. “I’m surprised to see you here, though. Last Resort still has a
good week to wrap.”
“I’d do anything to make Maggie happy. If she wants me at her birthday
party, I’ll be at her birthday party.”
She pursed her lips. “You’ll also call her talented, waste your money on
her ridiculous scripts, and destroy your career by starring in her shitty
movies, just to make her happy?”
“You are one fuckin’ spiteful bitch.” He leaned forward. “Maggie’s the
most beautiful and talented person I’ve ever seen. I bought her scripts
because I loved them even before I knew they were hers.”
“Yeah. Whatever makes you sleep better at night.”
He shook his head incredulously. “Speaking of the most beautiful and
talented girl in the world, where’s she? I’d like to wish her a happy birthday.”
She downed her glass and pointed at the door leading to the outside deck.
“Out there with Kyle.”
He rose. “Excuse me.”
“I wouldn’t go there if I were you. You wouldn’t want to interrupt
someone’s proposal.”
 Scene 30
Maggie

I held myself, rubbing my arms, looking across the horizon of

twinkling stars and L.A. city lights. “I know you have a surprise for me, but
it’s cold out here. Can we take it inside?”
Kyle laughed under his breath, taking off his blazer. Then he placed it
on my shoulders. “How do you know about the surprise?”
I adjusted it around me, warmth wrapping me already. “Dad told me.
That’s why you’re slightly forgiven for inviting Andrea.”
He laughed again, his hands nervously looking for his pockets.
My mind ran on automatic, registering every piece of information I’d
been given subtly. He’d been nervous all night, now more than ever. He had a
surprise for me that involved both my parents. He’d been checking his pocket
every…
No!
I gulped, my knees weak, my hands squeezing the ice-cold railing for
support.
Kyle started his speech, but I couldn’t hear the words, the noise in my
head too loud. Breathing seemed to be the hardest task in the world. I began
to shiver, sweat trickling down my back. He must have noticed because he
came close and folded his arms around me. I still couldn’t hear what he was
saying, but I could hear both our hearts pounding dangerously.
He held my face between his hands, the night lights in his eyes. “I love
you, Maggie, more than anything.” His lips touched mine. They were cold,
too, like everything else at the moment. Like everything we’d had in the past
three weeks. He inserted one hand inside the blazer on me and came out with
a small velvet box.
I could feel the blood slipping away from my face, tears clouding my
vision. Kyle’s knee found the floor, and my heart found it, too.
 As he opened the box, the dazzling sparkle of the very expensive rock
on the ring blinded me. He swallowed hard and smiled. “Maggie Carolina
Dawson, will you make me the happiest man in the world…and marry me?”
 Scene 31
Mike

Mike felt something twitch inside him, something intense, something

that sent him spiraling.
A victorious smirk covered Andrea’s face as she tapped him on the
shoulder and strutted away. She was enjoying this.
He spun around and stared through the dark glass until he found
Maggie and the asshole who was about to steal her from him for good.
Except Maggie was never his, and he’d never told her he wanted nothing
more than to be hers.
This can’t happen. I have to tell her.
He stalked forward as Kyle went down on one knee, ignoring
everything that once mattered, ready to unleash hell. A fist grabbing his arm
made him flinch and stop midway.
“Where are you going?” James’s voice interrupted the madness
coursing through him.
Mike just stared at him.
“Are you…crying?” James asked, taken aback. “What happened?” His
eyes darted around. He must be checking if someone could see or hear them.
Mike touched his eyes. Shit. He was crying. “He’s marrying her. I have
to…”
“Who…? You know what? Whatever it is, no one can see.” He pulled
Mike’s arm, dragging him away to a darker spot.
“I don’t care. Let me go.” Mike cast another look at Maggie. “I have to
let her know.” He stared at his manager. “Everyone has to know.”
James glanced through the glass. “No, Mike. You can’t do this. Look
at me. Don’t screw this up, for her sake. No one can know. Not like this.”
 “I can’t just watch,” Mike hissed, his chest heaving.
“C’mon, man, get a grip. People are starting to notice.”
Fighting for control, Mike hid his eyes with his hand. All his years of
experience didn’t know how to stop the tears. All the faces he had learned to
wear failed to mask real pain.
“Think, Mike. If you go out there now, it’s going to be a scandal, for
her before it’s for you. Look around you. The people from her movie are
here. Her first gig. Do you want this for her?”
Mike stepped back, trying to compose himself. A flicker of sanity
burned its way into his mind. This, right here, was his worst nightmare.
Hurting Maggie. Telling her how he felt now or at any given time meant
hurting her. And not just because it was going to be a scandal. “Fuck. I’m
just… You’re right. You’re fucking right. I’m gonna ruin everything for her.”
He pushed his hair off his face with one hand, the other wiping away the last
of his tears. “I can’t… I…I’m gonna go.”
“You can’t go now. What will she think when she knows you came
and didn’t even say hi?”
“Tell her anything. I can’t just look her in the eye and say
congratulations.” He winced, reaching for the inside pocket of his jacket.
“Here.” He placed a jewelry box in James’s hand. “It’s her birthday gift. Give
it to her on my behalf.”
The glass door opened and Maggie faltered inside.
“Too late now,” James mumbled. “Get it together, Mickey.”
Mike’s heart, ripped to shreds, skipped a beat. His gaze followed her as
people surrounded her. They must have been dying to know if she had said
yes. They must have been admiring her ring by now, secretly envying
everything about her and her fiancé. Where the fuck is he anyway? Why
didn’t he come inside with her?
He peered back through the glass, and he could see Kyle from behind,
hunched over the railing.
“She’s coming your way,” James said.
 Mike jerked his head toward her. Piece by piece, he traced every detail
about her as she approached, the burning in his heart growing by each step
she took. Her new hair color gave her a beautiful glow. The dress couldn’t fit
anyone else better. Her simple makeup must have been perfect before tears
smudged her cheeks—tears of joy, of course.
As she faced him, he froze, unable to bring himself to say anything.
Whatever strength he had left was dedicated to prevent his eyes from crying.
“Mike,” she whispered.
He looked down, feeling weaker. “Happy birthday…and
congratulations,” he finally said, wondering how convincing he sounded. His
gaze wandered over her finger and stilled.
His heart skipped another beat.
No ring.
When he stared up at her, she whispered again, “Get me out of here.”
 Scene 32
Maggie

It was Tony’s Christmas party all over again. The same panic. The
same guilt. The same guy to run away to. The same reason.
Mike.
The man who had never, not once, patronized or degraded my
thoughts, opinions, dreams or crazy whims. The only man that made me feel
worthy and loved. The only person I could be myself with and not feel guilty
about it. The man I loved more than anyone else.
We were in the backseat of some car that I didn’t know how I got in, or
how long it’d been roaming the streets of L.A., and he hadn’t said a word
since we left. He just stared back at me. Waiting.
I glanced at the paper bag in my hand with no recollection of how it
wound up there. “Did I have a panic attack?”
“Yes,” he answered.
I took a long breath. “You don’t happen to have a party going at your
place now, do ya?”
He shook his head.
“Too bad.” I bowed my head, self-loathing spreading through my heart
and mind. “I could really use a joint right now. Not a good time to stay
sober.”
“How about a party for two then?”
You and me. Alone. Getting wasted. Danger. Catastrophe. “Sounds
good.”
He leaned forward, holding the back of the driver’s seat. “Jason, take
us to Bel Air, please.”
“Yes, Mr. Gennaro.”
 “Your house?” I inquired. “Why not the AKA?”
His jaw flexed. “We kinda ran away together in front of a hundred
people after you turned down your boyfriend’s marriage proposal. I’m
guessing there will be paps at the AKA.”
My head spun. “Oh my God… Fuck… I’m so sorry, Mike.”
“Hey.” He held my hand. “I don’t care about any of this shit.”
My free hand checked my phone. “Oh God. Forty-seven messages.
You?”
He got his phone out of his pocket to check. “Um…fifty-two.”
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK.”
He squeezed my hand, laughing. “C’mon. It’s gonna be fine.”
“How? Everything is ruined. I ruined everything. Now they’re gonna
say I’m the girl you’re…”
“In love with?” He finished my words. “And you finally left your
boyfriend for me?”
“Mike, please. This is a disaster. How’s that not bothering you?”
“What kinda man would be bothered if you left your boyfriend for
him?”
“For fuck’s sake, this isn’t a joke. They’re gonna say I did it for the
movies.”
He stared at me for a moment. “That’s what you care about?”
“Yes!” I looked down. It’s the only part that’s not true.
The car turned and slowed down. Mike glanced at the window. “We’re
here.” The window rolled down a little, and he showed his face to the
gateway security and collected a key. Jason pulled over at the mansion front
entrance, and opened the door for Mike, who offered me his hand, and I took
it.
“I haven’t come here in a very long time.” Mike turned the key in.
“More than two years.” He placed his hand on the small of my back and let
me inside.
 As he turned on the lights, I noticed nothing had changed since the last
time I was here. Cream porcelain tiles. Double height ceilings. Floor-to-
ceiling windows. Enormous staircase. Open living and dining rooms dressed
in well-matched shades of brown and blue.
“Four years for me. I came to see Uncle Frank after he got sick.” My
hands wrapped around his arm. “He was a wonderful man, your father. So
kind and funny. I’m so sorry he passed.”
“You and me both, Kiddo.”
I unlinked my hands from him and stepped back, the word Kiddo
disturbing me more than usual. My face must have shown my irritation
because Mike turned to me with concern in his eyes.
“What?” he asked.
“Is that the way you’re gonna see me forever? A kid?”
He chuckled. “It’s just a word, Carolina.”
“Is it?”
His humor was gone when his gaze, suddenly, bore into me. “It’s more
of a reminder.” Then he turned away and headed for the staircase. “Weed
stash is up there.”
I nodded, confused as fuck. “I’ll get the booze.”
“Bene,” he said, his feet eating up the stairs.
Awful flashes of tonight accompanied me to the kitchen. The look on
Kyle’s face when I refused him. How he tried to hold his tears. How he held
my hand for the last time before I ran inside. They would haunt me for the
rest of my life. Blubbering, I opened and slammed more cabinets than
necessary for finding a couple of glasses.
 Scene 33
Mike

Lying on the floor, jacket and shoes off, Mike exhaled the last of his
joint. Maggie’s head rested on the couch behind her, her feet stretched on the
floor.
She let out a shuddering groan. “I’m a terrible…terrible person.”
“No, you’re not,” he said.
“Yes, I am.” Her voice cracked. “But I swear to God, I tried. I did
everything to make it work.”
“I know you don’t wanna hear this, but it was never going to work. He
wasn’t right for you.”
“I should’ve broken up with him earlier, though. Before all this.”
“Why didn’t you?”
She shook her head, like she was disagreeing with what she wanted to
say.
“Talk to me, Carolina.”
“Well, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m terrified of making decisions
unless the situation is irreversible and…I’m also terrified of being alone. I’d
rather have the illusion that I could still make it work or wait for him to break
up with me than to do it myself. I know it’s awful. I’m awful.”
“You’re not awful. Stop saying that about yourself. All this is…”
Courtesy of Andrea. Mike’s heart burned, scorching from the inside out, as he
pondered how that awful woman had managed to spread her toxicity onto
Maggie like that.
A trail of blue smoke came out of her lips. “You know even after I said
no, he asked me if there was any chance I was gonna say yes later. He said he
could wait till I was ready.” A tear dropped onto the back of her hand.
“Are you ever gonna be ready for this? With anyone?”
 Her eyes rolled up to him. “I can’t believe you right now. You think
this was a Maggie Moment?”
“A Maggie Moment?”
“That fuckin’ moment when I realize this was never what I wanted to
do. When I’m afraid to commit. When I falter and hesitate and turn my life
upside down, then disappoint everybody I know.”
He scratched his forehead. “Uh…it wasn’t?”
“Fuck no.” She scrambled to her feet. “You know what? I’m going for
a walk.” Stumbling on her boots on the way, she grumbled.
“Wait.” He got off the floor and grabbed both their shoes and his
jacket. “I’m coming with.”
He made her put on her ankle boots, draped the jacket on her
shoulders, and stayed one step behind as she staggered down into the garden.
He fought the urge to spin her around and tell her how he couldn’t stand to
hear another word about her ex-boyfriend, how glad he was she wasn’t gonna
marry someone else, and if it weren’t for the comment she’d made about the
movies, he’d be confessing his love to her right now.
She stopped before an oak tree for a few moments, and then she turned
to face him. “I need to tell you something.”
“Sure,” he said.
She murdered one of her fingernails. “But you should know I don’t
expect you to say or do anything in return.”
He smiled. “In return?”
“I didn’t say no to Kyle because I panicked or hesitated. And not just
because he wasn’t right for me. I did it because…I’m in love with someone
else.”
His smile vanished. “Che cazzo? No. No! I can’t… I don’t wanna hear
this.” Had he hidden his feelings from her that well that she couldn’t feel him
at all? Now she was going to blurt out about another fucker?
Bellowing screams raptured inside him. Yes, he had, and he’d waited
too long—for reasons that didn’t seem to matter anymore when he almost
lost her to another man tonight. He had no right to feel like this, but he did.
And it hurt like hell, now he’d lost her all over again.
“Yes, you do,” she said.
He brought his hand to his chin, scratching it until it hurt. “No,
Maggie, enough. I will not just stand and listen to this shit again. I—”
“Shut up and listen!” She drew a breath from the joint in her hand,
looking him straight in the eye, taking a step forward. “I’m in love with you.”
He froze. Every muscle. Even his heart seemed to have ceased beating.
She took another step toward him. “Like I said, I don’t expect you to
say or do anything. I just needed to say it out loud.” Her lips sucked on the
last of the joint before she threw it away. “God, it felt so good to finally say
it.”
He staggered in place, a sinking feeling in his stomach. “What do you
mean finally?”
“I mean…I have been…in love with you for a while now.” A sheepish
smile drew on her face.
Slowly, he raised his eyebrows, cursing himself to hell and beyond in
his mind for being such a cowardly idiot. “Why?”
Her lips parted and let out a short sigh.
“Why, Maggie?” he shouted.
“Why what?! Why am I in love with you?” She shook her head. “I
don’t know why. All I know is that for once in my life, I’m hundred percent
sure about something. I’m not confused or anxious anymore. There’s no
room for maybes or what ifs. I just know.”
He moved closer, holding his eyes on her. The past eight years of
WHAT THE FUCK opened a deep crack that ran to his bones.
“I’m sorry. I know the position this puts you in. I mean after tonight,
and we’re gonna work together, and the fucking tabloids.” She threw her
hand in the air. “I know it’s wrong, but I just don’t care if it’s right or wrong
anymore.” She cursed. “Obviously, you’re upset, so I’m sorry. But that’s the
only thing I’m sorry for. I’m not going to apologize for being in love with
you because I’ve never—”
 “Why, Maggie?” he interrupted, his voice coming out scratchy. “Why
haven’t you told me this before?”
She blinked. “What difference does it make?”
The air felt too heavy in his chest. “You could’ve saved us a lot of
time.”
It was a long moment before she spoke. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.” He loved her. He fucking loved her. All the
boundaries that stopped him from telling her how he felt, that condemned
their love before it started, wouldn’t have mattered if he’d known she loved
him, too. He’d have destroyed his career, spent every dime of his fortune and
killed every person who dared stand in their way to be with her.
Her soft eyes became scrutinizing. “No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do. You know exactly what I mean.” His lips shivered into a
smile. “I’ve said it a thousand times before, but you never heard it. Now, I
don’t need to say it for you to hear it.”
She said nothing for some time, leading to an uneasy silence.
“Impossible.”
“It’s more than possible. And for a long time, too.” He took her
shoulders in his hands. “Remember when I said if I ever told her you’d be the
first to know?” His breath trembled in his chest. “Now you know, Maggie.
Now you know.”
 Scene 34
Maggie

My feet wobbled, and I almost fell down. Swiftly, Mike’s arms held
me and prevented the fall. “I need to sit down. I think I’m gonna pass out.”
He helped me down and perched next to me. “You okay?” he asked
with worry.
I stared at him for a few seconds. “No.”
“Should I get you some water? Call a doctor?”
I shook my head. “Just hold me.”
His tender smile folded me before his arms. I exhaled a long sigh as I
felt his heartbeat banging in his chest. It reminded me of the time when he
asked me to go to Japan with him; his heart was racing just like now. I gasped
as my mind leafed through all the signals I’d missed. That moment in the
limo when he was warm all of a sudden, and what he said when I told him
what Kyle thought. That dinner when he thought I was hot and didn’t tell me.
That kiss on the neck. Oh God.
I drew back, wondering if it was just my mind playing tricks on me.
“You’re not lying to me, are you?”
His eyes tightened as he held my hand and placed it on his heart. “You
tell me.”
Just like I was certain of my feelings for the first time in my life, the
way his heart was beating and the look in his eyes left me doubtless. Each of
us had spent so long struggling to hide our love, bottling it up, and all the
while, not knowing that the other person was doing the exact same thing.
“I’m so stupid. So fucking stupid.” I said. “How is this possible? Not
feeling each other?”
“I have no idea. For me, I guess, my love for you is just too much.
There’s barely any room to feel anything else.”
 “Why haven’t you told me?”
“I tried, but I always backed down at the last minute. I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Hurting you. Losing you.” His voice became lower at the end. “I
thought you’d think of me differently. You’d misinterpret my intentions.” He
moaned. “I was scared, Maggie.”
I smoothed a strand of his dark hair. “And now? You’re still scared?”
“To death.”
“Is this why you haven’t kissed me yet?”
His eyes flickered down to my lips as he nodded.
I leaned into him. “Don’t be.”
“But if I kiss you, this is gonna be real. There’s no turning back,” he
said, staring at my lips. “Do you understand me, Carolina? You have to be
absolutely sure about this. Please be sure about this.”
“What have I just told you? This is the only thing I’m sure about. Do
you want this to be real?”
“Yes.” I heard the assertiveness in his voice. “More than anything.”
“Then shut the fuck up and kiss me.”
He leaned toward me, our faces drawing closer, and his lips touched
mine with no more hesitation. I closed my eyes and let the outside world
fade. The thousand reasons why I shouldn’t be doing this retreated to the
back of my head.
As our lips softly moved together, I knew that every heartbreak, every
misstep, every tear shed had been worth it for this moment. A strange tingling
spread through me as he took my breath away with his kiss. I felt something
I’d never had before, not with Kyle, not with anyone. Something deep. Wild.
Overpowering.
The one thing that had been missing.
Suddenly, happiness seemed possible.
When I pulled back to take a breath, his eyes were closed. Slowly, he
opened them. “Do you know what I want right now?”
“Yeah.” I stared at his swollen lips. “You wanna kiss me again.”
He grinned. “Yes…but then I wanna hold you and never let go.”
I wet my lips. “Do you know what I want right now?” I whispered,
willing him to understand.
Puzzled for a second, he gazed at me. Then he swallowed. “Really?”
I nodded.
He blew out a long breath, his eyes narrowing with a wicked gleam.
“Right now?”
I chewed my bottom lip on a shy smile. “Yes.”
Getting to his feet, he squared his shoulders, and then he scooped me
off the ground.
I stifled a yelp as he started back to the house. “Mike, put me down.”
“Not a chance.”
My hands clasped behind his neck. “C’mon. It’s a long way inside. I’m
too heavy.”
“Heavy…? Shut up.”
My giggles broke the night quietness. I watched him as we took the
elevator to the top story where his room was. He was watching me, too, with
a look in his eyes that said a million things at once, and they were all
beautiful. I wondered if he felt the same way as I did lying like this in his
arms. It wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable as I imagined it would be; it was
rather familiar in a very good way.
His hand turned the knob, and he pushed the door open with his back.
He flipped on the lights and sat me down on the beige and burgundy striped
duvet that covered the king-size canopy bed. As he turned to shut the door, I
ogled his ass, chewing a fingernail, cursing in my head. My heart throbbed
with each of his footsteps echoing back toward me on the mahogany wooden
floor.
I stood and met him half-way, steadying my breath, butterflies in my
stomach. He must have been nervous, too; there was no one in the house, yet
he had to shut the door, and now he was rubbing his forehead, unable to even
hold my gaze.
“It’s gonna take me some time to get used to this,” he said.
I relished the details of his mouth. My tongue, reflexively, licked
across my lips. “Get used to what?”
“Looking at you for more than seven seconds.”
I dragged my gaze to his eyes, and they were smoldering. “Why
seven?”
“’Cause I’ll start looking at your lips, at that tiny dimple that kept me
awake at night, then your body, and then this will happen.” His hand fell to
my lower back, softly pulling, ushering me toward him.
A gasp flew out of my chest as the firmness down the front of his pants
pressed against me in the right spot. Unlike Kyle’s, Mike’s height was perfect
for my stature.
With his hand planted on the back of my neck, he pulled me hard into
his kiss. I sank into his arms, my knees buckling, my body supported by his
grip. I’d just kissed him a few minutes ago, but this was a different
experience.
There should be laws against men who could kiss like that.
My lips parted for breath, and he listened, his lips coming immediately
after. The second kiss hungrier and more urgent. His hand on my neck
yielded, less of a grip and more of a caress, his other hand pinning me to his
body.
I grew greedy, my tongue meeting his, and he let me lead. This was so
easy, so right. Why the hell had everyone and everything else in our lives told
us otherwise? My mouth never craved a man’s lips more, and I knew that
every inch of my body felt the same.
My hands slid underneath his shirt… Oh God. His skin was hard and
burning, sending jolts of heat and desire down my core. He worked the shirt
off him fast, giving me the perfect view. His chest. His abs. The sexy, V-
shaped lines where his lower abs met his hips. My nipples grew hard as I
gawked at the naked perfection before me. “Fuck. They didn’t draw these on
you in the movies. You’re real-life hot.”
Without letting go, he moved forward, pushing me gently toward the
edge of the bed. “You’re hotter.”
He kneeled, his eyes never leaving mine. Then he unzipped my first
ankle boot and took it off, his stare promising pleasure. He bent and held my
toe between his teeth. When he sucked deep and then slowly pulled away, my
toe felt a thousand things my pussy desired. He worked off the second boot,
and did the same with my other foot, sending more juices between my thighs.
His hands slid up my legs, and my skin broke out in goosebumps. He
moved his fingertips slowly, teasingly, from my knees up, pushing the hem of
my dress up higher to my hipbone. My legs parted, and he looked. A
shivering moan danced out of his mouth as he slipped beneath the soaked
lace of my underwear. “Fuck, Carolina. Come sei bagnata.”
“Yes. I don’t think I’ve ever been that wet before.”
His thumb found my clit and moved in circles. Then his finger—no,
two— dipped down into my wetness and pushed inside me, building a heavy
ache between my legs. I pushed into him, wanting more. “Good God, Mike,”
I gasped.
“Yes,” he whispered, yanking at my underwear until it was off. I
watched his mouth come closer, his eyes fixed on my pussy. He inhaled me
and swore, my low groan joining his curse. The look that crossed over his
face, the way his eyes closed at the way I smelled made me spread my legs
wider.
Then he tasted me. Fuck. I clenched hard. With his tongue now
swirling and his fingers thrusting in and out of, my breath snagged and then
came out shakily, my fists digging in the softness of the bed covers.
I heard the unbuckling of his belt, his expert tongue unleashing a
custom-made fire inside me. “Don’t do it now. I’m about to come,” I said
between breaths.
“I won’t. Gonna come with you.” His mouth continued fucking me.
The combination of his voice saying those words, his fingers, and his tongue
almost made me fall to pieces.
“Oh, fuck. I can feel you. Don’t fight it.” He slipped a third finger
inside me, his shoulders rocking from jerking off, and I screamed.
“Yes, Maggie, scream for me. Vieni per me.” With this, telling me to
come for him, he stretched me to the blissful edge of pain. My head fell back,
my hands tangling in his curls as I let out successive sharp moans, climaxing
over his hand.
“Cazzo,” he groaned repeatedly, his breath catching, and then gasped
my name with the final shudders of his own orgasm.
Grinning, I smoothed my dress down and lowered my gaze to his in a
daze. This must have been a dream, coming for Mike, Mike coming for me,
whispering my name as he did. This only happened in my forbidden wet
dreams, not in real life.
But he was here, looking back at me, sweating, panting, his eyes on my
mouth for a long moment. “Now that that’s out of the way, we can make love
all night.”
 Scene 35
Maggie

With Mike still kneeling in front of me, I sat, panting, as his lips
traveled from mine down to my chin, my throat, my collarbone. “Do you
have to smell this fuckin’ good all the time?” I asked, my sighs loud, my
hands fondling his back down to his narrow hips.
“It’s nothing compared to yours. Been driving me insane.” His mouth
glided up to my ear. “And now that I smelled your pussy…” He bit my
earlobe, and his groan made me shudder.
I bent my head to his shoulder, my mouth kissing, licking, biting, and
tasting his skin. Yummy. Even his sweat tasted sweet.
“I wanna see you,” he murmured, his breath tickling the space behind
my ear, his hands pulling on the front of my dress. “I’ve been dying to rip
this off you all night.”
My throat suddenly was too dry. Would he like me as much when he
saw me fully naked? He had to know I wouldn’t—couldn’t—stack up against
the models and movie stars he was used to.
He ripped the zipper of the dress with one swift move. I gasped as my
breasts bounced out of the leather, and he swallowed, his eyes glazed with
arousal. He pushed the dress open, his hand shaking, my whole body
exposed.
“You’re so fuckin’…” His face reddened as his gaze leered back and
forth along my figure. He sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes hungry as an
animal about to devour me.
He swallowed again as he rose, getting his legs out of his pants and
underwear. My eyes glued to the cock before me. Mike Gennaro’s cock. The
gorgeous, glistening erection of the Italian Heartthrob. My taboo, too-old-for-
me, mother’s friend. My own best friend.
All these years, I never dared glance down there, and Mike—despite
his movie choices—never went full frontal. Now, his cock was a couple of
inches from my reach, fully erected, for me, ready to please me.
All my insecurities blurred away at that moment as I curled my fingers
around him, my free hand gripping his ass. His stomach quivered as he
arched into my palm. So fucking warm: soft skin, hardwood beneath.
He leaned in, his hands firm on my breasts, moving in slow circles
then squeezing. Shaking, I pushed myself back on the bed, and he poised
against me. His mouth suckled on my hard nipples, sending a frisson of need
down to my center. As his tongue moved along my breasts, it met my scar.
I’d forgotten I even had it, but when he glanced up from it to me, the memory
hit me hard. No. Not now. Please.
As if he heard my thoughts, he resumed his kisses along my stomach,
his hands lingering on my breasts. “I can’t wait anymore.”
“You don’t have to.” I swept the tip of his cock across my entrance,
and he trembled.
Mike Gennaro trembled for me.
“Fuck.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Gonna go find a condom.”
My hands tightened around his ass, stopping him. “No rubber. I wanna
feel you inside me.”
His eyes blazed with lust. “You sure?”
I nodded fast. “Just pull out and come on my tits.”
He growled, throbbing against me. Then he guided his cock to my
opening and braced himself. His gaze locked with mine as he pressed down.
“I love you.”
Pushing slowly, his lips parted in a silent gasp, his entire body
shuddering. I couldn’t stop shaking, too. The way he filled me was
incredible. My breath caught, my eyes wide when he drew back and shifted
forward, the last three words he said vibrating through me.
We both looked down where we fit into each other. His hands slid
from my chest and moved behind my ass, pushing me more into him. “Ti
piace cosi?” he asked, tightening his hold.
I stuttered out a “Yes-s. So much.”
 He lifted my legs and let my feet rest on his shoulders. My head fell
backward as he moved faster. The sound of our bodies colliding drove me
nuts.
I gripped his thighs, squeezing the iron-clad muscles, crying out with
pleasure as he fucked me. I pressed my lips hard to stop my screams, but he
shook his head. “Don’t hold back. I wanna hear you.” He bent forward, his
thrusts harder and faster.
“God, Mike, your cock is so fucking good,” I mumbled in sweet pain.
“Fuck me…harder.”
His strokes were furious now, his groans sexier than anything I’d ever
heard before. I wanted him, all of him, all the time. The brush of his hair on
my skin. The sound of his voice whimpering my name. His weight on top of
me. His pressure on my hips. The unforced dirty words that came out of that
mouth. The glistening sweat on those solid muscles. The feeling of his hands
cherishing my flesh as he fucked me.
“Can you get there?” he asked. His groans were pleas now.
I felt myself tighten around him, close to another orgasm. No man had
been able to do that for me—make me come back to back. “So close,” I
replied, bucking into him, eyes rolling closed, teeth piercing my bottom lip.
His thumb reached my clit, pressing in sync with his thrusts. “Faster,
Mike. Oh God.” He obeyed, and I screamed, my head buried in his shoulder
as I came.
“Madre di Dio.” He pulled out, and I lifted my head, watching him as
he arched his back and panted my name over and over, and over and over, his
cum hot on my tits.
His back collapsed on the bed next to me. “What the fuck?” He placed
my hand on his chest. “What the fuck did you do to me?”
His body was still shuddering as I felt his heart pounding against his
ribs. I smiled at him while I tried to catch my own breath. “Yes. ‘What the
fuck’ is the right thing to say right now.”
He chuckled as he pushed sweaty hair off his forehead. He looked at
me for a moment, then at my chest, then at me again. “This, by the way, is so
sexy.” He raised the thumb that had been inside me to his nose, closing his
eyes as if in bliss. “And I can’t get enough of this.” He looked at me while he
sucked his thumb.
My pussy pulsed as if I hadn’t just come. Twice. “Fuck. Stop.”
He took my bottom lip between his teeth, then my upper lip, his tongue
teasing me.
“Seriously, I can’t go again. I can’t feel my legs.”
He laughed against my mouth. “I love you.”
I stared at him, surprised by how fast his words traveled to my pussy,
fully waking it. “Fuck. You couldn’t just shut up for five minutes.”
“What did I do now? I only said I loved you.”
“Yeah, with that voice, with that passion. You expect me to hear that
and just say I love you, too?”
“Uh…yes.”
“Well, I fuckin’ love you, too, but you just made me wanna hump you,
again.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
He muffled a laugh. “Damn right I’m not.”
“Don’t laugh.”
He slapped his hand over his mouth, but I could see his shoulders
shake from laughing.
“Don’t…don’t even breathe.”
He turned on his stomach, burying his face in the pillow.
“Fuck, Mike. I can see your fucking…perfect…ass. This is… You
know what? I’m gonna clean myself, and you just get it up. Third round starts
in two minutes.”
He raised his head, still laughing. “Si, signorina.”
 Scene 36
Mike

Five times.
Mike smirked as he watched the late afternoon sun cast specks on
Maggie’s naked back, last night’s orgy playing on repeat in his mind. She fell
asleep around seven, and he dropped right after her. Despite how exhausted
he was, he kept waking up every thirty minutes or so, making sure she was
still in his arms. As though if he let go of her for a second, she would
disappear. After a couple of hours, he gave up on sleep.
The covers slid to beneath her waist, the curves of her hips visible. He
draped his arm there, spooning her, growing harder. Every inch of him was
sore, and he only slept for a couple of hours, yet his dick was alive and
insatiable. Rolling his eyes, he shifted his lower body from hers so she
wouldn’t wake up.
“You trying to fuck me in the ass in my sleep?” she mumbled. “If I say
no awake, then it’s also a no sleeping.” She rolled to her side, her eyes
closed.
He chuckled, the memory of her fist punching his stomach when he
asked if she was into anal coming to his mind. “Mi dispiace. I didn’t mean to
wake you. Go back to sleep.”
She opened her eyes lazily, taking him in. “Oh fuck.”
“Oh fuck?” That was not what he anticipated to hear from her the first
time she woke up next to him. Did she regret last night? Oh fuck.
“I so hate you right now. Who looks like that when they wake up? Not
me, for sure. I need a hose to even look okay, and you’re so fucking…
gorgeous.”
He laughed, a wave of relief washing over him. “You don’t need…
anything. And I’m sure I look hideous when I wake up, but I…uh…I’ve been
up for a while.”
 Her eyes narrowed, almost closing again. “Did you spend the whole
day watching me sleep like the Aerosmith song?”
His finger swirled in her hair. “Not the whole day.”
“You’re a creep.” Her elbow rested on the pillow, her head supported
by her hand, her breasts perking up as she made herself comfortable. He
stared, taking a mental picture of this moment. This, right here, was what he
wanted to wake up to for the rest of his life.
“Stop looking at me like this,” she said.
“Like what? Like you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen?”
“No. That’s only a part of it. You look at me like I’m the most
beautiful everything in the world.”
How did she see into him this clearly? And how could she sum it all
and put it in one sentence? “True. To me, you are the world.”
She blushed and chuckled. Then she glanced down, her fingers
caressing the little hairs on his chest. “Speaking of the world, have you…”
She nodded toward his cellphone on the nightstand.
Drawing close, he massaged her tits, his leg pushing between hers, his
cock poking her. She didn’t stop him, but she didn’t move with him either.
“Evasion by sex is my technique, Mike. Just tell me.”
“You grew tired of me that fast?” he whispered on her neck as he
squeezed her ass.
She sighed, her body surrendering, warming up, her palm stroking him.
“I can never grow tired of you. But I wanna know.”
“Leave it to me, Carolina.” His lips caressed her throat.
She swallowed. “So it’s already started.”
“Now that we really are together, there’s nothing to worry about.”
A line appeared between her brows as she tightened her eyes.
His hands stilled. “I mean we are together?” His heart thrashed when
he couldn’t read her expression.
She looked away. “Mike, I’m very happy to know that you’re in love
with me, too, and I’m gonna remember last night for the rest of my life,
but…”
Dizzy, he could feel the blood running away from his face.
“God, look at you.” She glanced back at him, snickering. “I scared
your cock flat.”
“What?”
“I was kidding. Of course, we’re together.”
He winced, burying his head in her arms. “Merda! Don’t ever do that
again.”
She pulled away. “Don’t use that tone with me, Gennaro.”
“I’m serious. Don’t joke about us again.”
“Jesus. Okay. I’m sorry.”
His arms folded around her in a tight embrace. Then he put his hands
on either side of her face and mashed his lips into hers.
She rolled and nestled into his lap. “Why are you so scared?”
He just stared at her.
She gave him a reassuring smile. “I will not change my mind. You’re
the only thing I can’t change my mind about. Believe me, I’ve tried for years.
It didn’t work.”
“Good. That’s one reason out of the way.”
“What else?” she pressed on.
Escaping her gaze, he sighed, his chest heavy with secrets. “The past.”
“We all have pasts, Mike.” Her hand lifted to her scar, a grimace on
her face. “The question is, are we gonna let it dictate our present? Our
future?”
“What if it does either way?”
“Then we’re gonna need to be strong enough to accept it as it is and
still follow our dreams.”
His eyes lingered on her face for a while as he struggled with the two
prominent voices in his head. One screaming at him to tell her everything,
every secret, the other warning him to never utter a word.
“Maggie, I… I have to tell you something.”
She shook her head quickly. “I don’t wanna hear anything about your
past.”
“Maggie…”
She hushed him with her finger. “If you open up about it, then I’ll have
to tell you about the scar across my heart, and I don’t wanna do that. Not
now, not ever.”
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“Same applies to you.”
He lowered his head in defeat. The past would ruin everything.
Perhaps it was better to remain untold. He should keep his secret because,
now that they were together, he owed her whatever sacrifice would keep her
safe. Unhurt. Protected.
Even from himself.
“Unless you are or have been gay, a pimp, or have whored for money,”
she added.
He pursed his lips. “The last two make sense, but gay, seriously? Last
night isn’t enough proof for you?”
“You might be bisexual, who knows? You’re so obsessed with my ass
I’m starting to worry.”
His stomach shook with laughter. “Well, I’ve never been a pimp or a
whore. And yes, I’ve been a huge fan of your ass to the point of obsession,
but I’m, beyond doubt, not gay or bisexual.” He squinted at her. “Are you?”
“You’d love it if I were bisexual, wouldn’t you?”
He coughed a laugh. “It doesn’t hurt to ask.”
Her knee shifted to his balls. “Fuck you.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”
“Okay,” she mused.
 He heard something in her tone. “You know I’m joking, right?”
“Yeah. It’s just…”
“What is it?”
Her fingertips glided on his chest, making his skin tingle. “If you’re
scared of the past, I’m scared of the future.”
“Meaning?”
“You’re Mike Gennaro.” She said it as if it were the worst thing in the
world.
He rubbed a thumb over his eyebrow. “You think I’ll…cheat on you?”
“You have issues, babe, and without serious therapy, yes, I think you
will.”
“Cazzo.” He glowered. “No, Maggie. I will never cheat on you.”
“We’re not going public, and women are gonna continue hitting on
you, and you have quite a reputation—”
“I’m not gonna listen to this shit,” he interrupted. “Look, if you want
me to see a fuckin’ shrink to ease your mind, I will, but you clearly have no
idea how I feel about you.”
She crossed her arms, a slight smile in place. “Oh? And how does the
great Mike Gennaro feel?”
He might not tell her the truth about his past, but he would tell her the
truth that mattered.
“Since you returned from college, every time I’ve been on a date, I
didn’t see the girl. I only saw you. And in bed, no woman has made me
come. Not a single one. I had to come on my own, thinking of you. For the
past three months, I haven’t been able to get it up unless I pretended it was
you I was with. And I haven’t been with anyone but you since that talk show,
when I told the whole country I was hopelessly in love with you, hoping that
you’d fucking listen.”
She gaped at him for long moments. “You really are a creep.”
He snorted angrily. She wasn’t entirely wrong, though. This shit he’d
just confessed did make him sound like a creep. Fantasizing about his much
younger best friend, fucking her in his mind until he did for real. A girl he
helped raise.
Maybe I shouldn’t have said any of that.
“And I’m so fucking wet right now,” she added.
His cock jerked, and her lips bent to his in a kiss. “I love you,” she
whispered.
My heart rocketed. “Damn. I can’t even stay mad at you.”
Her lips curved into a cocky smirk. She shifted on his lap, her hand
adjusting his dick to her opening. “Good to know.”
“Stop. I’m not gonna fuck you now.”
Her teeth teased his earlobe. “You sure about that?” She licked his
neck, her tongue sliding down to his nipples.
Oh, not the lick on the neck, please. It’d always driven him crazy. He
closed his eyes as his erection hardened, and then he snapped them open.
“You can’t just do that.”
She smirked again, her tits in his face, her hand stroking him.
He groaned, fighting the urge to suck those nipples. “Shit. I’m gonna
come in your fist like that.” He grabbed her wrist, yanking her hand off him.
“Listen—”
“I don’t wanna listen.” She rubbed her face with both her hands,
leaving his lap. “I know what you’re gonna ask, and I don’t wanna do it.”
“Why? I want the whole world to know that you’re mine. Don’t you
want the whole world to know that I’m yours?” He got on top of her. “To
keep away other girls, at least?” he teased.
“Amore mio, you’re not thinking straight.”
Everything in me throbbed. “Hell yeah. How could I when you’ve just
called me that? Say it again.”
She smiled. “C’mon, I’m serious. Have you forgotten about Andrea?
She doesn’t even approve of our friendship. If she knows, your partnership
with her will be in danger.”
 He sighed, wishing he could tell her he’d already fired Andrea. Don’t.
That’s a can of worms if she asks why. “Why don’t you let me worry about
that? I know how to handle her.”
“Even if that’s true, what about our movies?”
“What about them?”
“I already told you. I don’t want anyone to say I hooked up with you
for them. Why can’t you understand?”
He filled his lungs with air. “Fine. Come vuoi. We won’t go public till
we finish shooting the movies. We’ll sit with our managers today to agree on
a story to tell the press. I’ll arrange for some interviews, tell my publicist to
sit with you for some coaching, and we’re good. But are the movies really the
only reason for this shit?”
Her lips twitched as she looked away.
She never cared what people thought or said as long as she knew the
truth, and she knew her success would be all hers. She already said she was
certain about their relationship, what else could it be? He narrowed his eyes,
his head spinning in circles. “Do you still…have feelings for…”
“What? No. Mike!” She glared at him, kicking him off her.
“Then what is it?” he asked, beyond irritated now.
“I’m not…strong enough for this.”
Something in her tone told him strong wasn’t her first word choice.
“For what?”
“The hype,” she answered. “I’m a director. I work behind cameras. I
don’t like to be looked at.” She brought the sheets up to cover herself, as if
suddenly aware she was naked.
He frowned incredulously. “You do realize there’s already a lot of
hype on you?”
She glowered at the sheets. “No. Since when people care about
whoever is behind the cameras?”
“Since you’re one of the youngest female directors in the industry who
makes that kind of movie.”
 “That kind of movie?”
“The ballsy kind that actually says something.”
“Even if that’s true, it will wear off in a minute. Besides, directors
don’t have to be hot.” Her voice dropped at the end.
“But you’re hot.”
“Please. You think I’m hot because you love me. There’s a big
difference.”
“Un-fucking-believable.” He slowly shook his head. “Come with me.”
“Come with you where?”
“There’s something you need to see. Something someone should have
shown you a long time ago.”
 Scene 37
Mike

Mike took Maggie’s hand and marched to a full-length mirror on the

other side of the room, next to the password-protected walk-in closet.
“You’ve got a pin code for your closet?” She snickered.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he pointed at the mirror. “Look at yourself.”
She stood there fidgeting, her arms moving nervously, veiling her
body. Then she looked away. “What are you doing?”
He made her look, holding her arms still. “I want you to see yourself
for what it really is, not according to what someone else had told you.”
“Mike…”
“Just look and tell me what you like.”
She blew out a breath. “Well…I like my eyes.”
“Even though they’re Andrea’s?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Continue.”
“My nose and cheekbones are okay, I guess. I think my lips are
beautiful.”
“What if some expert told you that your cheekbones are perfect, would
that make any difference in how you see them?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“Because it only matters what I think, and I know what I see.”
Holding her tight, he moved his head closer next to hers. “Is this really
what you see? Or is it what Andrea has been telling you?”
She swallowed, her expression dark, her eyes glistening. “I don’t
know. There isn’t a way to know for sure.”
The muscles around his heart squeezed. “What about your body?”
“What about it?”
“Tell me what you see.”
Her breath shook on her lips. “I don’t want to. I know what you’re
doing, but it’s not working.”
“You are beautiful, Maggie, and super sexy. I don’t say it because I
love you. I say it because it’s true. You once told me you finally realized
those facts about yourself, but I don’t think you truly feel it. You need to
remove that cloud over your eyes and start seeing your beauty for real.”
“Maybe one day,” she whispered, looking away again. “But I’m not
ready now. The question is, can you wait?”
“This is not about me, vita mia. You know I’ll do anything for you. If
you tell me to quit now so you won’t ever have to deal with any of that
madness, I will, without a second thought.”
She started to laugh, but then she must have seen something
convincing in his expression because she cropped the laughter short. “You
can’t do that. Not for me. Not for anyone.”
“Yes, I can. For you,” he said. “If I have to choose between you and
anything else, I’ll choose you. Every fucking time.”
“I will never ask you to quit. But at the same time, I don’t understand
why we’re fighting over,” she gestured at the mirror, “this.”
“Because it hurts.” It did. It really did. “It hurts me to see you like this.
Living a lie.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, his lips brushing softly
over the back of her neck. “Wait here.”
He went to the bed and grabbed the duvet and some pillows, arranged
them on the floor, and then he took the mirror and placed it on its side.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Lie down on your stomach and tilt your head toward the mirror.”
“What?”
 “Do it, Carolina.”
“Okay.” She sighed as she did as I asked, her eyes reluctant. “Do you
mind telling me what we’re doing?”
He settled behind her, their bodies not touching. “I’m gonna make you
see and hear exactly what every part of your body does to a man.”
 Scene 38
Maggie

This is fucked up. I stared at my naked self in the mirror. Tense.

Uncomfortable.
“Relax. You’re gonna enjoy this,” Mike said.
“Seriously? You’re using your cocky superstar tone? Like I’m not
intimidated enough right now?”
“Intimidated? I’m about to show you how much power you have on
me. I’m the one who should be intimidated.”
“I know how much power I have on a man, Mike. I have the parts that
do the trick.” I glanced at him over my shoulder. “But you’re not just any
man. You’re a movie star. The Italian Heartthrob. You hold the record for the
Sexiest Man Alive for fuck’s sake.”
“Even better. Now you’ll know how much power you have on the
Sexiest Man Alive.”
I snorted, my eyes raking his naked body. “You lie next to me looking
like this, as if you were fuckin’ Photoshopped, and say I have some sort of
power on you?”
He turned my head toward the mirror. “You’ll see for yourself.”
I took a deep breath as I focused on the image of his face. “Fine. At
least we’ll fuck in the end, right?”
“Guaranteed.”
“Okay.” I breathed in deeply and then out. “Show me.”
His chest puffed with a slow inhale. “When I look at you, I’m instantly
drawn to your lips. My first instinct is to touch you there. I wanna feel how
soft they are.” He did just that, running his index finger across my bottom lip.
“Then I lose focus to that little dimple, dying to let my tongue touch it.” His
eyelids dropped slowly, and I swallowed. “My cock starts to move.” He
inhaled. “I breathe to make it stop, and I force my gaze up to your eyes.”
His cock will move just by kissing? By imagining a kiss? I followed
with my eyes the same path his just did, my heart beating a little faster than it
should.
“I take my time to figure out the exact shade of brown they are. I can’t.
Instead,” he shifted behind me, making his upper body visible in the mirror,
“I fantasize about them looking back at me when I’m naked, with admiration
I hope, even a little lust. A guy can dream.”
I stared.
With more than admiration, and a lot more than a little lust.
“My cock stirs again, this time harder. I wanna look away, but I don’t.
Your eyes are too beautiful. Dangerous. I like to stay there a bit longer…
picturing how they roll back.” His voice hushed in the end, at the last word,
sending a shudder all over my skin.
I smiled as he bit his lip, my muscles relaxing, growing…I’d have
liked to say confident but no… I was growing horny. Very.
“I make myself stop before my erection is full. I try to stay away from
you, but your smell holds me in. I take a deliberate breath.” He inhaled…me,
his eyes closing. “It makes my skin tingle and sends a pulse down my cock. I
draw closer, sniffing your hair.” He did as he said. “And I think about how
your pussy smells right now.”
My pussy clenched. Hard.
“I distract myself by touching your hair. I like short hair, especially on
you. It lets me see your neck. I wanna draw my thumb along it, then kiss you
there.” His eyes followed his thumb as it moved along my neck. Then a little
moan accompanied his kiss. “I wanna turn you and suck your lips between
mine. I want to know if my kiss can make you wet like you are making me so
fucking hard right now.”
I stared with full attention now, monitoring Mike’s every blink, every
lash flutter, every lip twitch, every tremble. My arm stretched behind me to
touch him, but he forced it back, shaking his head. I sighed, noticing my face;
my eyes were hooded with arousal, my cheeks flushed, my lips apart.
 “I want to press myself to your front to make you feel how much I
want you, and I wanna see the look in your eyes when I do. But I don’t ‘cause
I know I won’t be able to stop myself from fucking you.” He took a moment
to even his breath. “I let my hand touch your shoulders like this.” He gripped
them. “Grab them, squeeze them, and I wanna touch your tits the same way. I
wanna see them. Have to see them.”
I turned on my side, my breasts fully visible in the mirror.
He was on his knees behind me now, his eyes pinned to my breasts.
“Now that I do, I shake, my cock as hard as a rock.” Flames burned in his
gaze as his hands pushed down from my shoulders. “Your tits are killing me.
I want them in my hands and in my mouth at the same time. I wanna swirl
my tongue around your nipples, feel them harden for me.” His breaths
became short as he fondled my breasts. “They’re very soft. Not round.
Teardrop. Very real.” He groaned. “Heavy in my palms as I press them.”
I lay on my back and stared at the mirror, watching as he got as much
of them into his mouth as he could. Then he went frantic, kissing, suckling,
flicking. I was squirming and whimpering, but, in that instant, I’d never been
so sure of my power as a woman. He was right. This was not such a bad idea
after all.
I pressed his head on my chest, wanting more. Much more. “Fuck me
in the tits.” It was more of an order than a request, my voice quiet, assured.
I traced his face in the mirror as he lifted his stare to me, his chest
heaving. “I’m dying to fuck your tits, but I know I’m gonna come as soon as
my cock is between them.” He closed his eyes, licking his lips. “Pre-cum
dripping at the thought.”
“I want to see,” I demanded.
He held himself up, his dick in his hand. I hissed when two drops
trickled on my stomach and slid down to my belly button.
“I’m shaking again, my heart ringing in my ears. I touch your stomach,
feeling your waist and how your hips curve.” He moaned loudly, his hands
moving lower. My legs parted as his fingers reached the top of my pussy.
“I’m too hungry for you now. All the lovey-dovey shit is gone. I wanna fuck
you like an animal, but I wanna know if you want to fuck me, too.” His
rugged voice set something wild in my core. “Wanna put my fingers inside
you to see how much you want my cock.” He looked at my face, not the
mirror, his gaze piercing. “And I wanna hear you say it out loud.”
My pelvis rose as if reaching for something in the air. I stared at his
reflection, my nipples so hard they hurt, my pussy even wetter than last night
when he first touched me. “I want you to fuck me so much, Mike. So fucking
much.”
He yanked his gaze from mine, tilting his head back, groaning. “As
much as I want to, I stop my fingers from going into the pussy that’s torturing
me,” he murmured.
“Why? What the fuck? Why?” He was the one torturing me, not the
other way around.
“Your wetness is gonna rip me apart. I don’t wanna come just yet. I
want my cock deep inside, making your cunt burn the same way my whole
body burns.”
“Make me burn, Mike. Do it. What the hell are you waiting for? Do
you want me to beg? I’m not gonna beg.” I touched myself. I couldn’t bear
this emptiness where I needed him to fill me.
“Silenzio. I’m trying to cool down here.” He opened his eyes, glaring
at me, grabbing my hand away. “Fuck, Maggie!” He flipped me on my
stomach, folding one arm around my waist. I was on all fours, my ass in the
air, and then he let go. “Your ass distracts me a little. I take my time, looking
at it. Marveling at it.” He felt up the globes. “There’s actually something to
grab there. Good God, your ass is so perfect I wanna eat it.” He bit me, and I
moaned.
Mike Gennaro’s marveling at my big ass.
There was one thing I’d always liked but never asked for. Not when
Kyle couldn’t even talk dirty. “Spank it,” I said.
The raw growl from Mike made me shiver with pleasure. His palm
clacked on my butt, and my face went red. It wasn’t rough or painful. It was
erotic. Intense.
“Do it again,” I commanded.
He smacked the other cheek, a little harder this time. I winced, desire
rippling through me. His palms felt hot as they groped my ass. “I want you to
arch your ass in my hands, so I can put my finger in there.”
What the fuck? I turned my head to the side, glowering at him.
“Look in the mirror,” he ordered.
I narrowed my eyes at his reflection, hoping they were menacing
enough.
The corner of his mouth curved in a smirk as his eyes stared at my
asshole. “I think about how my cock will feel there. So tight.”
Just because I liked the spanking didn’t mean he could Fifty Shade me.
“Don’t you dare.
“I love your ass. Love it.” He squeezed it harder and spanked me
again. “I wanna look at it, grip at it, but while I’m inside your fucking, wet,
slick, pussy.”
His words were unhurried, deliberate, sending fire in all the right
places. He parted my legs farther, and he tasted me. He exhaled in me,
swearing. “I lose all control as I lick your juice.” Bracing himself on his legs,
he pushed forward, holding his cock in his hand. He looked at my bent body
one more time, taking it all in. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
He gripped my hip, the other hand rubbing his tip against me. My head
fell forward, and my fingers wrinkled the pillow sheet under me.
“Don’t hide your face from my view. I wanna watch as I fuck you.”
Fuck. Okay. Anything you want. Just fuck me already. I looked back
into the mirror, and he pushed his cock inside me. His mouth opened with a
wild groan. His hard abs clenched against my ass. “This is the best feeling
I’ve ever had in my life.”
Yes. Yes, yes. FUCK YES.
His thrusts were slow, hard, deep. The grimace of sweet pain on his
face gave me more pleasure. The pulsing vein in his neck. The white
knuckles on my hips. The rigid breaths on my back. He was watching me
with something like awe, but he wasn’t talking anymore.
That wouldn’t do at all.
 “Talk,” I murmured.
He smiled, swallowing, sweating. “I try to sort out…how I can make
you as twisted with need…as I am.” He circled his hips, speeding up his
movements.
I closed my eyes, lost in the moment. “Mike…”
“Don’t close your eyes. Look at me. Look at what you do to me.”
What am I doing to him?! What is he doing to me? I cried out,
snapping my eyes open. “What do I do to you?”
“You make me feel like I’ve never fucked a pussy before. Mi fai
impazzire. Your pussy is driving me insane, Carolina.” He brought his hands
to my shoulders for support. “Fuck. The way your tits are swaying as I fuck
you… Ahhh. Look at your ass. Your fucking perfect ass.”
“Oh my God,” I panted. His cock inside me alone was enough to rip
me apart. This was so intense, so hot, when I had to keep my eyes open,
when he was making me watch like that.
He squeezed my shoulders, his thumbs bracketing the curve of my
spine. “Your skin is unbelievable, slick with sweat like this.” He bent his
knees, his strokes frantic, my body rocking back against his.
I shifted my weight to my elbows and screamed, asking for harder, my
fingers twisting into the fabric of the duvet. He pulled me back roughly with
every thrust, and then he pulled my hair and leaned forward, sending his cock
even deeper.
Moaning his name, I looked at his image, and he was wrecked, almost
broken. His fingers dug into my flesh, leaving white and pink marks there. “I
can’t take it anymore.”
“Don’t you dare stop now. Don’t you fucking dare stop.”
“God, Maggie.” He squeezed his eyes shut, running one hand in his
hair, his other making its way to my clit. “You’d better come now, or I’ll
have to come inside you.”
I gasped for breath, an ache roiling in my belly, my head thrown back
against his shoulder. With his thumb and his cock reaching every fucking
nerve in my pussy, I screamed his name like I never screamed before, my
eyes wide open, the spasms of my orgasm magnificent.
He pulled out fast. “FUCK.” With one hand squeezing my breast, he
lashed out in a frenzy of curses, spraying my ass with hot sticky cum.
He rested his own ass on his heels, recovering. I just glanced at him,
equally spent, a long stretch of silence between us. I didn’t mind. I couldn’t
move, couldn’t think.
“I never felt anything like this before,” he finally said, his voice sullen.
I rolled on my back, feeling his cum spreading on my ass and the
duvet, wondering where this had gone wrong to upset him. “Like what?”
He lay on his side next to me, his expression unreadable, and then he
kissed me.
“Like what?” I repeated with a smile.
He blinked, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Powerless.”
My smile grew. “I thought that was the point.”
“The point was to make you feel beautiful. Powerful.” He bowed his
head. “Not to make me fuckin’ weak and defenseless like that.”
“You’re not weak, amore mio. You’re everything but.” I wrapped my
arms around his neck. “Please don’t ruin this for me. I thought last night was
the best sex I’ve ever had, but this… Please tell me you felt it, too.”
“I did. Probably even more. It scared the hell out of me. Did it, at least,
work? Did you see how beautiful you are?”
“I did.” It was as if a whole new world had opened its doors to me. I
was only stepping in, but it felt so good to just be in there. “I do.”
“I love you so much, Maggie. More than I ever should.”
I swallowed, somehow scared, too, now. Not of moving forward, but
of ever having to go back. “I love you, too.” That was all I could say, but I
felt and meant every letter.
“Whatever happens, don’t leave me.” His eyes glittered. “Tell me you
won’t ever leave without letting me fix whatever it is first,” he said, his
fingers stabbed in my arms. “Please.”
 He was struggling for no reason, and I wished I’d known exactly what
to do to make him feel the same way he made me feel. Grounded. Confident.
I would never leave him. I, too, would choose him over anything else. I, too,
loved him more than I should ever have.
I leveled my gaze with his, putting all my love, all my trust, all my
resolution in my eyes before my voice. “I won’t.”
 Scene 39
Maggie

I wrapped a towel around myself as I stepped out of Mike’s bathroom,

my muscles still tickling from the Jacuzzi water. I walked to where my dress
was dropped on the floor and picked it up. Mike’s jeans, belt, and boxers
were on the floor, too, and the memory of him coming with me went bright in
my head, sending a tightness between my thighs.
I rolled my eyes. Thank God he agreed each of us showered alone. I
was dehydrated, famished, and my legs wobbled so much I could barely
walk, let alone hump. Put me in the shower with him and it would have been
all over again.
Tugging at the zipper didn’t work. Mike did rip it off. My shoulders
slumped as I looked for an alternative. A folded red fabric on top of the
scrambled bed sheets caught my attention. A man’s T-shirt. Mike’s.
I smiled, slipping the soft cotton over my head. Smelling the collar, I
looked at myself in the mirror, the red material soothing on my skin. The
fragrance that lingered—his fragrance, distinctive and overwhelming— made
my heart flutter.
I took the elevator to the kitchen. A soft melody streamed from the
central sound system. Dark orange sunlight sifted through the windows and
onto the hardwood floor. Mike was at the counter, his wet hair tied back, his
naked back to me. The rim of his black boxers peaked out from his jeans.
Dirty pictures played in my head. Pictures of me, holding him from
behind, inserting my hands in the back pockets of his ass-hugging jeans, and
then sitting on that counter, my legs apart.
I tsked my tongue, and he turned his head. “I didn’t hear you come…
in.” His smile tightened on his lips the second he laid eyes on me. Quickly,
he returned to what he was doing and cleared his throat. “You had a nice
bath?”
“Yeah. Thanks for the T-shirt.”
 “It looks…good on you.”
By the shake of his head, I knew good was an understatement. I
approached the counter. “What’re you making?”
“Gnocchi,” he answered without so much of a glance at me. “The
housekeeping staff comes here weekly to clean the house and stock the
kitchen in case I show up or have guests over. I wanted to grill some steaks,
but I didn’t find any, only chicken. I know you don’t eat that, so I changed
the plan to gnocchi and shrimps.”
I laughed as I remembered each time Kyle had forgotten I didn’t eat
chicken and tried to change my mind. Whereas Mike…
“Sorry. I know I’m rambling. I just need a distraction,” he said.
“That’s not why I’m laughing.” I moved my fingers along the counter
instead of his abs. “I could use a distraction, too. How can I help?”
He chuckled. “By staying away from me.”
I giggled. “How’s that even happening?”
“No fuckin’ idea. I have zero energy left, but…” Mike pivoted a little,
gesturing at the front of his jeans.
A huge bulge in his jeans stared me in the face. “Fuck.” I retreated to
the breakfast table at the far end of the kitchen. “I did not need to see that.”
My ears concentrated on the song playing now.
Let's find out
What you are about
What's hidden in there
What you've got for me there.
“Seriously? Okay, how about you change that song, put a fuckin’ shirt
on, and I put on something…longer…and not red?”
He twisted, looking at me with smiling eyes. “Great idea. Go into my
closet and pick the ugliest thing there, per favore. The pin code is your
birthday.”
What? My heart careened. Just like that, the last wall of my resistance
shattered. My strides were fast toward him, my hands faster groping for his
body like a blind person. He lifted me to the counter, his lips consuming me.
Just like that, my knees hooked behind him as our breaths caught together.
 Scene 40
Mike

Mike put on his signature smile and flashed Maggie’s phone at her.
Curled on the living room couch, she grunted and shook her head. “No.
Not yet.”
“You have to turn it on.” He slumped next to her without losing his
smile.
“Don’t give me that smile, Gennaro. It’s not gonna work on me.”
“You sure about that?” His smile grew bigger.
She stared at him for a moment and then giggled. “This is so creepy.
How the fuck you do that?”
He joined her laughter, placing the phone in her hand. “Years and
years of practice.”
Heaving a sigh, she stared at the gadget. “I don’t think I’m ready just
yet.”
“Yes, you are.” His hands massaged her shoulders. “I already called
James and told him to get here at nine. You need to call DeVries and do the
same.” He kissed her cheek. “If we’re still doing that no going public thing,
we gotta come up with a story that satisfies you and feed it to the press fast.
Besides, you need clothes.”
“What time is it?”
“Open your phone and see.”
She tapped him in the stomach, and he faked a wince that made her
smile. “Here goes nothing.” She pressed the phone button. “When are you
going back to Newark?”
“I was supposed to leave tonight, but I postponed the flight to nine a.m.
tomorrow.”
 Her shoulders went rigid. “How long will you be gone?”
“Uh…a week.”
“Oh.” She dropped her gaze and watched notifications go haywire on
her phone.
“What about you? Do you have to work tonight?”
“No, but I have to be on set tomorrow at ten in the morning.”
“That must be killing you, having to wake up early to go to work,” he
said, hoping to distract her…and himself. He knew how much he’d miss her.
How difficult it’d be to leave her now. And by the tone of her voice, he knew
it was hard for her, too.
A deep line formed between her eyebrows as she looked at him.
“Mike…I know I can’t ask you this, but I don’t want you to leave. Call me
selfish, young, naive, whatever you want, but a week? It’s too long.”
“I know, amore. It’s too long for me, too. I have no idea how I’m
gonna do it.”
“Can you at least make it shorter?”
“I’ll do the best that I can.” He stroked her hair. “I’ll ask for an
eighteen-hour schedule to finish my scenes as early as possible and get back
to you. I’ll cancel all the interviews and photo shoots till you wrap, so you
can, at least, come with me.”
She clung to his arm. “Thank you.”
The phone buzzed in her fist. “Fuck. It’s Andrea,” she grumbled,
canceling the call, her fingers quick with a text message to her manager.
“Okay. I texted Samantha the address and told her to get me something to
wear on the way.” She clutched at her stomach, her fingers fumbling through
social media applications.
“You shouldn’t do that.” He snatched the phone out of her hand.
Her thumb pressed at the top of her stomach. “Then tell me what
they’re saying.”
“What difference does it make? Good or bad, it’s gossip. You can’t let
it affect or concern you.” He looked at her abdomen. “You all right?”
 “I’m a little nauseated, and my stomach is acting up.” Closing her
eyes, she inhaled. “Stress does that to me.”
He set the phone in his lap and rubbed her shoulders. “Should I call a
doctor?”
She snorted. “Hell no. How about a joint?”
Her phone buzzed again. She looked, and then winced, her face
growing pale. His gaze fell on his lap and the name on the screen. Kyle.
Mike clenched his teeth, a headache banging his head out of the blue.
He glanced at her, sizing up her expression.
“I think I’m gonna be sick.” She bounced off the couch and darted to
the bathroom.
He jumped to his feet, going after her, but she held her hand up,
motioning for him to stay. He glared at her phone, his fingers itching to pick
up. He wasn’t going to be polite and reserved like Kyle was when he asked
him to stop pursuing Maggie. Mike was going to tell him to fuck off. Loud
and clear.
Except he couldn’t. He wasn’t allowed. To tell Kyle meant he would
know. An ex-boyfriend with a grudge meant the whole world would know.
Mike growled as the invisible chains Maggie put around his hands
burned, and for a moment he was angry at her. He stalked to the bathroom,
ready for a fight.
She was on her knees, hunched over the toilet, her hair hiding her face.
“Get out. I don’t want you to see this.”
“No.” His anger vanished into concern. He quickly squatted behind her
and pushed her hair off her face, holding it with one hand, rubbing her back
with the other. “You sure this is just stress?” It couldn’t be the food. He’d
eaten it, too.
The sounds of her getting sick turned violent. “I’ve been like this…
since I started the movie.” Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she
got to her feet, flushed the toilet, and then she splashed water from the sink
faucet onto her face. “Do you have, like, mouthwash or something?”
He opened the cabinet above the sink and grabbed a blue bottle.
“Here.”
As she gurgled on the minty liquid, he gave her a backrub. “I’m
worried about you, Carolina.”
She spat. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’ve been like this my
whole life.”
“I know, but this business needs better nerves.”
She laughed tiredly. “Thank God for weed. Let’s roll some.”
“No. You smoked too much yesterday.”
“So?” She trudged down the hallway and back to the living room.
Mike followed, apprehension building up in him. She did love weed,
and she had her own vape, but he’d always thought she smoked for fun, not
to deal with pressure.
He bent a leg under him as he curled back on the couch next to her.
“How much do you smoke a day?”
She fumbled with her phone. “What are you? Party police?”
“I’m serious.”
“I don’t keep track. Depends on the day and how shitty I feel. Some
days, I don’t smoke at all. Other days, I might party till I can’t keep my eyes
open. Who are you to judge? You party every fucking day.”
“But I never get stoned when I work. You shouldn’t either. Ever heard
of studio drug tests? They’re a pain in the ass to cheat, and if you tested
positive, you could lose your job.”
“Why the hell are you telling me a cautionary tale? It’s not like I
depend on it or something.”
“Yet.” A wave of nausea hit him. “You don’t depend on it yet.”
“Are you for real right now? Oh my God. This is fucked up. I really
didn’t need this right now.” She rose, her eyes wide. “The whole country is
gonna call me a fucking bitch, a gold digger! My family and friends, who, by
the way, love Kyle more than they love me, will hate me for what I did to
him. Not to mention how shitty I feel about what I did to him. And you’re
doing this? Excuse me if I’m trying to loosen up a bit!”
 “Vita mia—”
“Don’t Vita mia me!” she yelled. “You’re gonna wake up a happy
man, parading your triumph, while your friends commend and congratulate
you for getting the young ass.”
He stood. “Che cazzo? You think you’re some conquest to me? Some
trophy?”
“You know what I mean. You have nothing to lose here. I do. Andrea
is gonna give me shit. My crew will fake smiles to my face while calling me a
heartless bitch behind my back. And I won’t be able to say a thing to either of
them. I’m the one whose heart will be torn with guilt every time I see Kyle’s
name on my phone. I’m sure as hell I didn’t need a lecture about drugs from
Mike Gennaro.”
He chewed on his lip, not knowing whether to yell back or hug her
now. Despite how agitated her words made him feel, it was all true. He was
too selfish, too happy, to see the situation from her perspective. Regardless of
how many times he or she would deny it, people would believe what they
wanted to believe. As a man, he’d be commended for tapping The Kid. As a
woman, she’d be called names.
His heart dented at the thought alone. He stepped forward and kissed
her hard. She resisted at first, but her tongue softened in the end, accepting.
Then both of her hands were on his chest as she pulled away. “You can’t win
an argument like that. It’s not fair.”
“I wasn’t trying to win.” His fingers tangled in her hair. “I’m sorry. I
didn’t mean to upset you. I overreacted, I know, but now that you’re my
girlfriend, I feel even more protective of you. I was worried, that’s all. I’ll die
if something ever happens to you.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist. “Nothing will happen to me,
Superstar. But I need your support, not your judgment.”
“Always.”
The doorbell chimed, and she flinched in his arms.
“That must be James,” he said.
“Let the war begin,” she mumbled.
 Scene 41
Maggie

“It’s a wrap for today,” Erisha, the AD, yelled out and instantly turned
to me, handing me a piece of paper. “Your call sheet.”
I nodded, stretching my arms and rose from my chair. A wave of
vertigo slammed into me, and I fell back.
“Maggie?” Erisha crouched next to me. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” My head spun as I remembered I hadn’t eaten a thing all day.
“I’ll go screen dailies. Can you please get me a sandwich or something and
meet me in the screening room?”
“Sure. Anything?”
“Anything but chicken will be fine.” I trudged past wires and
equipment and into the screening room.
It was almost empty of people, except for the DP. He was around fifty
years old and his eyes reminded me of Dad. I sat, my sneakers propped
against the edge of the board, rubbing my eyes as I watched the clips playing.
“What happened to you?” he asked, hunched over an array of buttons
and sliders underneath the three television screens, his words slow as he
always talked. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like shit.”
You don’t say? Between an exhausting and unsatisfactory conversation
with the managers last night—they couldn’t come up with a good cover up
story yet—and knowing that Mike wasn’t going to be with me for an entire
week, I couldn’t sleep or eat at all. And sneaking out of his house and not
being able to see him off to the airport hurt more than I expected. “Just a little
dizzy. I forgot to eat.” My stomach growled, as if on cue.
“You need to take care of yourself, Kid.” He pressed a button, and the
clip changed to a close-up of Chester Monroe. “If you’re not careful, this
business will get the best of you.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” I ignored the Kid word and focused
on the screens. Everybody called me that now. From Don Robello himself to
the PAs. Perhaps it was better to embrace the stupid nickname until it faded
with time.
At the sound of approaching footsteps, I jerked my head toward them.
Please be Erisha with the food.
But it was Amanda.
I smiled at the friendly face I hadn’t seen since the party. “Hey. I
haven’t seen you all day. I thought you were off or something.”
Amanda’s eyes barely flickered toward me. “No, I’m here.” She
bowed her head, tucking her hair behind her ear, and handed the DVDs in her
hands to the DP. “Do you need anything else?”
He shook his head. “Thanks.”
It’d been flying eye daggers all around set today, but I didn’t expect
that attitude from my own friend. Et tu, Brute? I stood. “Can I talk to you for
a sec?”
Amanda pointed at the editing room, her feet fast on the way out. “Not
now, Maggie. It’s already late, and I still have a good hour in there.”
I cut in her path, holding her arm. “I’m sure you can spare five
minutes.”
Amanda’s eyes were smoky, and I was shocked by the hostility in
them. The DP smiled uneasily and edged away.
“What the fuck is going on?” I asked.
Amanda shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Really? Then why are you avoiding me? And why are you giving me
this fucking look?”
“Look, Maggie…we’ve been friends for almost a year. You’re one of
the most talented people I’ve ever seen, and I’m very thankful to you for
getting me this gig. But…”
“But what?”
Amanda’s gaze became harsh. “What you did at the party…was just
low,” she whispered.
 I looked around to see if someone was listening, but the room was
ours. “What exactly did I do? I was ambushed with a marriage proposal I
wasn’t ready for. I couldn’t have just said yes to please people.”
“It’s not just that. You… You ran away with another man,” Amanda
said, her voice hushed. “Like it wasn’t enough that you broke Kyle’s heart,
but you had to rub it in his face in front of everyone.”
My arm dropped. “I didn’t run away with another man. I just ran away.
Mike was the only one who wasn’t looking at me like I had shit on my face.
You should’ve seen the way you looked at me when you didn’t find a ring on
my finger. Even my father looked at me like I’d just killed someone.”
“I was shocked. We were all shocked.”
“Why? Because I was so happy with Kyle you didn’t see it coming?” I
scoffed. “Or because someone like me can never find a better husband and I
was insane to say no?”
“Maggie—”
“I thought you were my friend. I thought you were gonna be on my
side.” I started away before I’d cry, but Amanda touched my arm, stopping
me.
“I am your friend, and I’m sorry I’ve been a shitty one. I should’ve
been there for you. And for the record, I don’t believe what they say about
you hooking up with Mike for the movies. I mean, I’ve been there every step
of the way. It’s just—”
“You like Kyle too much,” I interrupted again.
Amanda blushed, her lashes fluttering. “I… I… Um…”
“It’s okay.” I smiled, my shoulder lifting with a shrug. “He’s single
now.”
“I would never do that,” Amanda said quickly.
“It’s better you than anyone else. You and I both know someone like
him won’t stay single for long.”
He might have failed to make me feel loved or happy, but he was, at
heart, a good man. He just didn’t know that love meant acceptance. And he
didn’t have what it took to understand that life wasn’t made of sunshine and
rainbows. Not my life anyway.
Now that I had Mike, that I, for the first time, felt like I was home, I
wanted everyone I cared about to feel the same way.
Amanda was about to say something, but her stare lingered over my
shoulder. I turned and found Chester stepping inside the room, a bright smile
on his lips, a duffle bag in his grip.
“That’s my cue.” Amanda patted my arm before she ambled away.
Shit. I wished Amanda could have stayed longer so I could ask her
about what happened at the party after I left and…about Kyle. But then, what
good could come out of knowing how he’d been? Better Drop it. “Don’t be a
stranger, Amanda.”
She glanced at me over her shoulder, and then she came back and gave
me a hug. “Drinks tomorrow?”
I squeezed her back, happy that I didn’t lose one of my closest friends.
“Sure.” Then I watched her disappear behind the door, before I returned to
my seat.
Chester dragged a chair and settled next to me, tossing rusty blond hair
off his forehead. His blue eyes flicked from his face on the screen to mine.
“Do you think you have it?”
I glanced at the different angles of the presented scene and pointed at
the shot on the left screen. “Yeah. This one here.”
He stood up and reached between his legs, grabbing the chair and
dragging it closer. When he sat back down, there were only a couple of feet
between us. “I like it. Can you show me the one with the kiss?”
I pressed a button, and the short clip played seamlessly. “It’s good.”
“The kiss?” He leaned forward. “Or the kisser?”
My eyes trained on his face, studying it. The swallow of his throat. The
heat of his cheeks. The twitch of his lips. Fuck. “The scene is good, Monroe.
If you wanna know about your kissing skills, don’t ask me. Ask your co-
star.”
“But I don’t wanna ask Sandra. I don’t have a thing for Sandra.” He
ran a hand over the back of his head. “I kinda like you, Maggie…since I first
saw you. You were taken then, but now you’re single. I mean, you are single,
Mags?”
I narrowed my eyes into a harsh squint. “Are you hitting on me or were
you sent to know if I’m secretly dating a certain celebrity?”
“Um… I never believed that Gennaro thing. He’s too old for you, but
I’m not hitting on you either. Not that way. I mean, I wanna take you out,
like, on a real date.” He flashed ridiculously-white teeth at me. “I really like
you, Mags.”
I tilted back in my chair and looked at the ceiling. My phone was
vibrating in my pocket, but I couldn’t just answer it. Not in the middle of this
craziness. Especially if it was Mike. “Seriously, Chester? I just broke up like
two fucking minutes ago.” My glare returned to his face. “And I’m your boss.
Call me Mags again, and I’ll kill you.”
He grinned. “You’re even hotter when you’re mad.”
I kicked his knee, and he winced, laughing through the pain. Looking
at the door, I spotted Erisha coming in with a sandwich in her hand. “What
took you so long?” I grabbed the sandwich and munched on it. “Can we
screen those fuckin’ dailies so we can all go home?”
My phone vibrated again. It had to be Mike, reminding me to eat and
checking how I was handling today, like he’d been all day. But when
everyone stepped away from me and I glanced at the screen, I saw it wasn’t
Mike. It was Kyle.
 Scene 42
Maggie

It was almost midnight when I made it home. I’d been working for
fourteen hours in an unfriendly environment, my stomach acting up as fuck,
and the last thing I needed was photographers and reporters mobbing around
my apartment building.
Their shouts fell on me unheard as I elbowed my way through the
masses without so much of a word. I wasn’t ready for their irritating
questions, and if I opened my mouth I’d snap.
The second I reached the apartment, I dropped on the bed. My phone’s
vibrations tingled at my thigh. “Please be Mike,” I said, getting my phone out
of my pocket. My lips tightened as I stared at the name. Kyle. Again.
I squeezed my eyes shut, a wave of nausea hitting me hard. Then I
stared back at the dimming screen, my thumb acting faster than my brain.
“Hello?” His voice was hoarse as if he hadn’t spoken in a while.
My heart thumped as I peered at the call in progress, my hand slow as
it brought the phone to my ear.
“Maggie?”
I gulped. “Yes.”
“I’m…downstairs in my car.” A heavy sigh escaped him. “I didn’t
wanna come up when you weren’t there. Can I… I need to get a few things
from the apartment.”
“Yes.” Suddenly, I became aware everything in the apartment was
exactly as I left it two days ago. “But be careful. There’re reporters at the
entrance.”
“I know. I’ll go from the back. Thanks.” He hung up.
The phone fell to my lap, my eyes pinned to the door. When I heard
the key rattle, I flinched. The door opened and Kyle’s blond hair popped in as
he took off his cap. He stood by the door for a few seconds, glancing at me.
The eyes said it all. The hurt. The betrayal. The love. The longing. By the
puffiness under them and the circles around, I knew he’d been crying. A lot.
He let himself in and closed the door, his head down. “I’m just gonna
get some things and go.”
I traced him as he stumbled through the apartment, grabbing random
things. It was odd watching his incredible body that once drove me crazy and
feeling nothing. Not the slightest bit of temptation.
“How long have you been waiting for me?” I asked.
“Um…a few hours.” He opened the closet and got a suitcase out of it.
“You haven’t stayed here since…the party.” His neck rolled back. “Where
have you been staying?”
Flashes of the disaster party streamed in my mind, guilt escalating
inside me. I pulled at the back of my hair, my stomach tied in a thousand
knots, thinking of the best deflection tactic to use; I couldn’t tell him the
truth. “You stalking me now?”
“Maybe.” He chuckled a humorless sound. “I tried to call you, but you
never answered, so I got a little worried.” His hands grabbed some shirts
from the clothes rack and threw them in the suitcase. I could see the tightness
of his jaw and the scowl on his face from where I sat, and when our eyes met,
my chest squeezed with pain.
He spun and let the suitcase drop on the floor, and my heart sank to my
knees. “You left without a word. You didn’t say why. You didn’t say
goodbye. You didn’t say anything. You just disappeared.” His blue eyes
glittered. “You don’t think I deserve an explanation, some sort of closure, a
chance to fix what went wrong?”
My chin quivered. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” he asked incredulously. “How could you do this to
me? Why did you lie to me?”
“I never lied to you.”
“You told me you loved me when you were in love with him the whole
time,” he yelled.
 I rose from the bed. “Kyle, you know I didn’t say I loved you till I
meant it. When I said it, I felt every word.”
He crossed to my side and stood so close I could feel his heated breaths
on my face. “Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t leave me to be with
him.”
I squared my shoulders and stared at him with daring eyes, guilt
suddenly replaced by anger. “I didn’t leave you to be with him.”
“Stop lying to me.”
“I’m not lying.” Two days ago, Mike had been a fantasy I hadn’t
known could come true. And even if I hadn’t been in love with Mike, I would
have never married Kyle.
“Then why?” he asked under his breath.
I lowered my head. “Kyle, please. What difference does it make?”
“I need to know. I loved you more than anything in the world. Why did
you do this to me, Maggie? Why?” he shouted.
“Because since we moved in together, I couldn’t recognize myself
anymore,” I snapped, my chest heaving.
He stepped back, his eyes dimming, dark. “What are you talking
about? You were happy.”
“Happy? Kyle, I looked perfect on the outside, handmade for you, but
on the inside, I felt like shit. Not good enough as I am.” A lump rose to my
throat. “Exactly the way my mother made me feel. The same kind of
manipulation. The same kind of hurt.”
Dazed, he stared at me. “When have I ever manipulated you?”
“Oh my God.” I didn’t know what upset me more now, what he’d done
or how oblivious he was to it. “How about when you got me to move in with
you, the spontaneous sex and saying dirty words that never happened again
after that night? Or the birthday party? I’m sure you hated every part of it, but
it was the perfect setup to blind me with your generosity and the great length
you’d go to make it perfect for me. Another thing I’m positive wouldn’t have
happened again once I said yes.”
“Maggie…I was just trying to please you.”
 “Please me? By cooking me chicken dinners even though you know
how much I hate it? Or by inviting the person who has hurt me the most to
my birthday? Or by taking her side the second you met her when I’ve told
you exactly how she treated me? Tell me, Kyle, how would that please me?”
My voice cracked. “How was I supposed to marry someone who won’t stand
up for me? Someone who tells me I’m the problem?”
His lips pressed together as he placed his hands on either side of my
face. I thought his touch was going to make me nervous, remind me of how I
used to feel for him, but it fell bland on my cheeks.
“I’m so sorry, Maggie. I didn’t understand, but I do now.” He nodded
emphatically. “Sweetheart, please, just give me another chance. I swear I can
fix it.”
“There’s nothing to fix. We just don’t belong together. I need someone
who loves me for who I am, not despite who I am.”
His hands fell limp. “And you think he does?” Bitterness dripped from
his strained voice.
“Yes.” I answered too quickly and bit my lip in regret.
“He’s going to hurt you, Maggie.”
I shook my head. Mike was the only person who wouldn’t.
“Yes, he is, but you’re too stubborn to listen.”
I sighed, wishing this conversation over. This was a mistake. I
shouldn’t have let him come up.
“I know nothing I say now will change your mind. You once told me
you had to try things out first before you made your decision, so go ahead.
Give it a shot. You’re a smart woman. You’ll see that I’m the right choice for
you.” He stepped closer, his gaze level with mine. “So make no mistake, I’m
not saying goodbye just yet. And when he breaks your little heart, I’ll be
waiting to fix it once and for all.”
 Scene 43
Mike

Against his better judgment, Mike turned on the TV and flipped

through the entertainment news. He knew better than to keep up with
whatever was being said about Maggie and him, however; something told
him when he called her last night, and she was in tears and didn’t say why, it
was bad press related.
His eyes narrowed as pictures and clips of Maggie going into her
apartment building flashed around the screen. “Together Again or Not?” was
all he needed to hear to send his emotions into a downward spiral. He locked
the trailer and returned to his chair, watching what the tabloids had to say.
“Our reporters confirmed that Maggie Dawson AKA The Kid, the
young director from L.A., had finally returned to her apartment after she fled
her birthday party with Mike Gennaro three days ago. While the Italian
Heartthrob spent the past weekend in his Bel Air Mansion, allegedly alone,
before he flew back to Newark this Monday, Dawson’s whereabouts for
those days remain a mystery.
“Shortly after her return, Kyle Burley, the handsome twenty-six-year-
old broker and Dawson’s was-to-be fiancé was spotted entering the apartment
building from the back entrance, wearing a cap and a black hoodie,” the
brunette host said and pictures of Kyle replaced Maggie’s.
“He stayed in for more than twenty minutes before he came down with
a suitcase. Unlike Dawson, who refused to comment on any of our questions,
he gave our reporters this statement.”
A clip of Kyle played, one foot already inside his car as he talked to
the press. “Ms. Dawson and I, like any couple in the world, go through some
difficult situations sometimes. We both agreed to take some time off to figure
things out and hopefully reconcile our differences. We appreciate it if you’ll
give us the privacy to do so.”
Mike turned the TV off and hurled the remote onto the table in front of
him. It slid and landed on the floor in pieces. “The fucking prick!”
He stared at the wall in his trailer and tried to think of harmless reasons
why Maggie hadn’t told him about Kyle’s visit. When he found none, he
grabbed his cell and called her. She answered, out of breath. Her huffs into
the phone made him lose his mind for a second. “Am I interrupting
something?”
“What?”
“Why are you out of breath?”
“I kinda ran to my trailer to talk to you in private,” she answered. “I
missed you, babe.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. He was crazy to be so jealous, but
he was crazy about her. “I missed you more, vita mia.”
“You all right?”
“Not really,” he replied, rocking his leg. “Why didn’t you tell me about
Kyle?”
She paused. “I didn’t think it mattered. Wait… How did you know
about that?”
“It’s all over the tabloids. What the fuck was he doing at your place at
midnight?”
“What do you… Mike, this is ridiculous.”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “I know. Amore, just…don’t hide stuff
from me, okay?”
“Stuff like what? Kyle waited for me to come home so he could get
some of his things. He didn’t want to let himself in when I wasn’t there
because the apartment wasn’t his anymore. He’s…decent that way.”
“Decent?!” He was past rage all of a sudden. “He gave the reporters a
very articulate statement about how the two of you are taking some time to
think things through and reconcile your differences.” He scoffed. “He didn’t
blink, Maggie, as if he had prepared the speech all along.”
She sighed. “Well, he did say something about not saying goodbye just
yet, but I didn’t know he’d do that.”
 “And you didn’t think it mattered enough to tell me?” He jumped to
his feet. “What the fuck?”
“No, because it doesn’t matter what others say or do as long as we trust
each other,” she said, her voice rising, too. “Or so I thought.”
He ignored her comment. “What exactly did you talk about? I mean he
stayed more than twenty fuckin’ minutes.”
“Mike, listen. All you need to know is that I told him that we’d never
get back together, even if you weren’t in my life.”
“Obviously, you weren’t convincing enough. Text me his number.”
“No!”
“Well, he didn’t have trouble telling me to stop pursuing you before. I
think it’s time I returned his call.” He regretted the statement as soon as it fell
out.
“Wait… What? When did that happen?”
He dropped on the next chair, running a hand through his hair. “After
the stupid talk show. He knew I was talking about you,” he muttered.
“Wow. And when were you planning on telling me this, since you’re
all about not hiding stuff from each other?” She stopped him before he could
answer. “You know what? Never mind. I refuse to stay another second in this
conversation.”
“Maggie, wait…”
“No, I won’t wait. And just so you know, in case you hear about it
from the fuckin’ tabloids, Chester Monroe asked me out yesterday, and I told
him to fuck off. Ciao.” She hung up.
Stunned, Mike gaped at the wall, the phone still on his ear, his head
barking with thoughts. As long as people knew Maggie was single, every
hungry vulture would want a piece of her. How could he stand arms-folded,
watching, pretending he had cold water running in his veins instead of
simmering blood? How long would it take him before he punched someone
like Burley or Monroe in the face, or worse?
The world had to know she belonged to him and him alone. But how?
Waiting out their movies would take at least a year.
 A year! I could barely make it through a couple of days in this
charade.
This not going public thing had to end. Sooner than they had agreed.
Then there would be nothing standing between them anymore. Nothing but a
mistake so far in the past that hopefully would never see the light.
“Mr. Gennaro, your agent is here.”
He flinched at the voice and the knock after. “Fuck.”
 Scene 44
Mike

“You’re a hard man to reach.” Andrea’s heels clicked on the steps as

Mike held the door open for her.
“Not really. You’re here, aren’t you?” He closed the door as she
stepped into the trailer. “You’re not my agent anymore, Andrea. You need to
stop telling people that.”
Her eyes raked him from head to toe and then swept the place.
“Head on into the office,” he directed.
She sashayed inside, took a seat, and unbuttoned the jacket of her gray
suit. A red silky blouse with a low hem emerged underneath, the cleavage
exaggerated as she bent more than necessary to put her briefcase next to her
leg.
Instantly, he looked away and sat behind the dark walnut desk. “It’s a
long way from L.A. to Newark. What could be so important that you couldn’t
say on the phone?”
“If you have been returning my calls, maybe I wouldn’t have to fly
here to talk to you.”
He linked his hands and rested them on his head, rolling his shoulders
back. “What is it, Andrea?”
She opened her suitcase and laid a stack of paper held together with
two big paperclips on the desk. “I want you to take a look at this.”
He threw a swift look at what appeared to be a movie script. “You
know I’m not considering new projects at the moment. I’m booked for the
whole year. And which part of you’re fired don’t you understand?”
“They specifically asked for you, Mike. They’re willing to pay an extra
five million,” she said slowly, as if the words would make better sense that
way.
 “And I have prior commitments.” He mimicked her slow,
condescending tone.
“Which part of extra five million don’t you understand?”
“Andrea, you know I won’t take this project. Why don’t you cut to the
chase and say what you’re really here for?”
She looked at him, her cold expression unchanging. “You know why
I’m here.”
He smirked. “No, I don’t.”
She crossed her legs, her eyes menacing. “End it with her.”
His smirk turned into a sneer.
“No one is going to approve of this relationship.”
“You won’t approve of this relationship.”
“Mike, this isn’t just about us. It’s—”
“There is no us.” He raised his voice. “Never was. Never will be.”
Her sickening grin spread over her mouth. “You sure about that,
Mickey?”
He leaned forward, hoping his gaze was convincing enough. “Hundred
percent.”
“I’m sure Maggie will have a different view on this when she knows
your little secret. She always does.”
If he had any respect left for Andrea, it was gone now, along with any
remaining shreds of friendship or gratitude.
“Think again, Mickey. This could end up really badly for you.”
“And you,” he pounced.
She snorted a laugh. “Excuse me?”
“I know you don’t give a shit about your family, but you sure care
about your job.” He rose from his chair, squaring his shoulders, and moved to
her side. “If you say so much as one word to Maggie that’s gonna hurt her in
any way, and I mean any way,” he leaned in, his eyes locked on hers, his lips
curling, “I swear to God, I’ll make sure you’ll never agent again.” His voice
took a harsh edge. “No, I’ll make sure you’ll never make another dime out of
this whole industry. Do you understand?”
She uncrossed her legs. “Are you threatening me?”
His hand grabbed the edge of the desk. “I believe it’s the other way
around.”
A dangerous gleam flashed in her eyes as she stood. “All that for your
little bitch?”
Anger came in waves now. “Who are you calling a bitch? This is your
daughter, you sick freak!”
“I don’t care.” Her hand slid on his on the desk. “She’s taking you
away from me.”
His hand withdrew as if bitten by a snake. “Get out.”
“Mickey—”
“Get the fuck out now!”
She shifted on her leg, giggling, and grabbed her briefcase. “You’ll
come around.” Her shoulder bumped his as she moved past him. “Read the
script and let me know.”
Sick to the bones, he shuddered as she left the trailer, bracing himself
against the desk.
He’d hoped he could keep the past buried, but he wouldn’t take
Andrea’s threats lightly. Even if he knew she wouldn’t dare expose him now.
Not after he’d threatened to take away everything she cared about.
Someone banged on the door. “Mr. Gennaro, makeup, please.”
“I’m coming.” He got his cell out of his pocket and texted Maggie,
asking her to forgive him, guilt pulsing through his veins. He’d just snapped
at her for hiding things from him, when he was the one with secrets. Now, he
needed to find the courage to tell Maggie everything and earn her trust.
Before she found out the truth—or the lie—from the wrong person.
 Scene 45
Mike

FOUR DAYS LATER

“Amore, you home yet?” Mike asked, his phone on his ear, his hand
flashing a keycard at the door of a hotel room.
“Actually, I’m staying at a hotel tonight,” Maggie replied.
“Hotel?” He took his hood off his head, getting out of his shoes. “Paps
that bad?”
“You have no idea,” she mumbled.
“Checked in with your name?”
“No. Samantha took care of the whole thing. I even switched cars from
set to here. Anyway, I took tomorrow off so we can have the whole day for
ourselves.”
“Um…thanks, sweetie. You really didn’t have to do that.” Biting his
lip on a smile, he checked his outfit in the mirror and gave his hair a light
toss.
“What? Oh, please tell me you’re still gonna be here tomorrow.”
“Well…there’s something that I need to tell you.”
“No. Fuck.” She huffed. “A week was too long already. Now you’re
staying longer? Shit.”
“Amore, you’re breaking up. Just call me when you get to the hotel,
okay?” He checked his chin to see if he needed a shave and decided it was
good the way it was. Maggie liked heavy stubble.
“I’m already in the elevator… Whatever.” She hung up.
He chuckled at his reflection, and then he brought a pair of black
sneakers from the suitcase on the bed and put them on. Waiting for her to call
back, he headed to the wardrobe and punched in the pin code to open the safe
inside. Then he grabbed the two jewelry boxes tucked in there and slid them
in his pockets. When his cell chimed, he jogged back to the dresser and
answered.
“So what the fuck was it that you wanted to say?” she asked, and he
could easily picture her face now. The hitch of her brows. The twist of her
lips. The fire in her eyes.
He laughed as he sauntered to the edge of the bed and picked up the
flower bouquet laying on it. “Um…is it safe to talk to you right now?”
“Not exactly.” She paused. “I was really looking forward to
tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry.” He left his room and started down the hallway, hiding his
face with the bouquet.
“So when are you coming?”
He stopped at a room down the hallway and checked the number. 511.
“Sooner than you think.” He took a deep breath as his fist knocked on the
yellow door.
“Give me a date.” He heard her feet approaching. “Shit. Hold on.
There’s someone at the door.”
“Does someone know you’re there?” He feigned shock.
“Not that I know of.”
He put away his phone and raised the bouquet at the door, hiding his
face from the peephole. “Delivery for Ms. DeVries.”
As the door opened, he lowered the flowers and grinned.
“Get the fuck outta here!” Maggie yelped.
Not the words I expected. He lifted a finger to her mouth. “Someone
across the street didn’t hear you.”
In an instant, she dragged him inside, locked the door, and mashed her
lips against his. His fingertips pressed into her back, fire burning through his
veins.
He paused, resting his lips on hers. The look on her face was priceless.
Everything a guy could hope to see in the eyes of the girl he loved. Love.
Passion. Happiness. Everything.
“I’m sorry for all the stupid shit that happened last week. Forgive me?”
he asked.
She grinned. “Absolutely.”
“I’ll never go anywhere without you again.” He pressed his lips back
to hers. Desire for her shot through every cell in his body, consuming his
every thought. “Never.”
 Scene 46
Maggie

I glanced at the flowers on the floor, thinking what a beautiful

arrangement of red roses it was and a complete waste of money. “Are those
for me?”
“No, for Mamma’s grave.” Mike’s breath was still catching. “Of
course they’re for you.” He rolled on his side, pulling the sheets up to his
waist while smoothing his curls off his sweaty forehead. “But you didn’t give
me a chance.”
“Well, what did you expect?”
His lips stretched with a lazy smile as he gazed at me. My finger
swirled around his curls. “You’re giving me that look again.”
“Well, what did you expect?”
“Keep looking at me like that and we’re due for an encore.”
His hand reached under the sheets and grabbed my butt, drawing me
closer. “Yes, please.”
“Aren’t you tired?”
“Not really.” His soft lips connected with mine. “But you are.”
“No, I’m not,” I protested.
“Yes, you are.” Shaking his head, he examined me with his eyes. “And
you’re even skinnier than last week.”
“No, I’m not,” I repeated.
“Yes, you are. I know every inch of your body by heart. Why aren’t
you eating?”
“I am. I just can’t seem to keep as much food down as I want, lately.
And I haven’t been smoking anything either, if that’s what you’re worried
about.”
 “I see.” He pursed his lips. “That means we need to find another way
to loosen you up.”
Smiling with mischief, I got on my knees, sheets falling off my naked
body. “Does that mean we’re doing that encore?”
“Absolutely. But let me give you your presents first before I forget
again.” He grabbed for his jeans, tossed on the floor.
“Presents?”
“I forgot to give you your birthday gift last week.” He brought out two
jewelry boxes and handed me the smaller one. “I couldn’t give it to you at the
party. I was going bonkers thinking you were marrying that fuck.” He shook
his head as if pushing away the memory. “Then we were on the run, and then
I went bonkers again.” He chuckled. “For all the good reasons, though.”
“Thanks, babe, but you already gave me the dress.”
“Which is no good now.” He pushed the box into my fist. “Go on.
Open it.”
He stared at me expectantly as I lifted the lid of the box. A gasp
escaped my mouth as I took in the pair of diamond baguette earrings set in
white gold. The diamonds were at least a carat each. “Oh. My. God. These
are…beautiful.” I touched them with the tip of my finger. “And obnoxiously
expensive.”
He looked at me, perplexed. “You like them or not?”
“I love them.” I leaned into his arms. “They’re just too much. You
don’t have to get me stuff, you know?”
He took my hand and planted a kiss inside my palm. “I wanted to. I
wanna do all sorts of clichéd romantic gestures with you. All the time.” His
gaze lingered on the abandoned bouquet on the floor. “Unfortunately, you’re
not the kinda girl that likes…romance.”
I blinked. “I didn’t know you were romantic. Like really romantic.”
“Guilty.” His shoulders lifted with a shrug. “My movies rubbed off on
me.”
“Okay. That’s new info. I-I can be romantic.” I labored a smile, feeling
his disappointment. He hadn’t had a girlfriend in eight years, and now all he
got was me, a girl who hated shopping, flowers, accessories and fancy
restaurants, and couldn’t care less about his entire list of romantic movies.
He laughed. “No, you can’t. You’re super smart, but you’re
romantically…slow.”
I grimaced. “Don’t give up on me. I can try.”
“Vita mia, thank you. Saying this alone is romantic enough.” He
brought my fingers to his lips. “But I don’t want you to be anything you’re
not. Not even for me.”
A warm feeling folded my heart, sending a genuine smile on my
mouth.
“I can be romantic for the both of us. All I ask is that you let me,” he
said.
“Okay. I can do that… I guess. Just out of curiosity, what gestures do
you have in mind?”
“Buying you flowers on the way home…” he started.
I should have just taken the goddamn flowers and thanked him. But,
like he said, I didn’t want to pretend or be someone I was not. Now that I,
finally, could be myself. With him.
“Texting you that I love you anytime, that includes mornings when I
wake up,” he continued. “Breakfast in bed. Taking you to the movies.
Candlelit dinners. Holding your hands in public. Dates on private boats.
Dates on private islands. Making love under the stars. Surprises of all kinds
including very expensive gifts for no particular occasions.”
I fanned myself, dazed. “That’s…a lot, and mostly can only be done if
people know about us.”
“You asked me what I had in mind.”
“You know you’re gonna have to wait like a year to do these things.”
“Don’t remind me,” he muttered.
I turned, placing the box on the nightstand. Then I looked at him over
my shoulder. “But I kinda…like…what you said you’d do.”
His eyes sparkled. “What are you saying?”
 “I’m saying…I want…all these things. And by want I mean I can’t
wait.” I bit my lip. “So, maybe, we do it after Black Sheep?”
He cracked a surprised laugh, crawling to my side. “Yes.” He gave me
a kiss that made me dizzy. “Yes, Maggie. I was going to ask you, to beg you,
to do just that. Grazie mille, amore. I can’t wait for it to happen, too.”
“So maybe we can, for the time being, practice some of these yucky,
disgusting romantic things. You know, so I can get used to them and not
freak out?” I might not be who he needed, but I’d die trying.
“We totally should.” He handed me the second box. “Happy
anniversary, Carolina.”
“That was creepy fast.” I raised my brows, glancing at the bigger
velvet box. “What anniversary? We’ve been together for a week.”
“Yeah. Our one week anniversary. Open it, please,” he urged.
“More jewelry. This is insane.” I opened the box lid with a sigh. Inside
was a piece of paper folded to fit inside the box. My eyes shifted toward him
as I unfolded the paper. “What’s this?”
“Read it.”
Stock Certificate
My eyes widened at my name written next to where shareholder was
printed, and Mondo M as the company name. “No fucking way.”
“You now officially own ten percent of the company,” he stated. “And
when we go public, you’ll have more shares. I couldn’t do it now ‘cause it’ll
be too conspicuous.”
“No.” I breathed out, light-headed. “No. I can’t take it.”
“It’s already done. Don’t freak out on me now.”
I looked at the certificate again. “You are freaking me out. This is the
kinda gift you give to your wife. Or when you’ve done something really
bad.” Slowly, I lifted my head from the piece of paper to him. “Have you?”
His eyes tightened. “First, stop joking about these things. Second, if I
cheated on you, would I let you be my partner forever?”
“Makes sense.” At least that part. “But why? It’s your company. Your
money. Why are you giving me a piece of it?”
“I just wanna be tied to you in every way possible. Any other way…”
he squeezed my hand, his eyes begging me to understand, “would give you a
panic attack.”
I felt all the color rush from my face.
“Hey,” he whispered and put his mouth on my cold lips. “If it were up
to me, I wouldn’t waste another second—I’ve already lost so many years
because I was a fucking coward—but I know you’re not ready, so don’t give
me that look, please.”
I nodded, my chest tight with labored breaths.
“I just wanted you to know that I’m in this for life.”
I gulped, sweat trickling down my back. “Thanks…for letting me
know.”
He blanched, too. It was his turn to panic. “Maggie, you’re not
gonna…”
I shook my head, my heart and breath steadying. “I’m here. Not gonna
flip or run away.”
“Phew.” He drew a hand across his forehead and threw his arms
around me. “You scared the shit outta of me.”
All my life, I’d wanted his love. And now that he was here, telling me
he wanted me forever, fear took over me. Fear of the future. Of commitment.
Of happiness. But as I relished his embrace, and his heart pounded with a
soothing rhythm against my chest, a smile triumphed on my lips.
 Scene 47
Maggie

The bed creaked as I rolled to meet Mike’s face. He was watching me

sleep—again. “You gotta stop doing that,” I said.
“I’m making sure you won’t disappear on me.” His voice and face
were alert. He must have been up hours ago.
“Is that a joke or a statement?”
“Uh…both.”
I kicked off the sheet and got out of bed. “Poor Mickey. Got himself a
girlfriend who’s mental as fuck.”
He laughed, and I rolled my eyes. “Hah-hah.” That was sarcasm, not
humor, you asshole.
My feet stumbled on the scattered clothes on the floor, which brought
my attention to the fact that I was wandering around the room completely
naked. Being naked with a man in bed was one thing. Strutting around nude
in broad daylight was something else—something I’d never been comfortable
with, especially sober.
Instead of picking up the first item to cover myself—like I’d always do
—I spun and looked him in the eye. He was staring, his breath hard and loud
in the room. And the tint of his growing cock against the sheet…
Okay. You’re forgiven. “I’m gonna hit the shower.”
I sauntered to the bathroom and closed the door but didn’t lock it. Then
I turned on the water, stepping into the oversized shower—four adults could
fit in here. The water was warm enough to build a little steam and wash away
the fatigue—I’d already been worn out when Mike came to my room
yesterday, but I didn’t mind losing whatever energy I’d had to him. Not at all.
Why hadn’t he joined me yet? Were my eyes not inviting enough?
I tilted my head to the back, the water sliding from my neck down,
tantalizing my nipples, images of Mike’s tongue moving in circles around
them forming behind my eyelids. Then I felt him. The rough fingers against
my back, following the curves of my waist, taking their time, making me
shudder.
“Thought you might need some company, Ms. Dawson.” His rugged
voice was even sexier when he whispered. Opening my eyes, I twirled. His
hair was longer, black when wet. The steam gave his flesh a glowing sheen,
so irresistible I wanted to lick the water droplets off his skin. My hands slid
down his wet chest, my eyes dropping to his dick jutting from within the
tangle of pubic hair, rigidly standing forward—it almost looked painful, but
so was the throbbing between my thighs.
His fingertips climbed up to my ribs, teasing between my breasts. I
traced his lips with my fingers, and he nibbled and sucked at my fingertips.
My breath caught when he rolled his thumbs over my nipples. As they
hardened, he put his mouth on one and his hand between my legs, spreading
them.
He dropped to his knees. His tongue licked along the folds of my
pussy. I tilted my head back and let the water fall over my face and hair, the
steam adding to the pressure building inside me as Mike sucked on my clit.
Opening me further to him, he slipped a finger inside, then a second one,
while his tongue drew circles around my clit.
I pulled at his curls, and his eyes rolled up at me. I wanted him. Inside
me. Filling me.
As if he heard my thoughts, he stood. His palms gripped my ass, and
he lifted me in his arms and pressed my back against the cold tiles. I wrapped
my legs around his hips, and his lips took mine in a blistering kiss as he
pushed inside me.
My lips parted for breath while his measured strokes ratcheted up my
desire to a new level. He swiveled his hips over me, grinding against me. I
ran my fingers along his jaw as he gazed into my eyes, his groans wild.
“What the fuck do you have down? Your pussy is…” he rasped. “I
can’t…” His voice broke on the two words.
A gasp seeped out of my mouth as he pulled out of me and braced me
against the wet tiles. Swiftly, his mouth was fucking me.
 “Did you come?” I asked.
He shook his head against my pussy. Then he lifted his head to me and
pushed three fingers, one at a time, inside me. “Stopped just in time. Gonna
fuck you right as you come.” His words were painful and tight, gritted out
between his teeth, and I nodded, unable to form words while I clamped
around his fingers.
I gripped his shoulders, pressing my lips together in a muffled moan,
pressure gathering low. “Now. Now, Mi-ke.”
My knees hooked behind him fast as he rose. He slid inside me,
holding tight to me as I rode out the stings of this fucking orgasm. It was
nothing like I’d experienced before. Not even with him. Different. Rough.
Good. I hugged him, pressing his hard chest to my breasts, as he gasped
against my mouth, his hands moving around my body with manic need.
“I love you, Maggie.” He pushed into me one last time, his head
against the hollow of my throat. Then he pulled out, moaning my name as if
he was breaking.
As I watched the bursts of his cum trickle down my thighs, my pussy
ached with new pressure. I trembled. “What the fuck? Shit. It’s not over.”
“What?” he whispered, his breath hitching.
My mouth covered his as I filled myself with his cock until I was
coming again. “You son of a bitch,” I cried out and slapped him. “You
fucking gave me a multiple.”
He gaped at me, putting my legs down, shaking the slap off his
crimson face. “You have an awful way of showing gratitude.”
Slowly, I came back down, blinking, and was able to think again. “Oh
my God. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I…I…”
He just kissed me, hard.
I was sure my face was equally red, with embarrassment, with
unbearable heat. “You did that to other girls?”
He shook his head, his lips curving with a grin, hot water streaming
onto him, onto me, our bodies tightly encircled by arms, with hands clasped
onto the other’s asses. “I guess there’s something about us that fits like no
one else.”
I couldn’t agree more. “I love you so much. More than I ever loved
anyone.”
“Is this the multi-orgasm talking?”
“No. I mean you’re giving me the best sex of my life, but it’s not just
the sex.”
“Good, ‘cause I don’t just love you.” He kissed me again. “I can’t
picture my life without you anymore.”
I saw the passion in his eyes. I also saw the fear. He was afraid of
losing me as though it was a given. Why couldn’t he trust me? Why did my
words mean nothing to him? Why…
“Carolina, there’s something that you really have to know.”
“Maggie!” Samantha’s high pitched voice disrupted the moment.
“Is that Devries?” Mike whispered with a grimace on his face.
“Maggie!” My manager’s voice approached the bathroom door. “You
in there?”
“I better go see what she wants or she will never go away.” I stepped
out of the shower, grabbing for towels. As I handed Mike one, the door
opened. “What the fuck, Samantha?” I glared at her, folding the towel around
my body as fast as I could.
“Sorry, but this is urgent.” She shrugged, no remorse in her tone, her
eyes fixed on Mike’s naked ass.
“I’m right here.” I snapped my fingers at her, and then looked at him.
“Can you move any fuckin’ slower? Cover the fuck up.”
I darted forward, practically pushing Samantha out of the bathroom
and into the bedroom. “If you ever ogle him like that again, you’re fired.”
“You won’t fire me because you’ll love me so much when I tell you
what I have for you. So stop being such a hot-headed Italian and hear me
out.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, my hair dripping on the refurbished
floor. “Spit it out.”
 “Andrew Callahan agreed to your date. I even pushed for an extra fifty,
and he said yes.”
My jaw dropped. “Shut the fuck up!” I glanced over her shoulder,
where Mike, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, was picking his
clothes up off the floor. I would never get used to how casual he was about
his body, but that was a different conversation. “Amore mio, did you hear
that?”
“Uh…yeah. Not sure I understand, though.” He threw his clothes back
on the floor. “Samantha, could you be a doll and grab me my bag from my
room? It’s right down the hall on the right. 516.” He winked at her, flashing
his signature smile, stretching two fingers at her with a keycard between.
“Sure thing.” She swaggered out of the room.
I bit my fingernail, arching a brow at Mike. “I know it’s in your
fucking blood to flirt whenever, wherever, but don’t do that in front of me.
You’re not the only one who’s jealous, Gennaro.”
“You got it, signorina.” His smile turned into a more genuine one, and
then his lips brushed mine. “What’s going on with Callahan?”
I pushed my hands together in tiny claps, rising up on my tiptoes. “He
made me an offer to direct a psycho-drama. He’s gonna pay me a hundred
and fifty grand.”
“Wow.” His eyes shone with excitement. “Congratulations, vita mia.”
He pressed me to his chest. “That’s fantastic. You have a date? I heard
Samantha say something about a date.”
I looked at him. “Yeah. The problem was he wanted to start after I
finished Robello’s. I told him we already set a date for Black Sheep, and I
also had Dark Hopes after, but the date wasn’t settled yet. He kept pushing.
Samantha kept pushing. I told him I’d squeeze it between our movies, and he
said yes. So the date is set, July 14, right after Black Sheep.”
He blinked, his lips twitching. “I see.” His hand ran through his wet
hair, smoothing it back, as he turned.
“What is it? Did I do something wrong?”
“No. Of course, not.” He glanced back at me, a faint smile on his lips.
“I’m sorry. I’m just surprised. I thought we were gonna shoot Dark Hopes
right after Black Sheep. But it’s absolutely your right to make that movie
since we haven’t set a date.”
“That’s the producer talking.” I approached him, linking my hands
behind his neck. “I wanna hear from my boyfriend.”
“The boyfriend is so proud of his girlfriend, a little taken aback
knowing he won’t be working with her all year as he hoped, and a little upset
that he only found out about this now. How long have you been in
negotiations?”
“Four days.”
He took a step back as if he’d been hit. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I could come up with a thousand reasons, but I opted for the truth. “I
didn’t know I was gonna get it.”
“So you wouldn’t have told me if you hadn’t got it?”
“No, I wouldn’t have,” I admitted, my arms dropping. “I don’t like to
be a disappointment.”
“Disappointment? Maggie, you’re never a disappointment. Not to me.”
His hands rubbed my arms. “You should be psyched about this offer either
way. Producers of all kinds are coming to you. Want you. Whether you get
the gig or not doesn’t change that.”
“Well, I don’t get psyched about things either, not until they’re real.
Maybe not even then,” I muttered.
He stared at me in disbelief. “Why the fuck not?”
“I don’t know. I should be really happy right now, right?”
“Don’t wanna sound like a twelve-year-old, but duh!”
My shoulders lifted with a hanging shrug. “But I don’t. It’s like there’s
an invisible hand stealing that moment from me replacing it with a terrible
feeling of unworthiness.”
Every time I’d accomplished something or something good happened
to me, a voice inside kept saying it wasn’t enough. It was nothing. I’d done
nothing.
 He grimaced, his hands on my shoulders, relaxing them. “How about
every time you have one of those God-awful moments, I tell you, remind you
of how accomplished, talented, beautiful and worthy you are? Would that
help a little?”
I let myself get lost in his beautiful, loving eyes and nodded. “It will
help a lot.”
Samantha came through the door, dragging Mike’s suitcase, her phone
on her ear. “Hold on a second.” She stared at me, pressing the phone to her
chest. “It’s Callahan. What do I tell him? Do we have a deal or not?” she
whispered.
I grinned, gazing at Mike. “We have a deal.”
 Scene 48
Maggie

I signed with Callahan at dinner, and on the way back to my room—to

Mike—I got a text from Robello calling for an urgent meeting at his office
first thing in the morning. A simple message, yet I received it with a pang in
my chest. Normally he’d call, and we’d have those meetings on set. He’d
never asked me to come to his office before.
It was probably just another managerial meeting, which could mean
budget cuts. Happened all the time. Nothing worth fretting about. But I was
so happy I couldn’t help worrying something would ruin it for me.
I’d signed my third movie deal, become a partner in Mondo M, and the
world would know I was Mike’s girlfriend in less than six months. I should
be enjoying myself and not let anything mess it up.
However, there was something else that troubled me. Mike.
He was about to tell me something before Samantha interrupted us in
the shower. Something important. Yet when I’d asked what it was, he’d
changed the subject; he said he wanted me to know he couldn’t wait for
Black Sheep to end so we would live together. An uncomfortable subject,
even if I wanted it as much as he did, that would get me nervous— on
purpose. Not a single forehead rub or a drop of sweat on his side, though.
Then he’d gotten me back into bed.
I’d ask him again and again until he told me the truth and why he had
to hide it. Just not tonight. Not when I could spend the whole night in his
arms and let his smile lift the weight of uncertainties off my soul.
 Scene 49
Maggie

Inside Robello’s office, I checked in with the secretary and took a seat
in one of the leather chairs. In a few minutes, he waved me in with a formal
smile. “Come in, Dawson.”
Dawson. Not Maggie or Kid as he would address me. Not a good sign.
Should I call him Mr. Robello now? He hated that. He’d always said Mr.
Robello was his father and insisted I call him Don.
As I shut the door, he dropped the smile. The pang in my chest
burrowed deep. I knew it. This was no regular meeting. What the hell was
going on?
He sat at his desk and fixed his eyes on me. “I called you here today
for a random drug test.”
I blinked, shifting in my seat. “What?”
He picked up a file and thumped it down in front of him. “It’s regular
procedure…and also mandatory.”
“I know that, and I don’t mind. But aren’t these supposed to be for
more than one employee? Why just me? And why here?”
He hunched over the desk, flipping through the file.
I stared at him, waiting for an answer. He was so tense the veins in his
neck stood out. “Don, what the hell is going on?”
A long sigh left his mouth. “Look, Maggie, you know how much I
admire your talent, but I’m afraid I’ve received some very disturbing photos
of you on set.”
“Photos? What photos?”
He sent some glossy pictures skidding down the desk in my direction.
They were photos of me on various set locations with lit joints and bloodshot
eyes.
 Fabricated photos.
I knew that because I could remember exactly which party each one of
those shots was taken.
My apprehension turned into irritation now. I hadn’t been in the
industry long enough to make enemies or build rivalries. Who would do that?
Go to that extent to get me fired? “These aren’t real. Who gave you those?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does!” Anger erupted inside my chest, and my teeth clenched
together so tightly my jaw ached. “Whoever sent you those wants to destroy
my career. I think I have the right to know who the fuck wants to do this to
me.”
“Maggie—”
“Look, if you don’t believe me, here.” I got out my phone and swiped
through the photo albums. Then I gave him the phone. “These are the
originals that were Photoshopped to make them look like they were on set.
They were taken months ago. You can see the date.”
He glanced at the screen then up at me, his lips pursed.
“And don’t worry, I’m taking the test. Got nothing to hide.” Thanks to
Mike, I hadn’t smoked anything since my birthday. My mind rumbled. Wait a
minute… “Is this what it’s all about? Someone is getting me for the Kyle-
Mike situation?”
“Let it go, Kid.”
I stood, and my palm banged on the desk, scattering the photos on top.
“No, I won’t. Who the fuck did this, Don?”
“It’s Andrea. Happy?”
I froze for a second. Then my ass plopped back down. “What?”
For several moments there was nothing. No noise. No words. No
reaction. The room was so heavy with nothing that I was choking on it. “I
don’t understand. Why…why would my own mother try to get me fired?”
He ran a hand over the back of his head and set my phone on the desk.
Then he held his own cell. “Listen to this.”
 A recording played with Andrea’s and Robello’s voices.
“My daughter is not well, Don. I’m so worried about her. This
business is not right for her. It’s going to make her relapse.”
“Relapse?”
“Her father and I hid this from everyone, but…Maggie is a recovering
addict.”
My heart sped up. Sweat broke out along my forehead, and for a
minute the world seemed like it was spinning with me sitting in place.
“I’m very sorry. I should have come to you earlier, but I thought she
was handling it,” Andrea whimpered.
I covered my quivering lips with my hand, stifling the urge to cry out
loud.
“Then I got those pictures.” There was a crunch of paper, probably of
the envelope where the fake pictures were. “Here. See for yourself. I don’t
know what to do. This girl is breaking my heart.” Andrea cried. “Don, please
help me. I need to get her out of this before it’s too late.”
I scrubbed at my eyes angrily, wiping away any potential tears in one
jerky motion. “I was never an addict. She’s…”
He stopped the recording. “I know it’s all lies. Mike tipped me off a
few days ago that she might do something like this. I recorded the
conversation and asked you to take the drug test to be on the safe side,
legally.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t think she’ll stop here. She’ll probably go to the tabloids, and
we need to be ready if things escalate.”
My lips parted in shock. “Why would she do this to me?”
“Why do you think? Your upcoming movies with Mike are the reason
he wouldn’t make the ones she’s bringing him. You’re taking away her
golden goose.”
“But I’m her only daughter.”
“Welcome to Hollywood, Kid. These standards don’t apply in our
world.”
Wiping my eyes again didn’t work. Tears streamed down my face, and
I wanted to punch a hole in the wall.
“Get it together, and don’t worry. We got your back,” he said.
“Thanks.” I sniffled. “Can I please have this recording? I think I owe
Andrea a visit.”
“Maggie—”
“Don, please,” I pleaded. “I need to do this.”
 Scene 50
Maggie

I shoved my way past Loretta. “Where is she?”

“Upstairs.” She closed the door. “What’s wrong? Are you all right?”
I glanced at the real kindness and concern in the housekeeper’s eyes—
the emotions I’d never seen in my own mother’s—so hurt and sad and angry
I couldn’t speak. I grabbed the railing and flew to my parents’ bedroom.
“Andrea!” I popped open the door, my eyes darting around the room.
My mother was sitting at her dresser, applying makeup. She could use all the
makeup in the world, but it would never be enough to hide this evil,
narcissistic face. Not from me.
“Maggie?” She barely looked at me. “What are you doing here? And
what the hell are you thinking barging into my room like this?”
“Why the fuck are you trying to sabotage my movie?”
“Do you think this is a proper way to talk to your mother?”
“Mother? You call yourself a mother? What mother tries everything in
her might to destroy her child’s career and reputation? What mother spreads a
lie about her own daughter being a drug addict?”
“Are you out of your mind?” Andrea looked at me over her shoulder.
“I can’t believe it. You’re in the middle of making your first indie feature and
already think people are jealous of you and out there to get you?”
A familiar pain resonated through my body. The kind I’d felt for years
whenever Andrea began gaslighting, putting me on defense mode, making
me feel low about myself.
But this time, I was too angry to take the bait. “Before you even think
about lying, listen to this.” I played the recording on my phone.
Andrea continued fixing her fake lashes as if she heard nothing. Then
she just sighed.
 “Aren’t you gonna say anything?” I demanded. “I can sue you with
this, you know?”
“Sue me?” Andrea finally stood and turned to face me. “You’re going
to sue your mother for trying to protect you?”
“Protect me?! From what?!”
“From this biz. You know nothing about it and don’t have the skills or
the experience to survive it. You’re too weak to handle it.”
My pulse thumped between my temples. Even my damn eyes seemed
to throb. My mind was dragging itself around in a circle struggling not to fall
into Andrea’s trap. There was no point in defending myself or convincing my
mother I was good enough for anything. “Even if you think that’s true, your
idea of protecting me is telling my producer I’m a fucking junkie?”
“Maggie, what you need to understand is that you belong in your
father’s company and with Kyle.”
“I don’t…” I gritted my teeth, my fists clenched limply by my sides,
fighting to regain control. “So this is what it’s all about. Mike.”
“Isn’t he what this is all about to you? You don’t really care about
making movies. You got in the business for him. To gain his attention and
make him fall for you.” Andrea smirked. “But he’s not for you, Maggie.
Never will be.”
I stared in the eyes assaulting me. “I’m making movies because I have
finally found a job that I care about and love. And I’m gonna make it in this
business whether you like it or not, Andrea.”
She stepped forward, closing the distance between us. “Come on. Be
realistic for once. You really think he’ll be with someone like you? He’s
Mike Gennaro, and you’re…you know.”
Tears accumulated in my eyes despite my efforts. “I’m what? Not
pretty or hot or smart or good enough for him or any other man or anything in
this world?”
Andrea rolled her eyes, her hands lifting in the air. “I’ve had enough of
your drama.” She spun and returned to the dresser. “When will you ever grow
up and spare me these ‘crying for attention’ spectacles?”
 “Me crying for attention? Yeah, right. Well, hear me out because I
hope to God this will be our last conversation ever.” I blinked the tears from
my eyes. “You can turn it all on me and feed me more lies as you always
have, but it won’t work anymore. Because today, when I found out you were
ready to destroy your own daughter for your own gain, I realized you’re
simply incapable of loving anyone but yourself. I have finally stopped
seeking your love.”
“Is this what you came here to say? Are you done?”
“I’m here to tell you to leave us the fuck alone.”
Andrea chuckled. “Do you even love him?”
“None of your business.”
“Well, if you do, if you really care about him, you shouldn’t make
those movies with him. You don’t want to bring him down with you when
you fuck up.”
The image of Andrea’s gaze in the mirror pierced into my heart,
stabbing between the cracks. Again, Andrea had managed to strip me of the
ability to fight in a confrontation I should’ve won easily. I was the one
wronged here, not the opposite. I wanted to tell Andrea I wasn’t going to fuck
up. I loved Mike as much as he loved me. We’d succeed together because we
cared and believed in each other. But the words refused to leave my lips.
“Goodbye, Andrea.” That was all I could say.
“I wish I’d aborted you when I had the chance,” she mumbled loud
enough for me to hear.
My eyes squeezed shut as I shook against my will. “Then why the fuck
didn’t you? You could’ve done us both a fucking favor!”
I stormed out of the house. Blinded by tears and rage and fissuring
ache, I barely made it half-way across the street when tires screeched, and I
felt myself flying and then rolling down a cold, rough surface. Pain cracked
into my left hand and shot all the way up my arm, followed by a painful
smack in the head.
Then…everything went black.
 Scene 51
Mike

“DeVries,” Mike called out as he dashed forward. He spotted her

blonde head peeking out from behind a security team posted in front of the
hospital wing.
She waved an arm at him. “Come.”
“Where is she?” he demanded, his heart racing, his eyes darting around
the closed rooms.
She nodded at a room on the far left guarded by two bodyguards. “I
arranged for security as you can see. Any reporters down there?”
He shook his head, running to Maggie’s room. When the guards let
him in, his heart jumped to his throat. “Oh my God.”
She was lying on a bed, her face and lips swollen, her arm in a cast, her
eyes and nose red. He rushed to her side and kissed her forehead and a spot
on her cheek that wasn’t bruised. “How are you feeling, amore? What did the
doctor say?”
“I’m all right. Don’t worry,” she said, her voice distant. “You didn’t
have to come all the way. Now, the tabloids will feast on us.”
“You expect me to sit on my ass somewhere while you’re fucking
hospitalized? Who the fuck cares about the tabloids?”
She glanced at him, her eyes vacant. “It’s just a few bruises anyway.
They said they’d discharge me tomorrow.”
He squatted next to the bed and took her hand in his. “Just a few
bruises? Your arm is in a cast.”
“Yeah, that too.”
“Where the fuck is that driver? I’m gonna kill him.”
“It wasn’t his fault.” She swallowed in pain. “I wasn’t paying attention
when I was crossing the street.”
“You should’ve let me come with you. You shouldn’t have faced her
alone. What happened?”
Tears brimmed her eyes as she shook her head. “It was terrible.”
He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and her tears turned into
sobs.
“You should’ve seen her face. That woman is sick, Mike,” she
whispered. “She wasn’t even sorry, like she actually wants me to fail, her
only daughter. As if I’m a threat to her or something. If I didn’t know better
I’d say she was even jealous of me. Who does that?”
A monster.
“I can still hear her in my head. The sound of her scoff. I can see the
roll of her eyes. The smirk.”
“Hey, hey!” He rubbed her back and squeezed her gently. “I’m here.
I’ll take care of Andrea. I’ll end this.”
“No.” She gasped a few ragged breaths as she pulled away. “I don’t
want you to do anything. No more talking. No more…anything with Andrea.
She’s out of my life for good. I told her that. I know you have business with
her, and I can’t interfere with—”
“Carolina, amore, I already fired her.”
“What?” Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “When?”
He thought she’d be happy about this news, but the lack of enthusiasm
in her voice proved him wrong. “After that night when you told me how
she’d been treating you.” He dragged the guest chair over to the side of her
bed and sat. “I couldn’t just continue to work with her knowing she…”
“But that was months ago. Why didn’t you tell me? Wait, is that what
you were trying to tell me yesterday, when you made up all that living
together shit?”
She knew all along I was lying? Sweat broke along his forehead as he
looked at his feet. Was now even the right time to have this conversation?
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but the whole Callahan thing happened, and I
didn’t wanna ruin the day.” He dragged his gaze to her face. “Andrea didn’t
take no for an answer and came to me a few days ago with a new movie deal
with an extra five million. She didn’t like it when I said no, and I figured
she’d do something shitty.”
She nodded. “I get it now. She lost her power on you and got all
worked up.” Her hand squeezed his. “Mike, you have to promise me you
won’t talk to her or do anything about what happened.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“No.”
“Why are you always tying my hands? Let me fix this. I know how to
stop her.” To destroy her.
“Then what? I don’t want another war. The only way to win with
Andrea is ignoring her. Not giving her the attention she’s asking for. If she
messes with us again, we’ll handle it legally, like Robello said, okay?”
“But—”
“Promise me.” She held his gaze.
“No, Maggie. I—”
“Please,” she pleaded. “For me.”
“This isn’t fair. You know I can’t say no to you. I just don’t want her
to hurt you again.”
“She won’t. I won’t let her. Promise me, Mike.”
He sighed in defeat. “I promise. And I’m so sorry about all this. I
didn’t mean for you to get caught in the middle.”
Her hand pressed to her chest, where her scar was. “I knew she hated
me,” she mused. “But I never thought she’d go this far.” Tears rolled down
her face. “It fucking hurts.”
“I know.” He rubbed her back, deciding to postpone telling her what he
really was about to tell her yesterday. She was in too much pain already.
 A commotion coming from outside the room distracted him for a
moment.
“Shit. That must be Kyle,” she said.
“Kyle? What the fuck is he doing here?”
“When I passed out, they called him. He’s the emergency contact on
my phone. I forgot to change it. I’m sorry.”
The door opened, and Kyle barged in, Samantha on his tail. “Maggie.”
He gave Mike a fierce look as he stalked to the empty side of the bed.
“Honey, how are you feeling now?”
“Don’t call her that.” Mike glared at him.
Kyle ignored him, reaching for Maggie’s hand.
“Don’t even think about touching her.” Mike’s voice took a harsh
edge.
“Mike, a word?” DeVries requested.
He glowered at Kyle, ready to pull him apart if he came near her again.
“I’ll be right outside.”
DeVries followed Mike, closing the door behind her—a gesture he
didn’t appreciate.
“Should I call her parents?” she asked.
Mike shook his head, his foot behind him pressing against the wall, his
eyes pinned to the closed door, his blood simmering. “Nick is probably out of
town, and from now on, contacting Andrea is not an option for any given
reason.”
“I see. Okay, uh…”
“What?”
“Some reporters followed Burley here.”
“That fucking asshole,” he yelled, and she urged him to keep it down
with a warning stare. “Did he talk to them?”
“No. He came straight to her room.”
 He sighed. “Well, I’m her best friend. I have every right to be here.
I’ve checked her in the ER twice before myself. You can use that story.”
“We’re gonna need some more visitors, though, to make this look
normal.”
Kyle stepped out of the room and stood against the wall opposite from
Mike.
Mike’s foot dropped. “Did you bring the press on purpose?”
“That’s what you care about? Maggie just had an accident. Her arm is
broken, and she’s all bruised and depressed, and all you care about is the
press? Your image? What about her?”
Mike stalked toward him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.
I care about nothing but Maggie. And if she doesn’t want the press saying
certain things, I make sure they don’t. Got it?” His hand fell on the doorknob.
“You only care about taking what’s not yours,” Kyle mumbled.
A wildfire raged in Mike’s chest. “She was never yours. Don’t forget
your place, Burley. You’re only here because she forgot to change her
emergency contact.”
“Yeah. Forgot. Keep telling yourself that.”
Mike pictured his fist connecting to the jaw of this cazzone. “If you
think she still has a thing for you, you’re delusional. You had your chance,
and you blew it. She’s all mine now, and I won’t let anyone or anything take
her away from me.” Mike looked at DeVries as he shoved a finger in Kyle’s
face. “He doesn’t get to leave or talk to anyone till we figure out this mess.”
Kyle squared off against him, and the dynamic changed. He was tall.
Too tall with broad shoulders and beefy hands.
Mike backed up a pace to compensate, anticipating a fight. This was
good. Really good. God, he’d been waiting for an excuse to take a swing at
this giant ass for so long.
“I don’t take orders from you, Gennaro.” He slapped Mike’s finger
away from his face. “But I’ll do whatever is best for Maggie.”
 “Like you know anything about that.”
Kyle twisted his jaw. “Arguing with someone like you is pointless. Just
take care of her. She’s not okay. That kind of stress and depression is a
serious trigger.”
“Trigger? Trigger for what?” Mike asked, losing his patience.
Kyle stared at him, studying his face. Then he shook his head. “You’re
even dumber than I thought.” He scoffed. “You keep saying you know her
better than anyone, but you don’t know anything.” He turned, withdrawing to
the waiting area. “Just take care of her, Gennaro. She needs it.”
 Scene 52
Maggie

“Are there a lot out there?” I motioned with my chin toward the
hospital main entrance where Mike rolled me via wheelchair. Samantha,
Kyle, Amanda, Raoul, and some of my movie crew trailed behind.
“A few,” Mike muttered, helping me with my jacket. “The sooner we
get this ex thing straight, the better.”
When the doors slid open, I blinked behind oversized sunglasses at the
lights of a hundred cameras. “That’s not a few.”
Samantha stepped ahead. “One at a time, please. Let’s all remember
this is a hospital, and Ms. Dawson has been in an accident and needs her
rest.” She pointed at a male reporter in a brown suit. “Yes?”
“How badly are you injured?” he asked.
The physical pain was nothing compared to what I felt inside. My soul
is bleeding. If only they had a machine to tell me how bad the damage was.
“A broken arm and a few bruises. The doctors released me and assured me
everything was all right.”
Samantha nodded at another reporter and another. The Kyle-Mike
related questions hovered cautiously at first. Lies and half-truths sifted
through my mouth whenever needed. All that media coaching I’d been
receiving finally came in handy.
Then the blunt questions came.
“Is it official?” A dark-haired female reporter asked. “Are you two
together now?”
I raised a brow. “The two of us?”
“You and Mike Gennaro. He’s standing next to you as we speak, while
your ex is standing in the back.”
“My ex has a name. Please show him some respect.”
 “Apologies. I meant Mr. Burley’s standing in the back,” the reporter
amended.
I cleared my throat and took a quick glance at Kyle. His blue eyes were
fixed on me, a sad smile on his lips. My gaze shifted back to the reporter.
“Mike, like the rest of the amazing people here, came to see his injured
friend. As for my…status, I am currently and officially single.”
“But Mike was here before anyone else.”
I shrugged, looking at Mike. “I don’t know about that. But knowing
him my whole life, I’d be very surprised if he wasn’t. He’s my best friend.”
My voice choked with exhaustion and emotion.
“Why hasn’t either of your parents come to see you?”
My heart squeezed. Mike must have noticed something because he
came forward.
“Okay. That’s enough. Thank you,” he announced. “And before you
jump to any conclusions, Ms. Dawson, upon my request, has kindly agreed to
spend the next couple days at my house to recover, instead of her parents’.
They’re out of town on business, and she doesn’t wish to disturb them. We
all know how busy Nick and Andrea Dawson can be.” He put on his industry
smile and wheeled me through the crowd.
 Scene 53
Mike

Two days later, despite Mike’s urges, Maggie went back to work. For
ten days, she did nothing but that. “I need to make up for the lost time,” she
had told him. But Mike knew better. She was drowning herself in work,
running from herself and the pain she didn’t want to face.
After long conversations with her doctors—the trauma surgeon and the
psychiatrist—they warned him this would happen. She was officially
depressed, which meant she’d work, eat, sleep and have sex too much or not
at all.
When she thought he wasn’t looking, she cried, and he watched
silently from afar, alarmed, Kyle’s words banging in his head; stress and
depression could be a serious trigger, but for what? He thought Kyle meant
substance abuse, but Maggie hadn’t touched weed or alcohol since. What else
could it be?
What did Kyle know that he didn’t?
At night, Mike never went to bed before Maggie, no matter how sleepy
he was. Sometimes, she crawled into his arms and slept there. Other times,
she curled as far away from him as possible. Although it bothered him, how
distant she’d become, he didn’t say anything.
Wait it out. That was his mantra now.
What hurt him the most was the times she woke up in the middle of the
night and locked herself in the bathroom to cry. Her sobs, her pain led
straight to his heart.
Tonight, he decided he would no longer stand arms-folded. He had to
do something. Anything.
He knocked on the bathroom door. “Maggie?”
He heard her sniffle. “Go back to bed. I’m coming right behind you.”
“Vita mia, just let me in.”
 There was a moment of silence, and then the door opened. Her eyes
were red and puffy, and she wrapped her good arm around herself. “Were
you up the whole time?”
He nodded. “Every night.”
She headed toward the bed. “You should take those sleeping pills they
prescribed me. They’re not working for me. Maybe they will for you.”
He followed her. “The antidepressants aren’t working either, I guess.”
She pulled the bed covers up to her shoulders as she slipped back into
bed. “You guessed right.”
“We should try something else.”
Her eyes flicked at him. “I’m still not in the mood for sex. I’m sorry.”
“I know, and you don’t need to apologize.” He sat next to her, and his
fingers stroked her hair. “I wasn’t talking about sex, Carolina.”
“If it’s not drugs or sex, what else can cheer me up?” Her lips stretched
in a sarcastic smile.
“How about talk?”
She stared at him, her smile gone.
“I don’t remember a time when we could shut up around each other. I
love that about us. We have no filters. We can talk about anything anytime.”
He drew closer. “I love to listen to you.”
“Me too.” She turned away from him. “But I don’t wanna talk about
what happened.”
“Okay. Talk about something else,” he prompted.
“Like what?”
“Anything that makes you happy.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever be happy.”
Her words stung, like a punch in the face. Was that how she really felt?
She’d never be happy, not even with him? What good was he if he couldn’t
make the girl he loved the most happy? If he couldn’t take away her darkness
and despair? He couldn’t be more useless.
 “I mean there are moments when I am…happy, especially with you,”
she added, and hope flickered in him. “Then I don’t know what happens. It’s
like the feature isn’t installed in my program. I’m sorry.”
“I wish you’d stop apologizing for anything and everything,” he said.
“You do that a lot, and it’s irritating. Not everything is your fault, amore.
You really need to start believing that.”
“I know. I’m trying, Mike. I’m sorry.” She shook her head, looking
away. “Shit.”
He chuckled. “You’ll get there.”
“Not in this lifetime, obviously.” She shrugged. “Speaking of time, I
think I should return to my apartment.”
He scowled. “What? No.”
“I was supposed to stay for two days. It’s been two weeks now.”
“Do you hear me complaining? This is the only good thing that came
out of this situation.”
Her fingers brushed the back of his hand. “Babe, you canceled all your
promotion tours and interviews to babysit me. You need to get back to work.”
“I don’t need to do anything but be with you, Maggie Dawson.”
She smiled.
He pointed at her lips. “What’s that on your face?”
“What?” Her hand rose to her face.
“Right here.” His finger touched her mouth. “Is that a smile? Like a
real smile?”
Her lips stretched into a grin.
“OMG, it is a smile!”
It turned into a chortle. “You’re one crazy son of a bitch.”
“A smile and swearing? Ladies and gentlemen, she’s back,” he
announced.
“Fucking pazzo.”
 “This pazzo missed you so fucking much.” Without thinking, he leaned
in and kissed her. Her lips were hot and soft and brought all the feelings he’d
been bottling down for the past two weeks to the surface. Pulling away, he
winced. “Now it’s my turn to apologize. I’m not pressuring you into
anything. I just really missed you.”
She stared at him for a few moments, a sparkle igniting in her eyes. “I
missed you, too.” Her eyes dipped to his lips. The warmth of her breath
scorched him. “I almost forgot how you tasted.” Then her fingers twined with
his as she pulled him into another kiss. “You shouldn’t have waited this long
to kiss me. I can’t be the one who makes the first move all the time.”
“I was…”
“Afraid.” She finished his sentence. “You’re always afraid, Mike.”
True. As long as he couldn’t find the courage to come clean about his
darkest secret, he’d always be afraid. But how could he tell her now when she
was like this, fragile and hurt? How could he break her heart even more?
Wasn’t it enough what she had to go through?
“And you’re afraid of nothing,” he said. “The bravest person I’ve ever
seen. Remember when you insisted you could catch a fish with bare hands?
You almost lost a finger that day. And that time when we were skating and
you went on that thin ice on purpose? You scared me shitless. Thank God
you only twisted your ankle.”
“Bravery is not the lack of fear. It’s the ability to face your fears.” She
put her hand on his cheek. “Neither of us can be called brave, babe.”
 PART THREE

HEROES AND VILLAINS

 Scene 54
Maggie

TWO MONTHS LATER

“Maggie, how does it feel now that you’re not a debut director
anymore?” Tracy, an interviewer from Entertainment Tonight asked.
“I’m beyond excited to start my second project.” I smiled. “Today, as
you can see,” I added with a hand gesture introducing the inside of my trailer
to the cameraman. “Though I kinda still feel like a debut somehow. I mean,
I’m currently, nervously, waiting for my first feature to premiere.”
“Do you have a release date?”
“April 18th Everything Under the Sun premieres at the Tribeca Film
Festival. That’s less than a week from now.”
“Congratulations. That’s fantastic news.”
“It is. I still can’t believe it’s happening. It’s like a dream.”
“As an experience, how is Black Sheep different from Everything
Under the Sun?”
“It’s different on many levels. I’m personally attached to Black Sheep.
Raoul Garcia, the writer, is a close friend of mine. I was there when he wrote
it, and I loved every part of that story. To be given the chance to transform it
into something you can actually see is…amazing.” I crossed my legs. “I’m
also so lucky to have such adventurous talents to work with. Artists who are
not afraid of change and taking risks. For instance, Mike Gennaro goes
through a complete makeover to play a villain for the first time.”
“A villain? That’s something you don’t see quite often. How are we
supposed to hate Mike Gennaro?”
“I know, right?” I leaned forward. “Well, the beauty of this script is
that only the audience can decide whether to hate Chuck Sullivan, the
character Gennaro plays. There’re a lot of gray areas here, and you may wind
up sympathizing or even rooting for him in the end.”
“That’s very interesting. I can’t wait to see this movie already.”
“Thank you. It’s a very emotional story and full of controversies.”
“Not to mention it’s packed with super sexy stars.”
“Uh…that too. Well, give a single woman casting approval, and this is
what you get.” I let myself blush. According to Lahey, Mike’s publicist who
had been media coaching me for the past months, a little awkward humility
played well on TV. “I never thought I could have that many handsome
superstars on one set.” A little humor, too. “Who are all conveniently single,
by the way. It’s very distracting, Tracy.” I made a face. “But I’m a
professional. I can handle it-ish.”
The interviewer laughed. “Well, you heard her, boys.”
“I’m still single, too. Just saying.” I shrugged. “Just saying.”
Tracy laughed again. “If you get to date any one of that stunning cast,
who will it be?”
“That’s a trick question. I can’t date any of them because I have to
manage the whole team. I think it’s very difficult to be the boss of someone
you date.” I still had no idea how I was going to do that with Mike.
“But on-set romances between actors and directors happen all the
time.”
“Um…yeah, they do. It’s mostly the female lead who falls for the male
director. When it’s the other way around, and you’re The Kid on set, I don’t
think the odds are in my favor.” I giggled. “I’m staying optimistic, though.”
“That’s the spirit,” Tracy squeaked. “Before we go tour this amazing
set, I have to ask you one last question. I know you’ve been asked this a
million times, but people are pretty convinced you are in fact Mike Gennaro’s
love interest—”
I tilted my head. “Oh, God. That thing again. Please don’t ask.”
“I’ll be fired if I don’t.”
“Okay. Whatever I say, people are going to believe what they want to
believe. Just ask yourself one question. I’ve been single for almost three
months, and I see Mike every day. If I was that girl, why hasn’t he asked me
out yet?”
“He hasn’t?”
“Nope.”
“Do you want him to?”
I took my time, as if I was indulging in a fantasy, easing my way into
it. “Who wouldn’t?”
 Scene 55
Maggie

I shot the first two scenes on the schedule—Mike-free scenes—

familiarizing myself with the new work dynamics, gaining momentum. Not
that it was less intimidating to work with some of the A-list stars in
Hollywood, but it was easier than starting with Mike. This project was much
bigger than the former, and he’d spared nothing to hire the best crew—I now
had four ADs for God’s sake—and build the most detailed sets. The last thing
he needed was a nervous director who didn’t know how to manage a big-
budget feature.
Black Sheep wasn’t just Raoul’s dream or mine.
It was Mike’s.
The giant leap that would turn him from a heartthrob into a serious
actor. A true artist.
He took a big chance on me, trusting me with that precious baby. I’d
be damned if I screwed it up for him.
I was giving last minute instructions to the 1st AD, a megaphone low in
my hand, when Mike made his first appearance as Chuck Sullivan on set. The
transformation compelled the crew to stare at him and clap with amazement.
Mike flashed his industry smile at them, his eyes fixed on me.
I stared, too. The makeover was over the top. He’d cut his hair since
the preparations, yet I hadn’t got used to it. The fake dirty teeth. The heavy
beard. The crooked nose. Even his eyes looked different. I saw Chuck, not
Mike. Not the breathtaking sex god I called mine, but the ugly villain who
was about to ruin everybody’s lives.
Great. That eased my nerves, and with every step he took toward me, I
grew more focused on the character and less on the boyfriend.
He rubbed his forehead. “What do you think, Kiddo?”
He, too, was nervous.
 I raked him from head to toe, letting him sweat for a second. Then I
looked around. “Ladies and gentlemen, meet Chuck Sullivan. The hero and
the villain of our story.”
 Scene 56
Mike

Mike removed his makeup while watching Maggie’s interview. Then

he walked into the screening room, hoping to catch her alone.
She wasn’t.
He cleared his throat. “Having fun, fellas?”
“Gennaro, what took you so long?” Jim Cassidy, his co-star, stopped
breathing down Maggie’s neck and looked at him. The other two co-stars,
Christian and Dwain, did the same as Mike grabbed a chair and sat next to
Maggie.
“Unlike you, I had a hundred pounds of makeup on me to take off,”
Mike said.
Maggie sank in her chair, snickering while chewing her fingernails, her
eyes pinned to the screens, her other hand pushing buttons. “That’s what it
takes when you’re too fuckin’ pretty.”
Jim nudged him in the arm. “Oh, look at that. The Kid thinks you’re
pretty, Mickey.”
Maggie pushed another button. “You’re all pretty, boys. Don’t get
jealous on me now.”
Mike bit his cheek, his fingers tapping the arm of his chair. “Can I see
eleven, please?”
“Oh, I’m not jealous,” Cassidy continued. “Unlike Mister Italy here.”
The other actors started laughing, which prompted the rest of the crew
to join the banter.
“Screw you, Cassidy.” Mike glanced at his face on the screen. “Mister
Italy’s latest movie opened with four-hundred million. What did yours
make?”
“Burn,” Dwain teased.
 “Dear God,” she said. “There’s too much testosterone in the room.
Starting tomorrow you’re not allowed in here together. I’ll send each of you a
screening schedule.” She rose from her seat, shooing the leads like chicken.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, I love you all, but get the fuck out of here.”
Cassidy pointed at Mike. “Why does he get to stay?”
“He’s the fuckin’ producer, Jim. Now, get out before I kick you in the
nuts.” She closed the door and returned to her seat.
Mike dragged his seat closer so she could listen to him when he
whispered. “That fuckin’ shit you said this morning in the interview can’t
happen again.”
“What’re you talking about? Lahey was psyched about that interview.
She said I did well,” she whispered back.
“Well…yeah, technically.” He shrugged. “But that was like an open
invitation, and apparently, none of them are reluctant to act upon it. Isn’t it
enough that I hear them swoon over you, describing the things they wanna do
to you?”
“That’s creepy,” she said.
“That’s it? That’s creepy. That’s all you have?” He was fuming now.
“I kicked them all out. What else do you want me to do?”
“Nothing, but I swear to God if any of those fuckers lean that close to
you again, I’ll punch them ugly. Let them say whatever they wanna say.” He
combed through his hair and got irritated when he couldn’t find much. “I hate
this fuckin’ haircut.”
She smiled, playing a different scene.
“What?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
His leg rocked. “But you wanna say something.”
“You’re hot when you’re jealous,” she whispered again, giving him a
quick glance.
He rolled his eyes, his lips twitching. “I’m not joking right now.”
 “Me neither.” She continued screening scenes. “Even with that hideous
haircut.”
“Fuck. I really can’t stay mad at you for over two seconds,” he said
under his breath, snapping at the buttons.
She moved his hand away. “Hey, I know it’s your dime, but this is
very expensive equipment. Take that anger somewhere else, where it’s
useful.” A mischievous smile danced on her lips.
He squeezed her hand, letting her know he understood. “You got it,
Kiddo.” He left the room, his fingers fast with a text. Where?
Her reply was swift. My trailer. Ten minutes.
 Scene 57
Maggie

“You were really angry.” My head lulled over Mike’s perspiring

shoulder, his naked body a silver silhouette in the dark.
“I’m not done with you. You’ve been a very naughty girl, Carolina,”
he whispered, his voice drugging.
I sat on the bed, staring at the wall thickness of my trailer bedroom,
Mike’s tender kisses soft on my back. “You soundproofed my trailer?”
“Mine too. I had them custom-made. I know how loud we can be.” He
chuckled, his arms tight around my waist, his tongue gliding up the back of
my neck.
“Is that something you usually order?”
“Nope. Discretion was never a requirement before.” He cupped my
breasts, holding them with a gossamer pressure. My body jerked in response.
“Besides, no girl can make me loud like you do.”
“Not even Patricia Sabatini?”
“What? How do you even remember her name? I broke up with her
eight years ago.”
“How can I forget? She was Miss Italy, and you loved her and never
had another girlfriend after her.”
He shook his head. “God, you really are romantically slow.” His teeth
nipped my earlobe. “Carolina, I never had a girlfriend because after I broke
up with her I fell for you and couldn’t have you, not because I was hung up
on her.”
I stared at him in shock, giddy, the revelation heavy on me. I am
romantically fucking slow. “I…” Was lost for words? My heart was about to
explode? My mind was blown away? “Shit.”
 “Si, si.” His hands pushed my hair off my neck as his mouth returned
to kiss me there. “And to answer your question, no, not even her. How could
you still ask me these silly questions? Don’t you know by now what you do
to me?”
He shifted his weight behind me, grinding his erection against my ass,
and I moaned. Perhaps I knew what I did to him now, but I had no clue Mike
Gennaro was unable to fall for anyone else because of me. His love for me.
How could I? This was impossible to believe. Even after these months
together. Sometimes I thought I was still in one of my fantasies about him. A
dream I’d soon wake up from.
“When did you know for sure?” I asked.
His fingers moved, gently pinching my nipples. “That I love you?”
I gasped as wetness gushed between my thighs. “Um-hum.”
“Guess.” His fingertips slid on my sides, teasing.
A quiver ran through my body. “And if I’m right?”
“You get to pick which private island we’re going to when we finish
shooting.” He edged two fingers between my thighs, and I hissed with
pleasure. “But if you’re wrong,” he added, his breaths shallow as his fingers
moved in a slow rhythm inside me. “I get to go with you to the Tribeca.”
The sensations he rippled in me scrambled my thoughts. “As…my
date?”
He laid me on my back and settled on top of me. “Your date.” He
sucked my tit. “Your maid.” And the other. “I don’t give a fuck as long as
I’m there with you.”
I laughed. “Okay. How many shots do I get?”
He rubbed his cock against my moisture as he kissed me. “One.”
“Just one?” I panted, my heart and pussy throbbing. “That’s not fair.
Not when I can’t focus like this.”
“I never said I’d play fair.” He pushed deep inside me, and I gasped a
moan. “Cazzo, come sei stretta, come sei bagnata. You feel so fucking good,”
he whispered, his playful tone now shuddering.
I gasped again, my fingers digging in his ass. My mind searched for
the right answer, not because I cared whether I won or lost—I was going to
ask him to the premiere anyway—but I wanted to know the moment Mike
Gennaro, the Italian Heartthrob that had every girl’s heart in the country
wrapped around his finger, figured out he was in love with me. “Okay, let me
think. When you broke up with Patricia, I was starting high school senior
year…”
“Yes.” He began with a slow thrust.
I moaned. “You were shooting that stupid thriller… ” Another moan
left my mouth as he pushed a little harder. “When you were done, it was…
spring break.”
“Yes,” he groaned as he picked up the pace. He kept his weight braced
on his arms so he could look at me.
I swallowed. “We went to Florida with you. You had a fight with
Andrea about which movie to make next. You were…ah…unhappy. Thought
about quitting.” My hands clenched around his ass. “We became best friends
then.”
His strokes were long and smooth. “Yes, Carolina.”
“You wanted me to go to the premiere…and I said no.”
He plunged into me, and I pressed back, the pleasure suddenly
overwhelming. “Mike,” I cried out. “Fuck me, babe.”
His arm moved behind my back, lifting me and sliding me a little
down. Then he bent, sucking my lips one at a time, his hand squeezing my
left tit. “I love feeling your heartbeat as I fuck you.” He slowed down,
delaying my orgasm. “I feel your pussy tightening around my cock. God, I
love your fucking pussy.”
His thick masculine voice and his way uttering dirty words poured fuel
on my desire. “You haven’t guessed yet,” he reminded me, breathing hard.
Who the fuck cares now?
“Okay… You didn’t make any more movies till I finished high
school.” I wanted to swallow, but my throat was too dry. “Then I told you I
was thinking about going to college in England, and then…” I closed my
eyes, and it hit me. He had told me he wanted to go to England, too, for a
year to take a break and think about his next move. Then when I told him I
got accepted there, suddenly, he changed his mind and signed for another one
of his romantic comedies.
That was the moment.
“Fuck!” I opened my eyes, almost into tears. All this time. All this time,
Mike.
His thrusts sped up, and I was almost there with him. Then I felt his
release inside me as he arched his back with a long groan.
That IUD was a great choice to make. I didn’t know why I’d been
denying myself the pleasure of feeling his cum in my pussy. Him coming
inside me drove me to my own orgasm. I bucked into him, feeling the damp
flesh of his lean, hard body as I clung to him with both arms and legs.
He lowered his head and kissed me. I was still shivering from the force
of my release. “Did you figure it out yet?” he asked.
“No. Maybe when I returned from college,” I lied.
A smile of triumph lit his face. “Wrong.”
“Shit. So when?”
He slid out of me and lay beside me, his arm slippery on my waist. “I
started feeling things for you that summer. When I told you I’d move to
England, I wasn’t going to think about my career. I’d already decided to stop
making those movies when you said you hated them.” He swallowed. “I was
going there to think about us. My feelings for you.”
“How?”
“I wanted to be close to you. I wanted to know if it was real.”
I blinked, my heart thrumming. “What changed your mind?”
“I didn’t need proof anymore.” His eyes glistened at me. “The night
you told me you got accepted and were actually going, I asked myself one
question. If you left and I stayed, how would that feel?” He pursed his lips.
“The answer was a squeeze around my heart that I’d never felt before, not
even when Patricia cheated on me. That was when I knew.”
I scowled. “Why the fuck didn’t you come with me?”
“You were fucking seventeen.”
“Don’t give me that shit. I was almost eighteen.”
“Even so, what was I supposed to do? Tell you that I loved you? Creep
you out? You called me bro. I was supposed to be…safe.”
I heaved a long sigh. “C’mon, Mike.”
“You’d have thought it was only sexual.” His hands went up. “I swear
it wasn’t. If I had as much of a flicker of thought back then, I banished it
immediately.” Shaking his head, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “And you
were a kid, starting out your life. You didn’t know what you wanted.”
I bit my lip so hard it hurt. “You’re slow too, you know?” My hands
groped for my clothes in the dark. “The AA wasn’t the only college I got in. I
got in Roma Tre, too. Did you really think I’d prefer England to Italy?”
“What?”
“You heard me, dickhead.” I got off the bed and jumped into my jeans.
“I chose England for you.”
He quirked a brow. “You had feelings for me back then?”
“Yes, Mike. I fucking loved you then. Even before that. God, I’ve been
in love with you since I was ten.” I shoved my arms in the sleeves of my shirt
and buttoned it down. “Do you realize that our lives could have been so much
better if we just…?”
I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. “You wouldn’t have made
all those stupid movies or become that guy who stuck it in anything that
moved.” I grabbed my jacket and slung it over my shoulders. “And I
wouldn’t have suffered for years stumbling to find something that I cared
about, enduring shit from everybody, hurting others in the way.” Tears rolled
down my face, and I wiped them with angry hands.
 He crawled toward me, pulling me to his arms. “I’m sorry. I’m so…so
sorry. I regret every moment that I haven’t spent with you.” His sigh fell hot
on my neck. “But I didn’t know.” His voice quivered. “I thought I was doing
the right thing.”
“I know.”
He held my head, bringing my eyes to his. “Forgive me, amore. I was
so stupid.”
“We both were.” I laughed through the tears. “But it doesn’t matter.
What matters is that we’re together now.”
“Now and forever.” He gave me a kiss. “And I won’t let anything or
anyone change that.”
 Scene 58
Maggie

9 A.M. TEN DAYS AFTER THE TRIBECA PREMIERE

I arrived on set before anyone else, not cranky or moody or hating life.
Even though the redeye from NY to L.A. was terrible, and I hadn’t slept a
wink last night, I had a silly smile on my face I couldn’t wipe off, a
screenshot of the award winners’ names on the festival website printed in my
head.
BEST NEW NARRATIVE DIRECTOR COMPETITION:
Best New Narrative Director — Maggie Dawson, director of
Everything Under the Sun (U.S.).
I stepped into my trailer and sat in a luxurious, leather recliner in the
media room, my phone in hand. This trailer is ridiculously cool. Mike’s the
best boyfriend ever.
Scrolling to the Tribeca website again, I checked the photo gallery.
The stars were glamorous, of course. Legendary. Then there was a picture of
Mike alone, looking fucking amazing in a silver suit. The caption next to it
read: Mike Gennaro took time from his busy schedule to hit the carpet for the
premiere of “Everything Under the Sun.”
Another caption caught my attention under a picture of Mike and me
together on the carpet: Maggie Dawson and Mike Gennaro made a great pair
at the premiere of “Everything Under the Sun” during the Tribeca Film
Festival.
There was another photo of us sitting together, laughing. I pursed my
lips as I read the caption: Maggie Dawson and Mike Gennaro looked like
they were having a blast at the Annual Tribeca Film Festival Artists Dinner.
I reclined in the comfortable seat, stretching my arms, wondering if
those were the official festival photos, the tabloids must have had a blast, too.
 Yet I didn’t give a fuck. I had no regrets. My first movie premiere. My
first award. If Mike hadn’t been there, cheering for me like a crazy football
fan as he did, that I’d have regretted for the rest of my life.
I quoted him in my head. Let them say whatever they wanna say.
Departing the media room, I heard some noise outside the trailer. I
looked through the window and found Raoul standing a few feet away.
Getting out of the trailer, I waved at him. “Hey!” He jogged toward
me, and I greeted him with a hug. “What’s happening? What are you doing
here so early?”
“Um…they sent me a text. A meeting to discuss some script changes.
What are you doing here so early? They said you’d be here at ten.” He was
sweating, and his hands couldn’t seem to find his pockets.
I arched a brow, the blinding sun irritating my eyes. “What fuckin’
changes? I didn’t make any changes.”
He stuttered some incoherent words, his eyes darting from one trailer
to another. “Let’s get you inside.” He climbed the steps into the trailer, and I
slammed the door shut when we were both in. “Can I have some water?”
I yanked the minibar open, grabbed a bottle, and tossed it to him.
“What changes, Raoul? And who sent you the text?”
He took an incredible amount of time to drink. Definitely hiding
something from me.
“Give me your phone,” I ordered, glaring at him.
He finally stopped drinking. “No!”
I patted the pockets of his jeans. “Give me your fuckin’ phone now.”
“Get off me, loca,” he squeaked. “It was Gennaro. He sent me the
text.”
My back jerked straight. “Mike?”
“Duh!”
My tongue twisted inside my mouth, anger and suspicion swelling
through me. “Call him.”
 “Okay.” He fished his cell out of his pocket and tapped on the screen.
“Speaker,” I commanded. “But don’t tell him I’m here.”
He shook his head, but he opened the speaker.
“Garcia. You here yet?” Mike’s voice was rough, like he’d recently
woken up and hadn’t yet spoken.
“I’m in Maggie’s trailer. She’s here already and mad about the changes
you said you wanted to make.”
My eyes narrowed in a fierce glare. Raoul cringed in response.
There was a long pause before Mike spoke again. “Maggie?”
“Where are you?” I asked.
“I’m…in the screening room.”
I yanked the phone out of Raoul’s hand and turned off the speaker.
“What the fuck is going on?”
“Nothing. I thought you weren’t gonna be here till ten,” Mike replied.
“So you thought you’d have a meeting with one of the writers alone to
make script changes?” I might have chosen not to officially take any credit
for co-writing this movie, but I was still one of the writers. And the fucking
director. Any changes had to be run by me.
“Carolina—”
“I’m coming over.” I hung up and shoved the phone in Raoul’s hand.
“You’re coming with.”
I stormed inside the screening room, but only the 1st AD, Nadine was
there. “Where the hell is he?”
Her beady eyes widened with fear. “He said to meet him in the
conference room.”
“Fuck.” My fists clenched.
“Calm down, Mags.” Raoul trailed behind me as I stalked away.
I pushed the metal handle of the door and blew into the conference
room—
 “Surprise!” The voices of a hundred people boomed the word at once.
I flinched, my feet slowing to a halt, taking in the grinning faces of the
movie team, the festive banners, and the breakfast buffet on the table. “Oh
my God, you crazy bastards,” I murmured, laughing.
“Congratulations, you wacko,” Raoul said through the loud claps and
cheers.
“Fucking changes, huh?” I slugged him on the back, eyeing Mike’s
face in the crowd as he winked at me.
“You caught me by surprise. I didn’t know what to say,” Raoul replied,
ushering me to the table as I thanked the friendly faces congratulating me.
Everyone was there, Amanda, Samantha, Lahey, Bailey, even Dad,
celebrating my success.
Cassidy hopped on the table, holding a megaphone, while Mike
elbowed his way through the crowd to reach me. “This was your idea, of
course,” I told Mike. “You and your surprises.”
“Me?” He shook his head. “It was them. I just helped keep you in the
dark.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I motioned for Dad to come closer. When he arrived, I
jumped into his embrace. “Thank you so much for coming, Daddy.”
“I’m so proud of you, baby.” He kissed my cheek. “I saw the pictures
of the festival. You were amazing.”
“Our beautiful Maggie Dawson has won her first award. Woohoo,”
Cassidy shouted in the megaphone, and the crowd broke into a roar. “The
only one in Hollywood who can take a week off and stays ahead of
schedule.”
Raoul rolled his eyes. “Don’t remind me.” He scoffed through a loud
hum of laughter from the surrounding companies.
“The only director who’s younger than all of the cast, beautiful as hell,
swears like a man, screams in megaphones, and still manages to earn our
respect before our love,” Cassidy said.
I laughed with the amused crowd, Mike and Dad each on either side of
me.
 “On behalf of everyone here,” Cassidy continued, “I’d like to say that
your team loves you, Kid.”
Right now, I had never felt more proud, confident, beautiful and loved.
A stupid grin wouldn’t leave my face, and my soul was dancing. Then I heard
it. The ugly voice that wouldn’t let me be.
No. No, please. Just let me have this. For once.
Just before the invisible monster could snatch me from my happy
moment, Mike lowered his mouth to my ear. “You’re the most beautiful
everything in the world.”
I focused on his smile to silence the voice creeping into my head.
“Look around you. Capture the moment in your head, and stay there
because you, my love, deserve it.” The look in his eyes banished my self-
doubt thoughts. “And I love you,” he whispered. “Everybody does. Is it
enough?”
Touching my scar, I nodded, assuring myself before him. “It will be.”
My eyes took in the scene before me one more time. “It has to be.”
 Scene 59
Maggie

SCENE 24: CHUCK AND CAMMIE LOVE SCENE

2nd AC clapped the third take of the shot, and the camera operator said,
“Set.” I took one last glance at Mike’s tense face and then looked at him
through the camera lens. “Action!”
“Stop crying, little girl.” Mike, sitting on a couch, hugged Celine, the
only actress in the movie. Twenty-six. Blonde. Big tits for her petite figure.
Wearing only an oversized, white T-shirt. Playing nineteen-year-old Cammie.
“I hate him,” she said, crying.
“You can’t hate your Papa. He’s looking after you.”
Celine broke the hug and left the couch, staggering. “Well, yeah, he’s
your friend. What else you’re gonna say?”
“When it comes to you, you know I don’t always take his side.” He
went after her. “But not this time.”
“Fuck you, Chuck.” She bumped her shoulder against his as she moved
away, then staggered again and almost fell.
“Easy.” He caught her before she hit the floor and laid her back on the
couch. He walked to grab a blanket but she caught his wrist and asked him
not to leave.
I held my breath. The last two takes had gone fine until this point.
Mike sat on the floor, tucking Celine’s hair behind her ear. “You’re
drunk. Get some sleep.”
She shook her head, bracing herself on her elbows, and pulled him into
a kiss.
“What are you doing?” He acted taken aback, but his eyes were void of
emotion.
 She put her hands on his face. “I love you, Chuck.” She leaned in for
another kiss.
He was supposed to tremble, show the struggle, leer at her lips, but his
blank eyes weren’t even looking.
“Cut.” I rested my hand on the top of a camera, looking at Mike.
“What’s the problem, Gennaro? Talk to me.”
He stood. “There’s no problem.”
I scratched behind my ear, breathing in patiently. “Do you need a
break?”
“No. I’m good to go.”
Good to go my ass. “Okay. Let’s see it. Nadine, get here! I want this on
camera.” I stepped in front of him as the 1st AD came up behind me. “Look at
me,” I told him.
He glared, his jaw set.
Looking past his disguise, I gazed at Mike, not Chuck. “I’m Cammie.
Your friend’s daughter. Young. Hot. Always had a crush on me. Give me that
look.”
He breathed in and gave me a familiar look I’d misinterpreted for
years. I smiled in response. “Good.” Taking a step closer, I looked at him
with desire. “Now I want you, too.” My hands touched his chest. “I kiss you.
How do you feel? Look at my lips.”
He swallowed, his eyes darkening with need and struggle, his lips
shivering.
“Excellent. My kiss gives you an erection. You want to bang me on
that couch, but you can’t. It’s taboo, which makes it even hotter. I’m drunk
and wet for you, telling you I love you. You’re struggling. Give it to me.”
His breath caught, his eyes dangerous.
I moved so close to him I felt his hard-on. “I’m wearing nothing under
that T-shirt. I kiss you again, my legs spreading. What the fuck you do?”
I saw the burn in his cheeks, the swallow of his throat as he leaned in,
his hand running down my shirt. The lust. Raw animal lust. “Wonderful.
Perfect.” I moved his hand off me, stepping backward.
He cleared his throat, rubbing his eyes. “Shit. Sorry about the hand.”
“No worries.” I knew I was risking people noticing by doing what I’d
just done, but there was nothing I wouldn’t do for this movie to succeed. For
Mike. My own convenience was a trivial price to pay. “Can you do that to
Celine, please?” I spun at Nadine. “Did you get that?”
Nadine nodded slowly, blushing, her beady eyes strangely wide. “That
was really hot.”
My brows hooked. “O-kay.” I looked around at the gaping faces of the
cameramen not behind their cameras. “What the fuck? Take your places.”
“Maybe we should take a break,” the DP suggested, snickering.
“Why? So you can jerk the fuck off?”
He bent his head and went behind his camera. “Sorry, boss.”
“From tucking her hair behind her ear. On your fucking marks.”
 Scene 60
Maggie

Seventh take, yet he touched Celine like she was a bloody corpse.
“Cut!” I growled. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Mike’s eyes flicked at me. “Don’t yell.”
“Then do your fucking job.” My hands flew in the air. “This is
supposed to be easy. Kiss. Touch. Take off her shirt. Get on top. Strip.
Pretend to fuck. You’ve done this a thousand times before. Why the fuck
can’t you do it now?”
He gritted his teeth, his index finger retracting in my face. Then his
mouth opened as if he was going to say something, but he snapped it shut and
stalked off set.
“Where’s he going?” My eyes darted to Nadine and the DP, and they
both shrugged. “Where are you going?!” I shouted after Mike.
He continued, not answering or looking back.
“Gennaro? Get your ass back here!”
His head jerked in my direction, his eyes giving me one audacious
look, as if he was giving me the finger.
Motherfucker. A tap on my shoulder set my head to whip back. Celine
was in my view, in a robe over her T-shirt.
“Do you want me to go talk to him?” the blonde suggested. “It’s my
first day on set, and we haven’t rehearsed this scene. Maybe we need to—”
Nadine dashed toward her, gesturing for her to stop talking.
“You need to what? Rehearse it? Alone?” My eyes narrowed,
examining Celine’s expression, the ugliest thoughts crawling in my head.
Celine shrugged with a frown on her face. “Sorry. I thought I could
help.”
 “Just go, Celine,” Nadine said. “Get ready for 33.”
The blonde was about to turn away when I held her arm and leaned in.
“I’m gonna ask you one question, and don’t you even think about lying.” My
piercing gaze leveled with Celine’s. “Are you fucking him?”
“No.”
“Do you wanna fuck him?”
Celine curved her mouth in response.
The woman in me wanted to break the arm I was holding. The director
had to let go of that arm and banish all the murderous ideas springing in my
mind.
Yet suspicion was eating me up. I didn’t know Celine well enough to
trust she was telling the truth. But I knew Mike. His word was the only one
that mattered. The question was, could I take it if the truth was as horrific as
the feeling in my chest right now?
“Nadine, push 24 and 25 for three hours.” I pointed at the camera.
“And I want this clip sent to Gennaro’s computer, now.” My eyes rolled at
the DP as I started. “Only Gennaro’s.”
“Come on, Kid,” he said.
“Shut the fuck up.” My hand patted Nadine on the shoulder. “Shoot the
rest till I get back.”
Maybe I wouldn’t be able to handle what he’d tell me, and my world
would tumble down. But no matter how painful the truth was, I had the right
to know it.
 Scene 61
Mike

Mike ignored Maggie’s banging on his door, his thumb pressing

buttons on the TV remote without thought.
“Mike, it’s just me. Open up.” She banged again, her little fists doing
an impressive number on the locked door.
He turned up the volume, knowing it was only a matter of time before
she used her key.
His eyes dropped at the key ring dangling from his lock as the door
swung open, the glare of incoming sunshine sliced by one form. Her form.
The body that had Mike Gennaro incapable of even faking a lustful emotion
for anyone else. “I’m really pissed right now. Please go away.”
She stood in the middle of the room, her hands on her hips, the door
shutting behind her.
“Please, go away,” he repeated, his eyes back on the TV, his nerves
breaking one by one.
“Are you fucking her?”
Her voice, her accusation made him madder than a raging bull.
Burning with something dark inside, he rose from the couch and held both
her arms. “You think I’m cheating on you?”
She glared at him with eyes made of fire and not a speck of fear.
“Answer the fucking question.”
A jolt of desire went straight to his cock. Madre di Dio. Even when she
infuriated me! His feet pushed forward until he pressed her to the opposite
wall.
He gripped on his rage and used it as a shield, for all he wanted was to
rip off her clothes and fuck her against that wall. “I already answered you the
first morning we were together. I made you a promise that I’ll keep for the
rest of my life. If you ask me that motherfucking question again, Maggie—”
 “What?” She pushed against him, her expression different. Not angry
anymore. Relieved, yet defiant. “You’ll spank me?”
Another shot of desire. Fuck. “Stop it!” He forced her back against the
wall. “Is this a game to you? Why are you trying to drive me nuts?”
“Why can’t you touch her?” she challenged.
“Because I can’t touch anyone else like that.” The veins in his neck
throbbed. “Not when you’re right in front of me, especially when you’re the
one holding a camera, asking me to grab some girl’s tits and show you how
much I like it.”
“It’s acting. Not real.”
“You’re not the slightest bit jealous that Celine’s lips are kissing mine,
that her hands will be all over my ass, that she’ll be naked beneath me?”
“No.”
He winced, his grip tightening around her arms. “If you love me like I
love you, Maggie, you won’t say that, ‘cause I know if the roles were
reversed, I’d flip.”
“Like I said, it’s not real.” She leaned forward. “But you don’t know
the vile things I wanted to do to that puttanella when she insinuated she
wanted to fuck you, Mike, not Chuck.”
Something wild roiled inside him. It was hard enough resisting her
when she swore in Italian out of jealousy. So she was worried he had eyes for
anyone else? Well, he’d make damn sure she left here knowing she was the
only one he wanted.
He smashed his lips against hers. Then he ripped her shirt off her, his
mouth sucking her neck, giving her a hickey.
He traveled down her heaving chest, feasting on the scorching skin.
His teeth bit her nipple against the sheer lace of her bra, and she moaned, her
fingers wandering down to his belt.
He stopped her, pinning her hands to the wall. “How bad do you want
it? How bad do you want my cock?”
She rolled her bottom lip against her teeth, her hazel eyes smoldering.
 “I wanna hear it.”
She shook her head teasingly.
“Fine. I’ll find out myself.” He shifted his weight forward, popping her
jeans open with a tug. No panties. Sheer bra and no panties. Fuck. She knew
how to make him lose control.
No. Not this time.
He eased two fingers inside her pussy, and she moaned harder. “Oh,
you want it.” He exhaled. “You need it.” He needed her, too; his dick was
aching inside his jeans.
He pushed his fingers in and out, watching her shudder. “Say it.”
“No.” Her pussy got wetter.
“Say it.”
“No!”
Her stubbornness made whatever game this was even hotter. He undid
his belt and the zipper with his free hand, giving his cock some freedom.
“Pull my cock out.”
Her eyes dropped to his ridged dick inside his boxers. “You want this
as much as I do. You get it out.”
“No.” His boxers got wet from her as he teased her pussy with his still-
covered dick.
She bit her lip so hard her teeth left marks when she stopped. Her
hands gripped his ass, squeezing. “Fuck me. Now.”
He’d always loved the authority in her tone, but in this moment he
needed to stay in control. “My cock is right in front of you. Pull it out.”
She groaned. “You’re an asshole.”
“I’ll show you how much of an asshole I am.” His thumb teased at her
clit as he shoved his fingers deeper.
She squirmed, moaning. “Fuck it.” Her hand lowered his boxers and
jeans, her fist wrapping around his shaft. “You gonna fuck me or what?”
He spun her around, lifted her hands and pressed them against the wall.
“Bend.”
She flipped her hair, tilting her head to the side, her eyes narrowing at
him as she spread her feet and pushed up on her toes, a position that flattered
her beautiful ass. He brought his cock to her entrance and slid inside in one,
swift stroke.
He didn’t pound or glide. He fucked. Deep, hard strokes.
“Yes,” she breathed, arching up.
One hand lowered to her tit, and the other tangled in her hair. He
flicked her nipple between his fingers as he fucked her harder. She screamed,
not holding back, saying all sorts of dirty words. So erotic. So incredible.
Her sounds of pleasure made him move faster, even deeper. As she
clenched around him, he made a deep guttural sound in his throat.
“Stupendo,” he ground out. “So fucking beautiful. Sei la mia putannella.”
“Yes, I’m your little whore,” she cried out as her body coiled tighter
and tighter. “Oh God, yes.”
He pushed his hips forward as she pushed back against him, her head
lifting and falling back against his shoulder. He spanked her hard, pulling her
hair. Then he pinched her nipple again.
“Please,” she panted. “Please, babe.” She screamed his name, her
hands pounding on the wall while she came. He followed right behind her
with a rugged rasp and one last thrust, an intense throbbing exploding from
within and spreading to every cell of his body.
Then he exhaled loudly, pulling out of her, and turned her around.
Their lips connected in a heated kiss as his arm folded around her back,
bringing their heaving chests together. He dropped his head to her neck and
inhaled her hair. “Other than spanking, I didn’t know you liked it a little
rough. Why didn’t you say something?”
“I didn’t know I liked it rough. I didn’t know I liked many things till I
had you, role-play included,” she replied, her breath huffing out.
“Role-play?” His head lolled back.
“Yeah. I felt I was fucking Chuck Sullivan. The control. The
roughness. Calling me your little whore… God, that dark need was intense.”
 He blinked, raising a brow. “You like Chuck Sullivan?”
“As much as I wanna say no, I do like him.”
“The guy is a killer.”
“Made into a killer when he was a kid,” she corrected. “He was
abused. Didn’t know any better.”
He nodded, chuckling. “So you were pretending to be Cammie the
whole time? The begging in the end? The Maggie I know wouldn’t do that.”
“No. That was all me in there. Like I said, I like things with you I
thought I hated.”
He sighed in relief. “Good. For a second there I thought I was being
played, another trick of yours trying to get me into character.”
She wrapped her arms around him. “This was nothing but Mike and
Maggie making love to each other in a different way, exploring a new side in
them they didn’t know they’d both enjoy.”
“You and your words.” He smiled, his eyes traveling over her. “You
need new clothes.”
She pushed him off her and pulled her jeans up. “And to get my ass out
of here.” Her feet dragged to the bathroom.
He stepped into the bedroom and went through a duffle bag in the
closet. “I packed a spare outfit for you.”
The sound of her giggle and running water echoed from the bathroom.
“Looks like you were expecting something like this would happen. Thanks.”
Holding a pair of pale blue jeans and a black shirt, he entered the
bathroom. She was fully naked now, her hair tied back, holding a
showerhead, water splashing her skin, and he wanted her again. “Do you
need help?”
She turned off the water quickly and got out of the shower. “God, no.”
Her hands were quick with a towel and then motioned for the clothes. “I
really need to get out of here. I can’t have Nadine shoot the whole thing.”
“Here.” He stretched his arm, handing her the outfit.
“I pushed your scenes for a couple of hours. I need you to memorize
those looks on the clip like the back of your hand.” She jumped into the new
jeans, and he mourned the loss of the view. “And feel free to use what we just
did. You can even pretend she’s me. I won’t object. I mean it’s exactly how I
pictured Sullivan making love.”
“That is disturbing on so many levels.” He frowned as she switched to
director mode in a split-second, recalling that stunt she’d pulled in front of
everyone. “You don’t seem upset about…that clip… I mean everybody is
gonna talk now.”
“After the Tribeca, everybody’s been talking already.” She shrugged.
“We’re going official after we wrap anyway. It’s not a big deal.”
He smiled, relieved. “So…you’re still shooting those scenes?”
She finished buttoning her shirt and gave him a reassuring smile. “I’ll
let Nadine do those.”
“Thanks.”
“But if you think for one second that I’ll let anyone shoot anything in
Dark Hopes, you’re dreaming. And that one has a full frontal.”
“And you’re cool with that? The whole world seeing your future
husband’s cock?”
Her expression stiffened.
“Don’t give me that shitty look. You know it’s gonna happen.”
Her lips twitched as she swallowed. “I know at some point you’re
gonna ask, but who says I’m gonna say yes?”
He stepped away from her, the look in her eyes a stab of heartbreak.
“So what? We’re still in tryouts? All these months and you’re still not sure?”
She rolled her eyes, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around
his neck. “No. I just wanted for once to stop your heart like you always do to
me.”
His heart did just that. “What are you saying?”
She smiled. “I’m saying that…I…want—”
“Don’t do that,” he said through his teeth, pulling her closer into his
embrace, a chill traveling though his spine. “Just say it.”
 She bit her mouth on a chortle. “I mean, when the time comes, which
is not today, not this year…I will say yes.” She leaned back to say more, but
he crushed her into his arms.
At this moment, he fell in love with her all over again. Tenfold.
“Mi—”
“Hush.” He closed his eyes. “Let me have this moment please.”
She yielded, relaxing in his arms without a word. When he finally let
go, she was smiling.
“I love you,” she said.
He pressed his mouth to hers, wondering if he could put all his feelings
into one kiss. “I love you, too.”
Someone knocked on the trailer door. Of all the worst times.
“Just pretend we’re not here,” he whispered against her mouth.
“Mike,” a repugnant voice he detested to the core called out.
Maggie drew back, pushing his arms away, her eyes wide. “Shit,” she
stage-whispered. “That’s Andrea.”
 Scene 62
Mike

Mike heard the jiggle of the door handle. “Fuck. You didn’t lock the
door?”
Stunned, Maggie shrugged.
“Hello?” Andrea called out.
He bit the inside of his cheek. “In here,” he shouted. “Give me a
second.”
“What the hell is she doing here?” Maggie whispered.
He rolled his eyes as Andrea’s steps approached, opening the bathroom
door. She had a big smile on her face that vanished when she saw Maggie.
“I said give me a second,” he said.
Her eyes stared at her daughter with fury. “I didn’t hear you.”
“That doesn’t mean you come look for me in the bathroom.” He
stepped forward, compelling Andrea to step back and out of the room.
Maggie walked out by his side, her expression sullen.
He held Maggie’s hand as he ushered her to the trailer door, worried
sick. The past two months weren’t easy with her depression. Work seemed to
be the main thing that got her out of it, and Andrea, just being here, was
already saddening his girl—and him. Andrea had just ruined one of the best
moments of his life, but he didn’t care much about himself now. It was
Maggie his heart squeezed for. He was sure Andrea was here to shit all over
the most important thing Maggie cared about. “You all right?”
“Whatever reason she’s here, it can’t be good,” she whispered, pale.
“I’ll take care of it. Trust me on this one. Go finish your work as if she
was never here, okay? Think of nothing but how much I love you and how
happy we are together,” he whispered in her ears, fixing his jeans. “Do you
want me to give you a hot kiss in front of her and piss her off?”
 Finally, Maggie smiled, shaking her head. “Just don’t take too long.”
He sighed when she left, his face contorting with agitation. He folded
his arms across his chest as he turned to look at the devil’s face in full
makeup. “I can’t believe you have the guts to show up here after what you
did. Do you wanna tell me what the fuck you’re doing here?”
Andrea spread her arms around the back of the couch, crossing her
legs. “I thought I told you to break up with her.”
“And I thought I told you to fuck off.” He grabbed a chair and sat
across from her.
“You just want what you can’t have. I get it. Forbidden love is hot.”
She smirked. “And even better, I won’t fight you over it anymore.”
His eyes narrowed. “You won’t?”
“If you sign the movie I sent you, I’ll let you have your fun with her,
even give you my blessing. Let’s see how soon you’ll get bored with her once
she’s no longer a taboo.”
“You’re in no position to be making demands, Andrea. I’m not just
goofing around with Maggie because she’s a taboo. I’m in love with her with
all my heart. We don’t need anyone’s blessings, especially yours.”
“You tend to forget, Mickey, that I’m the only one who can destroy
this lovely relationship beyond repair.”
He scratched the back of his head. “Looks like you misheard me the
last time. Do that, and you’ll have no career. The only reason I haven’t done
it already is because Maggie made me promise I wouldn’t.”
Her thin eyebrow shot up. “If you’re no longer my client, what
difference does it make? You’re my biggest account. My whole reputation is
based on me being your agent.”
“I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding a new eighteen-year-old and
turning him into a star.”
“I’m not interested in starting from scratch.” She uncrossed her legs.
“Not when I can still have you.”
“You can’t.”
 “Then you’re leaving me no choice,” she said. “A person with nothing
to lose can do whatever she wants. Hurt whoever she wants.”
The piercing hazel eyes held his with an earnestness that made him
want to turn away, yet he didn’t. Not anymore. His grip tightened around the
arm of the chair. “So let me get this straight. I make the movie you want, and
you’ll leave us the fuck alone?”
“Movies. Plural.”
“For how long?”
She sidled up to him and put her hands on his knees. “For as long as
we both shall live.”
Bile filled his mouth. Her fingers felt like acid on his body. A memory
he’d suppressed for years threatened to resurface, to ruin everything he’d
ever worked for, to rob him of the one thing he wanted in life.
He glared from her hands to her eyes with one thought in his head;
he’d no longer be afraid; he’d no longer be burdened by the face before him
or by his past. Nothing was going to stand between Maggie and him
anymore. Nothing.
He brushed Andrea’s fingers off his knees as if they were garbage.
“I’m sick and tired of your shit. You think you can come here, blackmail me
for the rest of my life, and I’d just stand still?”
“Well, what are you going to do about it?”
“What I should’ve done months ago.” He rose from his chair and
grabbed his phone. “I’m gonna tell Maggie to get back here so I can tell her
myself.”
She laughed, but there was a hint of something far from amusement in
her eyes. “You wouldn’t dare. If you had the guts to tell her, you’d have done
it by now.”
He held his breath as his finger tapped dial, everything inside him tight
and wound up like a spring. “Watch me.”
This was it. The moment he could win everything or lose it all. But for
Maggie’s sake, to rid her of this serpent that was poisoning both their lives,
he was ready to do anything.
 Andrea jumped to her feet, snatching the phone from his hand, her eyes
wide with terror. “Mike! Are you crazy?”
“What do you expect when you’re trying to take away from me the
only person that makes me sane? I swear if you weren’t her mother, I
would’ve killed you by now for what you did to me sixteen years ago. What I
haven’t even realized you did until the night Maggie told me about how you
fucked her up.” He stared at her, his stomach revolting with disgust as his
mind dredged up one particular night. The worst night of his life.
She winced, swallowing.
He watched the fear etching on her face as silence fell between them.
“Look at you, all scared now. Weren’t you blurting out about telling her
yourself a second ago? You’re so fuckin’ pathetic.”
“I never thought I’d really have to do it. We can’t tell her. It will ruin
everything. I didn’t realize what was at stake until now.” His phone boomed
in her hand. Her eyes fell on the screen, and then she blanched. “It’s her.”
“Give it to me.”
“What are you going to tell her?”
He yanked it out of her hand. “You’ll hear for yourself.”
“Mike, think about how much you’ll hurt her. She will never forgive
you. You’ll lose her forever.”
“Carolina,” he answered, boring into Andrea’s terrified eyes. “There’s
something important that I need to tell you. I wanted you to hear it from me
first.”
Andrea shook her head, her jaws clenched.
“Andrea…” God, how much he wanted to tell Maggie the truth.
Secrets were heavy. They pressed down and made it hard to breathe. Yet they
were so hard and sharp they hurt. And hurting Maggie was the last thing he
would do. If he could spare her the pain, even if it meant doing the wrong
thing, he would. “Andrea isn’t gonna bother us anymore,” he said.
Andrea allowed herself to breathe.
“Believe it or not, she’s here to apologize. She finally understood that
you’re so talented and our movies are gonna be great. Also, we agreed to part
on good terms. I’ll sign one last movie with her, as a farewell gift, and we’re
all good.”
“You’re right, I don’t believe it,” Maggie said. “She’d never say that.”
“Well, she did. She’s even gonna give us her blessing, not that we give
a shit.”
Maggie laughed. “That’s unbelievable. It doesn’t sound like her at all.
What did you do to her?”
“Nothing. She just realized she was gonna lose everything if she
wasn’t on our side, and you know how much your mother hates to lose.”
“Wow. Should I come over? I don’t think I’ll believe it till I hear it
from her myself.”
“You’re gonna have to take my word for it ‘cause she’s already left.
Anyway, I know you have to get back to work. I just wanted to tell you the
first thing. See you in a few minutes.” He hung up.
“Thank you,” Andrea whispered.
“I didn’t do it for you.” His eyes became level and steady on hers, his
features quiet, giving no sign to the psyche underneath. “Listen carefully, if
you ever threaten me again,” his nostrils flared, “if you ever touch me again,
don’t blame anyone but yourself for what happens. Do you understand?”
She swallowed. “I do.”
“Now get the fuck out of here, and never show me your fucking face
again.”
 PART FOUR

EIGHT MONTHS OF PEACE

 Scene 63
Maggie

SEVEN MONTHS LATER

I swiped through my messages as I waited in the VIP lounge, my

backpack and carry-on suitcase sitting next to me. Then Mike was calling.
“Superstar.” I smiled.
“You landed yet?”
“Yeah. You here?”
“I’m sorry, vita mia. I couldn’t make it to the airport.”
You’re so full of shit. “Oh. That’s too bad. Why?”
“I got caught in a meeting. I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll be home by the
time you get there.”
“Okay. Love you.” I saw Samantha coming back from the bathroom as
I hung up. “What’s the surprise this time?”
Samantha took a seat. “What surprise?”
“Come on. You plot these things with him all the time.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re my manager!”
“Sorry. He made me swear. My lips are sealed.” She nodded forward.
“Security is here. Let’s go.”
Escorted by airport security and a personal host who dragged my
suitcase, I hurried behind Samantha through the exclusive terminal, my
backpack on my shoulder, fixing my jacket. It was cold this time of the year
with the holidays approaching. Once we passed the secure and private gated
LAX exit, we were confronted curbside by aggressive paparazzi.
 Since the press caught my first public kiss with Mike—at the wrapping
party of Black Sheep—dealing with relentless photographers and people
asking for my autograph was the norm.
I had no idea how Mike had been doing this so effortlessly for sixteen
years. Or was it hard for him, too, and he was hiding it well from me? Just
like whenever there was anything troubling him. He still saw me as a kid.
Someone to love and protect. It was cute. Warm. Assuring. But I wished he’d
have shared more. Given me a chance to help him like he always did with
me. Or, at least, let me try.
I was asked questions on top of questions about my latest movie with
Callahan, and shooting in Ireland, and how it felt working thousands of miles
away from Mike. The truth was it sucked to the bones. So cold, and not only
because of the weather. I missed him so fucking much. Yet again, what did I
expect? He’d go to Ireland with me and do nothing but wait for me to come
home exhausted every night? Besides, he had one last cheesy movie to make.
Andrea’s parting gift.
I posed and smiled for a couple of photos before a black BMW pulled
over by the curb. The personal host put the suitcase in the trunk and opened
the door for me.
As I got in the backseat, Samantha ducked her head inside and winked
at me. “Enjoy.”
“You’re not coming?”
“No. See you next year. Happy holidays.” Samantha smiled and shut
the door.
What the—
“Would you like something to drink, Ms. Dawson?”
My head jerked toward the driver, and my skin prickled with
goosebumps. “Motherfucker.”
Mike took his chauffeur cap and sunglasses off, his beautiful curls long
again. “Missed your potty mouth.”
“Really?”
 “No, not really.” He laughed. “But I sure missed you.”
A year or so ago, we had a similar conversation. Little did I know that
when he’d said he missed me then he’d meant it the same way he did now.
Little did I know that I would be sitting here a year later, an award-winning
director and this gorgeous man’s epic love.
I hopped to the front seat and placed my hands on either side of his
face, pulling him into a passionate kiss. God, I missed those lips, that
scruff…
“Amore, we’re gonna crash.” He laughed against my mouth.
I slid closer, pressing my head onto his chest, his heartbeat a soothing
rhythm to my soul. Here I belonged. The right place to be. “I missed you, too.
So much.”
He kissed my hair and draped his arm around my shoulders, pressing
me even tighter to his body. “I should’ve come with you.”
“Yes. You should have,” I said. “I know it was Andrea’s parting gift
and had extra money in it, but she doesn’t deserve a gift, and you don’t need
extra money. You’re a fucking millionaire.” I shrugged. “But at least, it
worked. Andrea has finally kept her distance since.”
His stomach vibrated with a chuckle. “I bought you a gift with that
extra money.”
I lifted my head, but he pushed it back to him. “I can’t believe you
right now. You bought me a five-million-dollar gift?” I squeaked. “What did
you buy this time? An island?”
When he didn’t answer right away, I glanced up at his face. “Oh my
God, Mike. You did buy a fucking island!”
“How did you know? Am I that predictable?”
I picked up on the disappointment in his tone. “I was being sarcastic.
Oh my God.” A long sigh seeped out of my mouth. “Grazie, amore mio.” I
kissed his cheek and then the little hairs peeking out of his cornflower blue
polo shirt, my hands gliding under, feeling his solid abs.
His palm slid slowly down my back. “I hope you’re not tired.”
 “I’m not,” I whispered fast, trembling. If he let me, I’d ride him right
here. Now.
“Good. ‘Cause we’re taking another flight.”
My head bolted off him. “What?”
“You left me no choice when you canceled our romantic getaway and
went to Ireland for four months. I have to kidnap you before you think about
doing anything else.”
Dazed, I looked through the windshield and saw we were still at the
airport. “Where the hell are we going now?”
“Where do you think?” Stopping the car, he flashed his perfect teeth at
me. “Isola Carolina.”
My mouth parted, but his lips caressed mine before I could object or
speak or think.
 Scene 64
Maggie

“Wow,” I murmured, taking in the palm fronds and turquoise water of

the Belize Isle, listening to the sound of quietness. The waves chasing
playfully. The rustle of the warm breeze in the trees. “This is so beautiful.”
Mike landed a peck on my temple. “You’re beautiful.”
I took off my sneakers, ran down the short wooden dock, and let my
feet dive in the white sand. “I love it,” I shouted. “I feel like I was a sucked
into one of those Twilight movies—and I fuckin’ hate Twilight—but I don’t
care. This is how much I love it.”
He followed me. “I love those movies.”
I turned, giggling. “Of course, you do, babe. Of course, you do.”
His grin was even warmer and more charming in the sunset. He took
my hand and sauntered through the vegetation. “C’mon. Let’s see the house.”
As we reached the porch of a secluded, two-story home perched in a
lush rainforest, Mike pulled me up into his arms.
My lips parted with a silent gasp. “What are you doing? Put me down,”
I demanded, hoping he wouldn’t listen. I liked this. I fuckin’ loved this.
Every moment. Every gesture. Every cliché.
He shook his head. “Why don’t you be you, and I’ll be me?”
“You’re quoting James Bay now?”
“You love this song.”
I loved James Bay and “Let It Go” was my favorite song of the year. I
started playing it a lot when Kyle moved in with me, hoping he could take a
hint. God I hated those days. The song was awesome, though. I became
addicted to it. “How do you know? We never talk about music.”
He cradled me in his arms as he opened the glass doors and stepped
inside the house. “You never sing, but when it plays on the radio, I see you
sing along, and it’s the top played song on your playlist.” His eyes landed on
my face. “What do you wanna see first? The bedroom? The pool?”
I gazed at him, at how amazing he was, how much he cared, how much
he loved. “I’m looking at everything I wanna see right now.”
“Careful, Ms. Dawson. Looks like my tacky romance is rubbing off on
you.”
I chuckled as he began a house tour with me in his arms. The rooms
were open and wide just like I loved them, and they all enjoyed the stunning
water views. The full-size, bi-fold glass doors could be opened up to connect
the large balcony with the living room, allowing the space to a nice amount
of fresh air. The kitchen was spacious and fitted with all the latest appliances.
The lounge area contained a beautiful lounge suite and TV. The lower deck
had its own private infinity pool and a day lounge for relaxation.
It was more of a retreat than a house. A home with a difference. There
was no better way to enjoy the Isle.
Mike carried me upstairs to the master bedroom. It was enormous and
furnished with a king size bed. The side walls were made of glass. The view
of the waters surrounded the room. The other two walls were painted red.
Mike’s favorite color.
“There’re three additional bedrooms downstairs, in case you don’t like
this one,” he informed me.
“Don’t be silly. Just put me down and let me show you how much I
love it.”
He sat on the bed and brought me onto his lap. “You need to rest. We
have all the time in the world.”
I frowned. “I rested on the fuckin’ plane like you asked when all I
really wanted was to hear you groan my name.”
He sucked below my ear. “Yeah?”
A rush of heat flashed across my skin. My hands explored the lean
flesh under his shirt. “Hell yeah. Don’t you?”
He pushed me lower on his hips so I could feel his answer physically.
“All I’ve been waiting for, since you set foot on that plane to Ireland, is the
second you’d return,” he whispered, slowly undressing me. “So I can throw
you on my bed and thrust out every latent need and desire I’ve had for the
last four months.”
His breath came rougher now as I sat naked in his lap. He yanked at
the bottom of his shirt, pulling it over his head, and I stared at his beauty.
Lying back, he brought me to his mouth so that I was straddling him. My
breathing accelerated as he ran his mouth softly between my legs and then
inhaled. “Remind myself of how you smelled. How you tasted.” His tongue
licked inside me, and I moaned. “How you moaned. How I can make you
moan.”
I lost myself in those minutes with his head between my legs as he
devoured me. Owned me. Then for the next hours our bodies joined, testing
out the sturdiness of the furniture of every room in the house.
 Scene 65
Maggie

“Amore, get out of the water. The boat is gonna be here in an hour.
We’re gonna be late,” Mike said, holding a towel, his feet bare in the sand.
I focused on his face—not his perfect, naked, tanned chest or the black
swimwear hugging his junk—as I edged to the shore. “I don’t wanna go
anywhere.”
“Please,” he pleaded, making baby sounds.
I rippled the water with my feet in a protest as I came out. His eyes
ogled my crimson string bikini—something I’d have never thought about
wearing if he hadn’t literally begged me to wear it—one more time before he
wrapped the towel around my body.
“I don’t think I can handle another one of your surprises, Mike,” I said,
taking his hand as they started for the house.
“Who said anything about a surprise? We’re just celebrating New
Year’s.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re an amazing actor, but not with me.”
“Critics beg to differ, Ms. Dawson. They said Black Sheep has been
my best performance so far, and it is so because I’m an amazing actor with
you.”
“Stop it.” I climbed up the stairs that led directly to the master
bedroom from the beach. “I know you’re planning something. And it’s big.”
He opened the French door with a smile. “We had a deal, Maggie. So
let me do my thing.”
My eyes caught the sparkling evening gown on the bed as I got inside
the room. A new dress he must have packed with all the new clothes he’d
bought me for this trip. “Oh my God. You planned this even before we got
here.”
 He rubbed my arms, holding my gaze. “Vita mia, just don’t think too
much. I promise it’ll be fun.”
I dropped off the towel and stepped forward. He took a deep breath as
my damp body and hands touched him. “Maggie…” He smiled. “We’re
gonna be late.”
I took off my top. “That’s the point.”
His eyes dropped to my breasts as they tumbled free before him.
“Fuck.” His lips pressed in a tight line as if he was in pain. “I’m gonna go get
dressed.”
He practically ran out of the room.
Shit. I had no choice but to shower and put on the dress. A crystal top
with a sheer back and a red skirt with a huge slit on the side.
Dancing. I convinced myself we were going dancing to celebrate New
Year’s like he’d said. If I let my mind believe what my heart was telling me, I
wouldn’t take two steps out of the house without a panic attack.
Applying the final touches of mascara and lipstick, I saw his stunning
figure in the mirror. He leaned against the doorframe in a black tux, his hands
in his pockets, his eyes twinkling with admiration.
He was staring at me, drinking me in. I twirled, dropping my lipstick
on the dresser, and his lips parted slightly, reflexively, those beautiful eyes
darkening, going black with desire.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.
I smiled as I walked to him. “You too.”
He lifted my hand to his lips. They were cold, and so were his
fingertips. I couldn’t help noticing the slight shake in his hand, too. My heart
thudded against my ribs louder than the engine of the boat approaching.
“Our ride is here.” He ambled toward the bed and picked the sandals
matching my dress up off the floor. Then he nodded at the glass door. “Let’s
go.”
I followed his steps before my thoughts rambled again. On the boat, a
nervous smile crossed his face as sweat beaded his forehead, and I could no
longer lie to myself about the nature of tonight’s surprise.
 His hand squeezed mine tighter when we arrived at a local dancing
club in San Pedro. Perched over the water with no walls. A host in a long
colorful skirt and white sleeveless shirt offered us the two glasses of
champagne on his tray before ushering us to our booth. Even though the club
was packed, we weren’t mobbed by fans and photographers as always.
People didn’t seem to know or care who we were. That and the cool sea
breeze took the edge off my nerves. Just enough not to freak out already.
I watched other couples take the dance floor as the live band shifted to
a slower song. People were dressed up for the night. The tables, the bar and
the stage were illuminating with colorful light strings.
“Do you like it?” Mike asked, his fingers drawing invisible circles on
my bare knee.
It’s the perfect setting. Nowhere to run. I nodded, taking my first sip of
alcohol in weeks. Since I’d arrived on the island—my island—I didn’t feel
the urge to escape from my feelings or to shut out the world.
I should have been the happiest girl on earth. Mike Gennaro wanted to
spend the rest of his life with me, loving me, and I wanted that, too. My
happily ever after could start this very night. Yet there was something, not
about Mike, that scared me. A feeling that snuck underneath all the certainty
and the love.
That stupid voice wouldn’t shut up. It nagged like an old wound that
refused to heal. Reflexively, I felt my scar.
I wasn’t wired to believe such happiness Mike was going to offer
existed in the first place, and it was only a matter of time before it would be
snatched out of my heart without mercy. Which one hurt the least? Not
having it at all or having it and then brutally losing it?
Mike’s fingers traveled up my thigh, distracting me for a second.
“You’re nervous.” His lips curved. “Do you want me to do something about
it?”
I blinked at the insinuation. “Here? We’re surrounded by people.”
He pressed his leg closely to my thigh. “So?”
My heart pounded with a mixture of anxiety and excitement. I gulped
on the champagne as his palm pushed up the slit of the dress. “How fast do
you think I can make you come?”
My skin burned. “I don’t know. I’ve never done this before.”
“I say three minutes. Do you wanna bet?”
“No.” I shook my head quickly. It wasn’t hard to guess what he would
have asked for had he won. And he would win.
“Too bad.” He smiled as he set a timer on his phone with his free hand
and placed it back in his pocket. Then he slipped beneath the soaked lace of
my thong and slid his thumb over my clit, sinking into my wetness. His groan
drove me crazy. “I wanna spread you on this table and eat your pussy for
dinner.”
I stared at him, at the narrowing of his eyes, at his tongue licking his
lips.
“Yes, look at me.” His confident, firm touch built a heavy ache down
my sex. “I wanna bury my face between your legs and fuck you with my
mouth until I hear you scream my name and taste the moment you fall apart
for me.”
I bit my lip to keep from making a sound. He leaned to kiss my neck
below my ear. The wetness of his tongue sent a fresh gush between my legs.
When he leaned back, from the corner of my eye, I saw a waiter coming our
way.
“Mike?” I swallowed, torn between focusing on his touch and fretting
about the man coming toward our table.
Mike didn’t stop, his index and middle finger vibrating inside me.
“Look at him, he doesn’t know you’re about to come all over my fingers.”
“Oh my God.” I gasped for air, clutching the muscles of his thigh.
Wrong move. The muscles hard and firm, and they made me think of my
palm covering his cock.
He flashed his signature smile at the waiter as he refilled the
champagne glasses.
“Your food should be out in five minutes like you asked Mr. Gennaro.”
“Thanks.” Mike pressed his thumb hard into my clit, and I bit my
tongue, stifling a moan.
 I barely glanced up when the waiter walked away. “You already
ordered for us?”
“I knew you wouldn’t mind.” He lifted my chin. “Don’t take your eyes
off me.” He rocked his palm against me, stretching me to the edge. “Tell me
how you feel.”
“Slutty, like I’m doing something wrong, filthy.”
He pumped his fingers deeper, in and out, fast. “Do you like it?”
“Yes,” I gasped.
“Do you want me? Do you want my cock inside you now?”
“God, yes.” I nodded, my legs parting, my hand groping for his cock.
“Oh, you’re so fuckin’ hard.”
He gritted his teeth, taking my hand off him. “I’ll come in my pants if
you do that.”
My head fell back against the booth, and he licked my throat, sliding a
third finger inside me. My own fingers dug into his leg as my climax tore
through my body. I pressed my face into the shoulder of his tux, stifling my
cries.
He stilled before kissing my lips. “I love you.” He pulled his fingers
out. “Do you love me?”
I breathed out, gazing at his loving eyes. “I have never loved, never
will love, anyone like I love you, Mike.”
A grin lit his face as he got the phone out of his pocket. “When the
clock strikes twelve, I want you to remember what you just said.” He lifted
the fingers that were inside me and licked them one by one, watching me.
The view scrambled my thoughts, muting them. Even after what he’d
just given me, I wanted to climb in his lap and take all of him inside. I shook
my head, glancing at the screen. “Were you right?”
2:51.
His grin grew wider.
 Scene 66
Maggie

I put my concerns aside and enjoyed the night as we ate and danced.
Mike was an expert in getting me to loosen up.
“I’ll be right back,” he said.
I nodded and watched him go. The band finished playing their song,
and the lights were switched off in the club, with the exception of the
decorative string lights.
“Maggie Dawson, this one is for you.” Mike’s voice sounded from a
microphone, and I whipped my head in its direction. The lights came back
on. Mike was on the stage, sitting on a stool, a guitar resting across his thigh.
Oh. My God.
“This song is called ‘Hear Your Heart,’” he said.
Another James Bay song that I loved.
I took a deep breath as he started strumming the soft melody, my pulse
quickening. I was sung to once in my life. By a Russian drummer I dated
when I first returned after college. At a party that ended pretty much the same
way Tony’s Christmas party ended.
This time, it was Mike who was going to do it, the man I’d always run
to on these occasions. To whom was I going to run now?
The answer came quick. Quiet. Assured.
Him. I’d still run to him. Willingly. Happily.
As he started, his mesmerizing voice put a smile on my lips. The voice
that brought me to pieces and made me whole again.
He reached the chorus, his eyes intent on my face.
And I just wanna lay you down your burdens, all your fears
And I don't need your deepest secrets whispered in my ear
 'Cause I can hear your heart, your heart.
The words touched my soul as I remembered what he’d said on our
first night together. I don’t need to say it for you to hear it. He, too, could
hear me without words.
The song continued and fresh tears touched my eyes every time he hit
the chorus. Then he set his guitar on the stand, let out a big lung-full of air,
and stood up. I covered my mouth with my hands while the crowd exploded
with applause. His eyes took one glance at the clock hung behind him and
then fixed on me. 11:48 p.m.
He took long strides, rapidly closing the distance between us. I rose
from the booth and took the final steps toward him. “That was so beautiful.
Thank you.” My voice broke as he took my hands in his grip. Our lips
connected for what seemed to be forever, and the crowd cheered again.
“Can I have another dance?” he requested.
I nodded, my fingers wiping the last of my tears. We danced silently
for a few minutes, our hearts banging by all the things we should be saying,
until the countdown for the New Year started.
“I love you,” he said after we kissed. “It’s the first thing I want you to
hear this year.”
I put my hand on his heart, its pounding making its way to mine. “I
love you, too.”
“Carolina…you said not today and not this year. The year is over. You
know what I’m about to do, right?”
My breath snagged in my chest as I nodded.
“Would you let me do it? The way I wanna do it?” He grinned.
I could hear my heart hammering in my chest as I stared up at him. At
this instance, just as my love for him was the only thing I was absolutely sure
about, I knew exactly what I wanted. “I won’t have it any other way,
Gennaro. On your knees, with your hand on your chest. Tell me the best
cheap, sentimental things in your repertoire, but don’t quote from your
movies. I swear to God I’ll watch them all just to know.”
He laughed, his eyes gleaming.
 “Come on. Let's see if you can convince me.”
“Deal.” Determination painted his face. “From that night you said you
loved me, I’ve been counting the moments, waiting for the time I can get on
my knees,” he smiled as his knee touched the floor, “with my hand on my
heart, and ask you just one little thing.”
My face burned as his hand reached inside his pocket.
“But first…” He got a paper bag out of his pocket. “This is for your
panic attack.”
My whole body trembled with laughter.
“And this…” He brought handcuffs to my sight. “No, these are for me
in case you decided to run.”
“Oh my God.” I couldn’t stop laughing. “You came prepared.”
“Gotta learn from others’ mistakes. I must say I was really risking it
with the singing. It didn’t end up well with that Russian when he did it. You
dragged him to an orgy at my place instead of loving him back. Are you
gonna do that now?”
I giggled loudly. I just shook my head as I couldn’t speak at all.
He chuckled, getting a small jewelry box out of the pocket of his tux
jacket. Then his gaze locked with mine as he exhaled and opened the box.
I heard the people on the dance floor gasp before I did. They had every
right. The ring was dazzling. Blinding. Beautiful.
“Vita mia, cuore mio, I’ve wasted half my life making mistakes and
being a coward. I’m not gonna do that anymore.” His dark eyes glistened.
“You are the love of my life. I want to spend the rest of my days living my
story with you, Carolina. Only you. So here I am, with no cheap, sentimental
things or quotes from my movies, I ask you, Maggie Carolina Dawson, will
you make me yours forever? Will you please, please, please, please, marry
me?”
Without panic attacks or urges to run or dark voices in my head, only
one word rang through my heart.
“Yes.”
 Scene 67
Maggie

I sat at the table Mike set on the beach—our beach—while he flipped

steaks on the barbeque grill. My entertainment—and feeding—had become
Mike’s number one priority on Isola Carolina.
I relished the view of his ass in black shorts that matched my beach
dress as he grilled my food to perfection. “How much longer? I’m hungry.”
He turned, the gentle breeze playing with his loose curls. “Three
minutes.”
Ambling toward him, I smiled and then held him from behind. “I don’t
care about the steaks.” I gripped his ass. “I want a different kind of meat.”
He tilted his head and gave me a kiss. The heat from the grill was
nothing compared to the hotness of his lips. His cell buzzed in the pocket of
his shorts. He jumped, swiftly taking it out.
“Nominations out yet?” I asked.
He glanced at the screen in disappointment and shoved the phone back
in his pocket. “Not yet.”
“You don’t have to worry. It’s in the bag. I can tell.”
A pale smile touched his mouth as he placed the steaks on our plates.
“How can you be so sure?”
“I know I don’t have the experience to judge these things, but…”
He winced as if I’d misunderstood what he meant.
“…you said it yourself. The critics loved you. Your co-stars loved you.
Everybody on social media says Gennaro deserves to win this year. And I
was there. I’ve seen your performance. It was amazing. Not to mention the
standing ovation at the premiere.” I recalled the premiere night when I’d
taken an eleven-hour-flight to spend three and a half hours in L.A., two and a
half at the theatre, and one in the limo back to the airport, making love to
Mike and saying goodbye again.
“That was for you, Maggie.”
“C’mon. That was definitely for you, and in all fairness, for Cassidy,
too.”
He started toward the table. “I bet you’ll be nominated.”
A giggle burst out of my mouth. “A woman, with only three movies in
her resume, nominated for Best Directing?”
He shrugged, setting the plates down. “You’re the best director I’ve
ever worked with.”
“Liar.” I sat as he moved the chair for me. “You hated it.”
“I’m not saying you’re the easiest to work with. You take your job
very seriously, and you’re a perfectionist maniac.” He took his place at the
table. “But you’re definitely the best. You got things out of me that I didn’t
even know existed.”
I smiled, taking a bite of the well-done steak. “This is so good, like
always.” Another piece filled my mouth. “When you retire, you should
definitely open a restaurant.”
“We aim to please, Ms. Dawson.”
“I really don’t like it when you call me that. Maybe in bed, but not like
that.”
He dug his fork in the meat. “Maybe we should change that title soon.”
I put down my knife and fork. “It’s been two weeks, Mike. I still can’t
get used to the weight of that ring on my finger.”
“Is that why you haven’t told Nick yet?”
“Hell no. I just wanna tell him in person.” I noticed the anxiety in his
expression. “Mike, I don’t have any second thoughts. I know it’s out of
character, but I can’t wait to tell the whole world we’re engaged.”
He held my hand, his fingers brushing against my skin. His lips printed
a soft kiss on the back of my hand. “Thank you.”
“When are we going home anyway?”
 “You tired of here?”
I smiled. “Not really. I can live here forever.”
He took a mouthful of steak. “How many offers do you have?”
“How do you know I have any?”
He chuckled. “Carolina, it’s me. I know what you wanna say before
you say it. You wanna go home so you can take another project. And with
your talent and the hype around you, I say you have more than one to choose
from.”
My gaze drifted with the quiet waves, not happy with the tone of this
conversation. He was smiling, but I, too, knew him. Something was troubling
him, and he was hiding it as always.
Perhaps his nerves were getting the best of him because of the
nominations. When I glanced back at him, he’d stopped eating, his eyes
somber.
“Hey,” I said. “I’m not taking anything before Dark Hopes. I don’t
think I can take another four months away from you. I’m only asking if we
have a shooting date yet.”
“I don’t think I can take it either.” A line appeared between his brows.
“Maggie, I’ve been thinking…after Dark Hopes, I might quit.”
“What?” I asked in disbelief. “No fuckin’ way.”
“Well, those months when you were away sucked. I couldn’t bear it,”
he muttered. “And I know that you’d never ask me to leave work and come
with you wherever you go.” His fork clicked on the plate as he dropped it. “I
don’t want a long-distance relationship. I wanna be with you every day.
Something’s gotta give.” He shrugged. “I’ve had a career. You’re just
starting—”
“Let me stop you right here.” I leaned forward. “Not going to fucking
happen.”
“Maggie—”
“End of story, Mike.” I pushed my chair away as I rose, his phone
ringing. “Answer the damn thing.”
 “Where are you going?” His footsteps came heavy on the sand behind
me.
“I’m not hungry anymore.”
He swore as I stalked to the house. Then my phone rang, too. I stopped
to see who was calling. Samantha. In my peripheral vision, Mike was
answering his.
I decided to ignore my manager’s call and go back to my room. Mike’s
foolish idea had killed every positive thought and vibe in me. I slumped on
the bed, took off my sandals, and bent my knees up to my chest. Then I cried.
“Maggie…” The French door opened, and sultry, salty air swirled into
the room. “Are you crying?” He ran to me. “Amore?” His knees touched the
floor as he made me look at him. “Why?”
My lips quivered. “’Cause you made me feel like shit.”
He stared at me in shock. “What? I don’t understand. What did I do?”
“You do everything in your power to make me happy, to make me
better, to help me achieve all my goals and dreams, and what do I do?” Tears
flooded out of my eyes. “Make you wanna sacrifice the only thing that you
love. Make you miserable. Suck the life out of you.”
“No, vita mia. You got this all wrong,” he said. “When I said I’d quit I
wasn’t making a sacrifice. I’m doing it because I know I’ll be happier that
way.”
“How? How?!”
“Before you, all this, the success, the fame, the goals, the dreams, the
ambition, was all I had. But now, it’s lost its value. It’s shit compared to how
I feel when I’m with you, touching you, feeling you here next to me. That’s
how happy you make me feel, Maggie. Everything else is nothing when I can
have you.”
“I’m supposed to make you better, too. Not the opposite.” I tasted the
salt from my tears as they dripped across my lips. “You’re finally starting to
live up to your potential and you wanna…” My voice cracked.
“You’re not listening. You do make me better. A year ago, I was stuck
in an endless circle, and you got me out of it. Without you, I wouldn’t have
had the contest or Mondo M or Black Sheep. From the day I told Andrea to
bring me different movies to the night I declared my love for you on TV and
stopped being a sleazy fucker, it’s all been for you and because of you.”
“Mike, please…”
“I am only a better man today because you’re with me.” A small smile
tugged the corners of his lips. “Remember that night when you told me I
needed therapy?”
I nodded. “And you never went.”
“Because I don’t need it anymore. You are my therapy, Maggie.”
“Like hell I am! When you want to quit because of me, then you do
need therapy.”
He sighed. “Look, if it hurts you this much, I won’t do it. I’ll take
projects when you’re free to come with. Or I’ll just work exclusively with
you. How about that?”
I snorted in response, my tears wouldn’t stop.
“Carolina, please stop crying.” He pulled me into a comforting
embrace. “When I see your tears I feel like I’m not a man.”
“Promise me you won’t quit. No matter what.”
“Will it make you stop crying?”
“Yes.”
“Then I promise.”
I pulled him tighter, and then crushed my lips to his. “I love you.”
He smiled, running his thumbs under my eyes as my phone vibrated.
“You should take this call.”
“No.” I wasn’t in the mood to do anything or talk to anyone.
“Trust me.”
I looked at him in wonder. “What is it?”
“Just answer.”
I huffed, grabbed the damn phone, and turned the speaker on.
“Samantha, this is not a good time.”
“Well, it’s about to be. The nominations are out,” the manager said.
My heart skipped a beat. My eyes flicked at Mike as his lips were
stretching into a grin. “Best Actor, right? I fucking knew it!” I squealed and
crushed my mouth to Mike’s again.
“That and two more actually,” Samantha said.
My mouth fell open. “Oh my God.” I bent my legs under me. “Let me
guess, Cassidy for Best Supporting, too?”
“You guessed right,” the manager replied.
“What’s the third?” I looked at Mike, who winked at me.
“Best Directing.”
I felt all the blood rush out of my body and then pump back in all at
once. “HOLY FUCK!”
“Congratulations, Kid. You’re the sixth woman ever nominated in the
category,” Samantha said.
I yelped sounds only dogs could hear as I stood on the bed, glancing
down at Mike. “Did you hear that?! Did you fucking hear that?!”
He broke into laughter as I started jumping on the bed. “Si, amore. I
heard.”
“Ah…Gennaro, don’t let her hurt herself,” Samantha said.
He grabbed my legs and brought me down to his lap. “Don’t worry. I
got her.”
“You both realize you need to come back to do press?”
“Not now, Sam. We got something more important to do.” I peeled my
dress off my body and got Mike out of his shorts. His dick was already hard,
and I moaned loudly as I took him inside me.
“Dear God. You guys are really doing it while I’m on the… Okay. See
ya.”
 Scene 68
Maggie

ACADEMY AWARDS CEREMONY DAY 10 A.M.

I walked down the hallway of the new floor of Dad’s company

quarters. At the reception, they told me he’d moved his office to the top floor
—this floor. The spacious atrium and travertine floors were breathtaking,
illuminated by natural light coming through floor-to-ceiling windows and
skylights.
I moved past the few faces working on a Sunday, not seeing any of my
past workmates, until I reached Dad’s outer reception area.
Anna, Dad’s secretary, rose from behind the counter. “Maggie,” she
sang. “We haven’t seen you in ages.” Her large eyes dropped, studying
through my black and red winter dress and black boots. “You look amazing.
Nice tan!”
“Thank you.” I smiled.
“How’s Hollywood treating you, girl? I’ve seen Black Sheep, by the
way. Marvelous. Can I have your autograph?” She grabbed a piece of paper
and a pen from the countertop and pushed them in my face.
“Sure.” I signed the colored piece of paper, and before Anna could
open her mouth again, I asked, “Is Dad free?”
“He’s wrapping up a meeting. “Anna’s eyes fell wide on the rock on
my finger. “OMG, did you get engaged?”
“Could you keep it down, please?” I looked around to see if anyone
was listening. “I haven’t told anyone just yet. I want Dad to be the first to
know.”
“Of course. Are you announcing it at the Oscars tonight?” Anna looked
out of breath. “That’s so exciting. Congratulations.” She pulled me into a
hug.
 “Thank…you.” I twisted my lips. The whole company would know
about my engagement in seconds. The woman was a walking chatterbox.
Large metal doors separating Dad’s office from the outer reception
area opened, and he emerged behind several men in suits stepping out of the
room. He smiled when he saw me and motioned for me to come inside.
“Good to see you, Anna.” I stepped away from the counter and walked
into his office, a corner suite with seamless windows and polished marble
floor gleaming in the full sun.
He hugged me and closed the door. “That’s a nice surprise. When did
you get back from Belize?”
“Three weeks ago,” I answered. “Are you busy?”
“Uh…yes, but I think I can spare a few minutes for my daughter,
whom I haven’t seen in six months.” He adjusted his gray tie on his burgundy
dress shirt as he sat down on a couch. “Sit.”
I smiled sheepishly. “I’ve been trying to see you since I got back, but
you were out of town.”
“You know me. Work, work, work. I can’t even get a Sunday off, and I
have to go on another business trip to Dubai tonight.”
“There’s something that I need to tell you before you hear it from the
news.”
“If you mean the Oscars, it’s too late. I already know. Congratulations.
I understand how big that is.”
I chuckled, taking a seat next to him, the leather cold on my back.
“Actually—”
“I’m also not blind.” He took my hand, letting out a long breath.
“Mike?”
There was an uneasy look in his eyes that made me swallow. “Yes.
Who else?”
He nodded, pursing his lips. “Is there anything I can say to change
your mind?”
“What?” My brows hooked so tight it hurt. Where the hell was that
coming from? “Since when don’t you approve of Mike? He’s your friend.”
“He’s your mother’s friend, not mine. I never liked the guy. I just put
up with him being in our life.”
I blinked, my head spiraling. “That’s… I don’t know what to say.”
“You’re my baby girl, Maggie. I’ve always hoped you’d choose better.
You deserve better. Gennaro is—”
“Is what, Dad?” I jumped to my feet.
“A filthy womanizer, to say the least.”
“Okay. Um…I really didn’t expect that from you.” Had coming here
been a mistake?
He rose and touched my arms. “How can I trust someone like him with
you?”
I kept shaking my head, unable to find the right words. This was even
more shocking and hurtful than when I’d come to him asking for help with
my first movie. I didn’t need this…doubt from him. Not again. “I’m sorry
you feel that way. I gotta go.”
“Maggie.” He held my hand before I turned. “At least tell me you’re
happy.”
“I am. The happiest I’ve ever been.” I felt every word. “I would have
been even happier if you’d given me your blessing. But just like making
movies was the right choice for me and you couldn’t understand it, Mike is
the right man for me. I’m not backing down even if you don’t approve. I hope
one day you’ll accept my choice.”
He barely smiled, nodding. “I don’t think I can ever do that, but make
no mistake, baby, I’ll be giving you away at that wedding.”
A long, shivering sigh escaped me. “That’s enough…for now.”
He chuckled, pulling me into a warm hug. “Take care of yourself,
baby.”
“You too.”
There was a knock on the door and Anna entered. “I’m sorry, Mr.
Dawson, but if you don’t leave now, you’re going to be late for the Medusa
meeting.”
“Thanks, Anna. I’ll be right out,” he said and glanced at me. “Do you
need a ride somewhere?”
“No. My ride is still waiting in the parking lot. Do you mind if I take a
look around? I wanna see what you’ve done with the place.”
“It’s your place. You don’t need my permission. I’d love to stay and
show you around, pick your brain even, but you know…”
“I know. See you soon, Daddy.” I strode out of the office and waved
goodbye at Anna. Then I stopped at the offices area where I’d caught a
glimpse of a smooth waterfall built in the wall. The water cascaded over
slate-blue stone. A small cluster of employees hurried from elevators to
various offices, throwing nervous glances at me.
A girl, probably my age, walked toward me, ducking her head. “Are
you Maggie Dawson, the director?”
“Yes,” I replied with a smile. “And Nick Dawson’s daughter.”
“You’re so cool. Can I take a picture with you?”
“Sure.” I posed, and the girl clicked her phone with a selfie. In no time,
employees circled me, asking for autographs and photos. My chance to see
the new place had timed out.
After satisfying the crowd, I rushed to the elevator. The doors opened,
and the one person I wished I’d never see again came out. This was not my
lucky day.
“Maggie. What are you doing here?” Andrea asked.
“Leaving.” I jumped into the elevator, pushing the closing button fast.
Andrea held the door with her manicured hand. Then she got back
inside, her face stern. “What’s the rush?”
I swore in my head, hiding my hand from Andrea’s sight, wishing to
God I’d worn something with pockets.
Eight months ago, Mike said Andrea wouldn’t bother us again, and to
Andrea’s credit, she hadn’t done anything to disrupt the peace since then. But
something told me that if Andrea knew about the engagement, she’d cause
trouble like none of us had ever seen.
“Why are you here?” I asked.
“I came to see Nick. Sometimes, here is the only place I can get hold
of him.”
“Well, you just missed him.”
“I know. They told me downstairs.” She smirked as the doors closed.
“By the way, you don’t have to hide your ring from me.”
My hands clenched into fists. That Anna bitch. “They told you that
one, too?”
“Yes. That’s why I came up.” Andrea grabbed my hand and examined
the ring.
I stiffened in response to Andrea’s touch, wishing I never had come
here today.
“Ten carats?” Jealousy dripped from her tone.
“I don’t know. I never cared to ask. Why don’t you ask him?”
Andrea dropped my hand, inching a brow. “Don’t get smart with me.
You know he’s no longer my client…or friend.”
The elevator reached the parking lot and the doors opened. I rushed
out. “Look, I’d love to sit and chat, but I’m running late.”
“For the Oscars?” Andrea scoffed, her heels clacking on the cement.
“You think you’re going to win?”
I stopped, closing my eyes, my jaws tightening. Some things would
never change. Don’t let her ruin your day. Just walk away.
“We both know that you won’t. I’m gonna ask you a better question.
Do you really think he loves you?”
I spun, my cheeks burning. “Yes, Andrea. I know he loves me. Why
can’t you just see me happy like any sane mother?”
“Happy? You poor little thing.” She barked with laughter as she
stepped forward. “I’ve been trying to spare you the heartache, but you just
won’t listen.” Her stare shot daggers at me. “Let me ask you this.” She lifted
her finger in the air toward her neck. “Do those little kisses on his neck still
drive him crazy? Or better yet, when he goes down on you and smells your
cunt first, who do you think taught him that?”
No.
He wouldn’t.
He’d never.
Mike and Andrea…
No!
Her words were like knives slicing my heart to shreds. Horror and
denial whirled through me like toxic fumes, my stomach turning with a sharp
pain as if filled with broken glass. “You’re lying,” I whispered, shuddering.
“You’re a sick, lying monster.”
“I can’t believe he brainwashed you like that.” Andrea rolled her eyes,
her hands held up in the air. “You’re so stupid, Maggie. You always have
been. I don’t know what else to do to make you understand. Just ask him
what happened on the night of March 17th sixteen years ago. Maybe you’ll
finally get that he’s only with you because you’re a younger version of me.”
She started away. “Enjoy your Oscars. I really hope you’ll win.”
 Scene 69
Maggie

I didn’t know how I made it to the car or inside Mike’s house. Shaking,
I passed by the hair and makeup team swirling around the house and took the
elevator to Mike’s bedroom—our bedroom.
“Mike?” I called out, my voice trembling.
“In the bathroom. Come in.”
He was in his underwear, holding an electric trimmer, looking in the
bathroom mirror, when I came in. “What took you so long? How did it go?”
I just stood frozen in place, my eyes locked on his face.
“Amore?” He glanced at me, and then his face went pale. “What
happened?”
“An…Andrea.”
The trimmer fell from his hand in the sink, and my heart—what was
left of it—fell to my knees. I’d hoped against all hope Andrea was lying, but
the quiver of his hands bracing at the sink confirmed my worst nightmare.
“I thought she was lying,” I breathed, my legs wobbling.
He dashed toward me. “Maggie, cuore mio, please listen.”
“Listen to what? Listen to what, Mike?” My chest hurt. “Did you or
did you not fuck my mother?”
“Maggie, please…I was eighteen, and she got me drunk. I’m sorry. I’m
so so sorry. She—”
The room spun, and I tilted my head to the side, its weight suddenly
too heavy. His lips were still moving, but I couldn’t hear a thing. “Shut the
fuck up.”
He mumbled another plea.
 Rage and resentment welled in me as the last fragment of my heart was
torn from my chest. “How could you?” I burst into tears. “How could you?
How could you?!”
“It was the worst night of my life. I didn’t know any better. Per
favore…” He gripped my arms. “I love you, Maggie. You have no idea what
happened that night.”
I yanked myself out of his hold, my stomach revolting. “Don’t touch
me.”
He winced. “Maggie…”
I spun around and started for the door, but he jumped in front of me,
blocking the way. “No, Maggie. I won’t let you leave. You promised.”
“Promised what? To let you fix things before I left? How can you fix
this?” Fresh tears blurred my vision. “Just tell me how can you fucking fix
this?”
“I’ll do anything. Anything.” His voice broke, and he tried to touch me
again.
“I said don’t touch me!” I darted to the toilet and vomited my guts out.
“Oh God. I make you sick now?” He came behind me. “Please, amore.
This is the past I’ve been afraid of. The reason I haven’t told you I loved you
all those years.”
“You should’ve never said it!” I scrambled to my feet, aiming for the
door. “That fucking night I told you about my feelings, you should’ve
slapped me and told me to fuck off.”
His breaths came in short gasps, and his eyes brimmed with tears.
“Maggie, I beg you.”
His hand reached for my face, and my palm rang across his cheek, my
fingers leaving marks on his face. “Don’t fucking touch me!” I couldn’t bear
another second of this. Quickly, I grabbed the doorknob, and I bolted to the
bedroom door.
“Please, Maggie, don’t go,” he moaned. “Please!”
 I grabbed my backpack on the way out and went to the garage,
ignoring Mike’s shouts. My designated driver was smoking a cigarette next
to the blue Mercedes Mike had given me when they’d returned from Belize. I
nodded at the chauffeur, and he stomped on his cigarette.
“Get out of the way,” I ordered.
“I’ll drive you, Ms. Dawson,” he said, opening the back door.
“Maggie!” Mike yelled, running half-naked across the garage. When I
didn’t stop, he yelled to the driver. “Don’t let her go alone!”
“Get the fuck out of the way!” I pushed the driver and slid behind the
wheel. My eyes took one last glance at Mike, who was banging on my
window now, desolation and despair enveloping me, choking me. Then I
slammed the gas pedal, and the tires screeched, part of me wishing I would
crash and end this misery called life once and for all.
 Scene 70
Mike

SIXTEEN YEARS AGO

Mike glanced with eyes half open at the ice clinking in his glass as
Andrea poured more martini in it. “I think I’ve had enough.”
“Come on.” She gulped on her drink as if it were water. “You only had
two.”
“Four.” He chuckled. “I’m not used to drinking, Andrea. I’m not even
allowed to drink.” He probably shouldn’t have come here, but drinks with
the agent who promised to skyrocket his career was too tempting to pass up.
Her laugh rang in his ears as she dropped on the couch next to him, the
hem of her miniature dress inching up her thighs. “You’re a movie star now.
You gotta learn how to party.”
He tore his eyes from her legs, scratching the back of his head. “No,
I’m not. I’ve just signed my first gig.”
“And we’re celebrating.” She shifted closer to him, bringing his glass
to him. “To many more movies to come.”
With no will or energy left to argue, he took the glass, tapped it with
hers, and took another sip. “Thank you. For everything.”
Her long fingers twirled around his curls. “Don’t thank me, Mickey.
We’re friends. We gotta help each other.” Their gazes met, and she leaned in.
“You know you have a very beautiful mouth.” She smacked her red lips,
tossing her long hair across her shoulder.
He wiped the sweat on his forehead as he swallowed. “Uh…thanks.”
She moved even closer. The deep V on the front of her neckline
revealed an ample expanse of her breasts. He leaned back, trying to get to his
feet. “I should go.” He barely made it off the couch before he plopped back
down. “Wow. O-kay. I’m officially drunk.”
“You can stay here tonight.” She rested her hand on his knee. “Nick is
in New York. There’s only me and Maggie.”
He shook his spinning head, which made it spin further. “No.”
“I like you, too, Mike.”
“What?”
She smirked. “You think I don’t see you when you stare at my boobs
or my ass?”
Cazzo. “Andrea… I…”
“Hush.” Her finger brushed his lips, and he gulped. “I’ve always
wanted to do this.” Her lips parted and touched his.
He felt paralyzed, chained to the couch by the beautiful lips of the
older woman he’d had a crush on growing up—like any boy growing in a
house with a sexy, teenage girl. He blinked himself into awareness. She was
married. She was a mother. His inner mention of her family shut down his
sex drive. “Nick,” he gasped out the name in a protest.
“Leave my husband out of this.” Her breath was hot on his skin as she
softly spoke. “It’s just you and me now. Two adults who find each other
attractive and act based on their desire that can’t be contained anymore.” Her
hand slid up his thigh. “Don’t you find me attractive, Mickey?” Her palm
reached his dick, and she smirked again.
He moaned, shifting, trying to block out the push against his pants.
“Andrea, per favore. This is wrong.”
As if she hadn’t heard him, she sat on his lap and took off his T-shirt.
“You really are beautiful.” Her wet kisses on his neck made him shudder.
“Do you like that?”
“I’m a little sensitive there. It drives me crazy. Please stop.” He made
a feeble attempt to push her away, but his limbs were numb and he could
barely move. “Get off me.”
“Do you know what drives me crazy?” Slowly, she slid her panties
down her legs. Then she pushed the hem of her dress higher. “I like to watch
a man’s face when he smells me.” The couch sank beside his thighs as she
pushed herself up to his face, and then down on his hips.
 Scene 71
Mike

SIXTEEN YEARS AGO

Almost a week later, Andrea tried to get him into bed one more time,
yet he managed to politely refuse. He asked her never to touch him again, and
she tried to convince him she loved him. He almost believed her, but in a few
weeks he found out she was sleeping with her new client, another eighteen
year old.
Mike confronted her, but somehow she made him believe it was all his
fault. She told him she’d never cheated on Nick before him. It was Mike’s
fault he was too beautiful. He seduced her. He ruined her marriage. And now
that he didn’t want her, she’d been lost, stumbling, sleeping around to forget
him.
Although he never loved her, Mike was ready to accept the
consequences of his mistake and make things right for her. He asked her to
leave Nick and be with him. Of course, she couldn’t because of Maggie. Her
only girl needed her. She had to sacrifice everything, even her heart, for
Maggie’s sake. Andrea was a saint, and he was the devil himself.
 Scene 72
Mike

Mike drew the back of his hand across his face, wiping off his tears,
wishing he could do the same with the memory, with the night that ruined his
life. Then he called the driver he sent after Maggie. “Where’s she now?”
“In her car by Santa Monica Pier. She’s been sitting there since she
drove off.”
“Keep following her, and don’t let her see you.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mike hung up and texted Maggie. I’m not going to the ceremony. You
should go. Plz come home. I promise I won’t try to talk to you or see you.
 Scene 73
Maggie

I stared with swollen eyes at the waves. Wild raging waves, thunderous
like the thoughts murdering all hope inside me. How had I wound up here
again? The same darkness. The same pain. Sadness burst back into my chest
as the visions of what I used to believe was the worst day of my life—today
was definitely the worst—forced their way into my head. I was only sixteen
when I saw the true colors of the narcissistic sociopath called my mother…

When I walked in the house, it was quiet and dark. I jogged up the
stairs, taking off my jacket, the sound of the shower starting above me. Shit. I
glanced at my watch. Almost one a.m. Dad was on a business trip, and my
mother was supposed to be sleeping. Now, Andrea would give me a lecture
about being late. Again.
I tiptoed to my room, hoping I’d slip by unseen. However, my parents’
bedroom door was open, and I knew I wouldn’t get away with it.
I passed by the room, but Andrea didn’t come out or call my name.
Awesome. All my fears were for nothing. I continued to my room with a
smile. Sweet freedom. Then a strange voice stopped my smile, an unfamiliar
masculine laugh.
I whirled back to my parent’s room and took one step inside. The light
from the hall spilled into the dim bedroom, and the lit bathroom illuminated
in clear fashion what no child should have ever seen.
Andrea’s hands were on the counter. Her perfectly manicured nails
dug into the tan granite, her head tilted down, a boy’s head at her neck. He
was saying something against her hair, gripping her bare butt.
I stepped out of the bedroom, my head pounding, almost throwing up
before I reached my own bathroom. The sound of my feet was roaring, yet
they didn’t hear, didn’t notice. They were too busy moaning.
Andrea didn’t even bother to close the door or remain quiet. To that
extent, she didn’t care about getting caught. She didn’t care about the pain
she could cause her family. Her own husband. Her own daughter.
I locked myself up for days after that night, the picture of my naked
mother with that boy—he couldn’t have been older than nineteen— haunting
me. When Dad returned home and noticed my agony, I couldn’t bring myself
to tell him. To hurt him. Even if I had the audacity to bring it up, Andrea
would lie, and he’d believe her like always.
I thought about facing my mother. Perhaps knowing she’d been caught
would shame Andrea into stopping. But the fear she’d long sowed in me was
crippling. Andrea would have turned it on me. She’d have found a way to
make it all my fault.
How could I look into Dad’s eyes again, carrying that secret and not
being able to tell him, watching him being deceived every moment of his life
with that woman? How could I live with that woman under the same roof
again?
Torn, weak and desperate, I decided to put an end to that burden and
that pain I could no longer stand.
I grabbed a kitchen knife, hid it under my sweater, and waited in my
room for everyone to go to sleep. I felt the pain of the steel, felt it stab
through my chest, deep, but not deep enough. I should’ve researched this
whole thing. I should’ve chosen a better method. My pathetic stab wasn’t
strong enough to kill a chicken.
Blood poured out of my chest, then my strength, and I fell. Lying there
on the carpet, I could hear Dad’s cries as he stormed through the door. It was
unlocked. Another thing I should’ve thought through. Had it been locked, I
could’ve bled out and my miserable life would have ended. Instead, I was
forced to live with a nasty scar and a nasty secret…

Now, I glanced in the rear mirror, asking myself what I’d done so
wrong that I had to relive this horror one more time. Was I destined for
misery? Was that why I had been born?
The phone vibrated for the umpteenth time. I got it out to turn it off,
but the preview for Mike’s last text caught my attention. Plz come home.
Home. What was home? He was. He was everything. Had been. The reason
to live and put up with all the shit.
Now, it was all gone.
I took a long breath and started the car.
 Scene 74
Mike

“I told you to check in with me every hour. Where the hell is she
now?” Mike barked on the phone.
“She’s still at her father’s company, sir,” the driver answered.
“What? It’s eight p.m. on a Sunday. Are they even still open?” Mike’s
heart thrashed. “Go check.”
“Yes, sir.”
That fuckin’ idiot. He hung up and tried Andrea’s cell. It led straight to
voicemail. “Where the fuck are you, puttana del cazzo? I don’t know what I
was thinking that day, trusting you again, hoping for a second there was a
shred of humanity inside you. This isn’t over, Andrea. I swear to God I’ll ruin
your life like you ruined mine. You think you had your revenge? I’ll show
you what revenge is. I’m gonna tell the whole world who you really are and
what the fuck you did. This is not over!”
He called the driver again. “Did you find her?”
“I’m so sorry, sir. They’re closed. She must have left on foot. Her car
is still in the parking lot.”
“Fuck!”
 Scene 75
Maggie

I entered the club, my grip on the backpack strap on my shoulder,

ducking so I wouldn’t be recognized. My eyes strained to focus in the dim
light as my feet shuffled to the bar. I saw Tony. It was a slow night, and he
was leaning on the counter doing nothing.
“Maggie? To whom do we owe the honor of this visit?” he taunted.
I collapsed on a stool, my eyes dropping to the counter.
“Are you all right?”
I fought back the tears and looked up, shielding myself with the
backpack. “Just pour me a drink, Tony, please.”
“Cosmo?”
I shook my head. “Vodka on ice, and keep it coming.”
“That bad?”
I just fished my vape out and took a drag. Then I, methodically,
watched him fix the drink.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” It sounded more of a request than of a
question.
Everything needed to be said I’d put it in a letter and left it on Dad’s
desk myself. He’d get to read it when he returned from Dubai. Security had
let me in, everyone had been gone, and I’d finally got a chance to see the new
floor.
I emptied my glass. “It’s a slow night. Why’s it a slow night on a
Sunday?”
He stared at me for a few seconds, and I almost begged him to speak.
To say anything to fill the deafening sound of silence.
“I don’t know. It was pretty busy a couple of hours ago.” He looked at
the clock on the brick wall. “If they knew we were expecting a celebrity,
they’d have stayed.” He chuckled, and I saw the disappointment in his eyes
when I didn’t laugh back. “It’s 10:15 anyway. People have work tomorrow.”
I nodded at my glass for a refill.
He opened the bottle, staring at me as he poured my drink. “I’ve never
seen you like this. Talk to me.”
A tear dropped from my eye. I downed my drink and pointed up at the
TV. “Can you turn it on? I wanna watch the Oscars.”
He fiddled with the remote until he found the right channel. “Aren’t
you supposed to be there?”
My eyelids drooped as the vodka and weed seeped through my senses,
slowly dulling them. The hosts were presenting Original Song nominees,
which meant Actor in a Supporting Role had been announced and Directing
was coming two awards later. “Do you know if Cassidy won?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can you please check? My phone is dead.”
He rested his elbows on the counter, checking his cell. “Uh…no. It
went to Patrick Hill.”
Sorry, Jim. “Patrick was good too.” I sighed. “I need another drink.”
Reluctance crossed his face, and I turned my eyes to the TV. “How
about that Cosmo?”
About half an hour later, the hosts presented the nominated directors.
When my name came up, I wished for a moment I’d been there. It’d have
been nice to attend the dazzling ceremony. An opportunity rarely given to
anyone, and I’d wasted it. Another one to add to a long list of regrets.
“You must be excited…and nervous. I know I am,” Tony said.
My stare dropped to his face, and I could tell that he, unlike me, was
excited and nervous. I wished I could feel it, too. Any feeling. Anything. It
was as if my soul had been replaced by a blank, black slate.
“And the Academy Award for Achievement in Directing goes to…”
Four live images of the nominated directors cascaded on the screen, along
with Cassidy sitting next to an empty seat, where I should have been.
“Lucindo A. Bravo.”
“Oh, come on!” Tony booed at the applause coming from the screen.
“You should’ve won. Really. The movie was great.”
My fingers touched the short straw in the frothy pink drink. “You’ve
seen it?”
“Hell yeah. I took some of the guys and went to see it. Bragged about
knowing the director…too well.” He snickered, lowering his head to meet my
gaze. “I’m really sorry you didn’t win.”
I savored my favorite drink sip by sip. “I’m not.”
“What did Gennaro do, Maggie?”
My eyes flicked at him. “What makes you think he did something?”
“C’mon. You two are supposed to be there,” he nodded at the TV, “but
neither of you are. Instead, you’re here, with this terrible look on your face,
which honestly, is scaring the hell out of me.”
I narrowed my eyes, hearing nothing but the voice of the celebrity on
TV. “And the Oscar goes to…Mike Gennaro.”
He made it. He’s finally made it. And I couldn’t be there to share it
with him. I can’t be there to share anything with him anymore.
I slapped my palm over my eyes as I quivered with tears. Then the
world stopped for a second, and I saw nothing but black.
Something annoying shook me. “Maggie? Maggie? Are you okay?”
I sniffled, wiping my face. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. Please, talk to me. What’s going on?”
When Mike was announced the winner, I knew with all my heart I was
still in love with him, and no matter what happened, I’d always be in love
with him, and no matter what happened, I could never have him again.
“There’s nothing to talk about anymore.” I drank the last of my
cocktail. “This was really good, Tony. Thank you.” My feet edged off the
stool and to the floor.
 “Wait. Where are you going?”
I continued to the door. “To my apartment.”
“Let me walk you.”
I turned, and he was already behind me. “It’s only a block away. Get
back to work.”
“I don’t think anyone knows you’re here if you’re worried you’d be
seen with me.”
A giggle burst out of my mouth. “Worried? I’m not worried about
anything.” I shrugged into my backpack and gave him a hug. “I’m sorry I’ve
hurt you, Tony. I really am. Forgive me?”
“That was two years ago. Of course I forgive you.”
“Thank you. You’ve always had a big heart,” I kissed his cheek. “I’m
glad I got to see you again. Goodbye, Tony.”
 Scene 76
Mike

“Please, Samantha, just tell me where she went,” Mike begged,

squeezing the phone on his ear, pacing the living room.
“I swear I don’t know where she is. She switched off her phone hours
ago, and I haven’t seen her all day. What the hell happened between you
two?”
The doorbell chimed. His strides crunched the distance to the door in a
split-second. He jiggled the door handle, and one of the security guards was
at the door. “Just please call me if you hear from her.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Gennaro, but there’s a Nick Dawson for you. He says
it’s urgent.”
Mike felt dizzy, knowing what was to come. Maggie must have told
him. It was time to face the inevitable. “Let him in.”
The security guard mumbled in his radio, and the gate opened. Nick
jerked the Jaguar into park before the front door and hopped out, holding an
envelope. “Where is she?” he exploded, advancing on Mike.
“Hey! Calm down, sir,” the guard said, standing between the Mike and
Nick.
“It’s okay. Just go,” Mike ordered.
“If anything happens to her, I will kill you myself,” Nick growled.
The security guard glanced at Mike. “Sir, are you sure?”
“Yes!” Mike opened the door wider, waving an arm at Nick to go
inside. “Please, just let me explain.”
“You don’t get to explain anything, you prick. I don’t give a shit about
you or that fucking whore I married. Where’s my daughter?!”
“I don’t know.” Mike’s voice broke as he closed the door. “They last
saw her at your office four hours ago. I was hoping you’d tell me where she
was.”
Nick slumped on the nearest chair and began to cry. “No…my baby.
She’s suicidal, you fuck.”
“What?” Mike screamed in shock.
The envelope in Nick’s hand shook. “She saw that bitch with a prick
like you ten years ago and tried to kill herself just to spare me the pain.”
Mike snatched the letter, his face tingling with horror.
Daddy,
I’m sorry.
You asked me once why I tried to end my life, but I never answered. I
know I’m 10 years too late, but I owe you this much.
I saw Andrea naked with another man. I didn’t know what to do. I was
afraid to confront her. Afraid of her and her manipulation as I’ve always
been. Today, I found out that she’d slept with Mike, too. My fiancé. The love
of my life. He was my only chance at happiness, Daddy. Now that it’s ruined
forever, I don’t know what to do anymore. Again, I find myself helpless.
Broken. Without hope.
Mike fell to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably.
I just want you to know that I love you, Daddy. And I’m sorry. Sorry
for not telling you 10 years ago. Sorry for telling you now. Sometimes
ignorance is happiness, but does happiness count if it’s false?
I don’t know. I’m rambling now. I’m sorry again. I’ll always be.
Goodbye, Daddy.
Maggie
The letters felt like a hundred daggers tearing through his soul non-
stop. How could he be so blind?
“I was supposed to be on a plane, but I forgot some papers and had to
go back to the office. I found the letter on my desk. Do you have any idea
where she might be?” Nick pleaded.
Mike jumped, shoving himself back into the here and now. “Did you
check her apartment?”
“I just came from there. She wasn’t there.”
Mike’s hands flew in the air without aim. “I’ll…call everybody.” He
grabbed his car keys. “We should split. I’ll go to the club near her apartment.
She likes to go there.” His hand rubbed across his mouth and nose. “I’ll text
you her friend’s addresses. They will tell you if she’s with them.”
Nick nodded as he jogged with Mike to the door.
If something ever happened to Maggie, Mike would never forgive
himself. He had to find her.
Before it was too late.
 Scene 77
Maggie

I sighed in relief as I closed the door behind me. I’d missed my old
apartment. The smell. The minimal furniture. The openness.
Without turning on the lights, I locked the door, walked to the bed and
laid my backpack on the floor next to it, the idea of writing a second letter
addressed to Mike appealing.
Don’t waste any more time. Just get it over with.
Not repeating the same mistake I made ten years ago, I’d bought a
Glock. It was terribly easy to buy one online. No hassle. No waiting time.
I got the paper bag encasing it out of the backpack and placed it in my
lap as I sat on the bed. Glancing one last time at the stars through the bay
window, I thought about Mike. Our best moments together flashed in my
mind: the look in his eyes when he knew I loved him, our first kiss, our first
night and the day after, the beautiful love-making session in front of the
mirror, the proposal.
My gaze dipped to the ring. I’d forgotten it was there.
He should have it back.
I should’ve written that somewhere, like when he gave me twenty-five
percent of the company after the engagement, and I insisted on having a
clause that stated he’d get it back upon my demise. I couldn’t let Andrea
inherit it. No fucking way.
I took off the ring, set it on the nightstand and found a piece of paper
there. Then I scribbled a note and slipped it under the ring.
Neither the sound of the paper bag crumbling as I brought out the
Glock nor the weight of the cold metal in my hand annoyed me. If I’d felt
anything at the moment, it’d have been liberation.
I walked to the full-length mirror. The silver light from the bay
window shone on my reflection, allowing me to watch myself. I inhaled,
listening to the sound of the air entering my nose, feeling it in my lungs, and
then I exhaled.
Then I raised the gun to my head, closing my eyes for the last time.
“I’m sorry.”
 Scene 78
Mike

Mike swore at the traffic lights as he called his manager again, his tear-
stained face pale in the rear mirror.
“I’m checking with all the hospitals and police stations. I’ve found
nothing so far, which is good, right?” James replied quickly.
Mike pressed a hand to his mouth. “Yes, I guess. Just please keep me
in the loop.”
“Sure. We’ll find her, Mike. Don’t worry,” he assured him.
The lights turned green, and he slammed the gas pedal. As Maggie’s
apartment building appeared ahead, he ducked and raised his gaze to a dark
bay window. Then he accelerated to the club.
His eyes darted around the dimmed tables at the club, sweeping the
area for her face. There were only four customers inside and two bartenders
behind the counter; one was staring at him.
Mike stalked toward him, recognizing the face as he approached the
counter. “You’re Tony, right? Have you seen Maggie?”
The bartender glared at him. “What did you do to her?”
Mike clasped his hands and put them in front of his face, closing his
eyes. “So you saw her? When did she leave?”
“About thirty minutes ago.”
Mike’s breaths became short and fast. “Please. Just please tell me she
told you where she went.”
“Go fuck yourself, Gennaro. Why would I tell you?” He threw a rag
over his shoulder. “You’re the reason she was all upset. What the fuck did
you do to her?”
“You…you talked to her? How upset was she when she left?” Terror
squeezed Mike’s heart. It must have shown through his eyes because Tony’s
expression suddenly softened, showing concern now, not anger.
“Very.” He leaned forward. “Scary upset.”
“Oh my God,” Mike whispered. “Please, Tony. Where is she?”
“She said she was going back to her apartme—”
“Thank you.” Mike bolted to the door, stumbling on chairs and tables.
He ran with all his might to the apartment building, his tears flying in the
cold air, scattered words flashing in his brain.
…a serious trigger …don’t wanna talk about my scar, Mike …you’re
even dumber than I thought …my only chance at happiness …broken …
without hope.
He skipped the elevator and raced to the third floor. He threw himself
shoulder first against the door with all his strength. Then he stepped back and
gave the door one loud kick, knocking it cock-eyed on the floor. “Maggie!”
She was standing in the dark in front of the mirror, with a gun pointed
at her head.
He didn’t know how he reached her. He didn’t know what he was
saying. What she was saying. All he knew was the horror that swept through
him when a bang echoed in his ears and her eyes stared vacantly at him.
 Scene 79
Mike

Blood.
All over Mike’s hands. Her blood.
He squatted by the wall of the nearest area to the OR he was allowed. A
number of nurses spilled out from all directions and hurried toward him.
“Mr. Gennaro, we need to get you examined.”
“We have a room ready for you, sir.”
“Are you in any pain?”
The questions hammered on him, and he wished they would have just
been quiet. Why were they concerned with him? He wasn’t the one who got
shot. “You should be with Maggie,” he said, his quivering voice hoarse,
hushed. “She’s the one who needs your help.”
“Sir, she’s in the OR now with the best doctors in the hospital. We need to
get you examined and cleaned up. There’s blood on you, and we need to
make sure you’re not bleeding.” Hands and arms were helping him up now.
He tried to block them. Push them away. He wanted them to stop touching
him. “We’ll take care of you, sir.”
They escorted him to a private room where a couple of doctors stood. The
nurses got him out of his bloody sweater and shirt while the doctors kept
asking him more questions, their latex gloves groping him.
“Can anyone please tell me how she is? In English?” He didn’t understand
half of the things the doctors in the ER told him.
“Mr. Gennaro,” a male doctor started, “the doctors are operating on Ms.
Dawson to get the bullet out and stop the bleeding. She’s lost a lot of blood,
but they’re doing everything in their power to get her stabilized.” He moved a
tiny flashlight in Mike’s face while a nurse took off his jeans. “Look here,
please.”
 “I don’t need this shit. Is she gonna be all right or not?”
“She’s in good hands, sir. Let us take care of the bruises on your leg and
shoulders, please. Do you know how you got those?”
“I kicked the door.” He shook his head. “I need to get back to her. I need
to know what’s happening.” He slid off the bed. “Can I have my clothes
back?”
“In a minute, sir.”
After they removed the blood, wrapped him in bandages, and dressed him
in blue scrubs and a sweatshirt that had the hospital name and logo, the police
came knocking at the door. “Mr. Gennaro, we need to ask you a few
questions.”
“Do you mind if we do it on the way?”
“Not at all.” The two officers flanked him as he walked back to the area
near the OR. “Can you tell us what happened?”
The memory flash blinded him, piercing his chest. “She was…holding a
gun to her head.” He swallowed. “I ran…” His hands trembled and tears
welled up in his eyes.
“Take your time, Mr. Gennaro.”
“I pushed her hand and tried to take the gun, but she fought.” He sniffled.
“She fought, and it went off through her chest.” Bowing his head, he cried.
“She was bleeding in my arms. I called 911. They guided me through some
first-aid instructions. Then the ambulance came and brought us here.”
The officer finished writing his notes, gave Mike some comforting words,
and left with his partner.
Mike plopped down on the floor, breathing rapidly, his head wobbling
with each breath as he stared at nothing. Minutes later, Nick arrived and
dashed toward him.
“What did the doctors say?” Nick rasped, his face pale and haggard.
“They’re still operating.” Mike barely got the answer out before James
and Samantha appeared down the hall.
 Mike sprang to his feet, rubbing his temple with the heel of his hand as the
two managers told him they arranged for security and managed to get the
press under control for now. However, the news was already out.
He didn’t care about the press or the award or any other fucking thing but
Maggie’s life.
“Do you guys need anything? Coffee?” James asked.
“No,” Mike said while Nick shook his head. “Nick, why don’t you sit
down for a minute?”
“What the hell do I want to sit down for?” Nick yelled. “Why don’t you
go sit down or even get the hell out of here and leave us alone?”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Fuck you.”
“Okay. Let’s not lose our heads here,” James said, standing in front of
Mike. “Can we just keep calm and focus on Maggie?”
The four of them continued to stand, listening to the occasional rubber-
heeled rustle of walking-by nurses, and their own breathing.
Hours later, three doctors emerged from the OR. Mike remained on his
feet in the midst of the mass of white clothing and bobbing faces, trying to
understand why Maggie was still in danger and couldn’t be moved to a
wardroom yet.
“The bullet went through her lung, which led to severe hemorrhage. We
were able to remove the bullet and repair the lung. We’ll keep her in the
PACU where she’ll be closely monitored until she wakes up, then she’ll be
transferred to the ICU.”
“Can I see her? I’m her father.”
Mike’s eyes flicked. “And I’m her fiancé.”
Nick glared at him. “Not anymore.”
“Gentlemen, you can’t fight in here,” one of the doctors said, swiftly
ushering them to a waiting area outside the recovery room. “Ms. Dawson is
not awake yet, but if you can manage to put your arguments aside for now, I
can allow two minutes per visitor in the PACU.”
“Yes, please let me see her,” Mike said before Nick could respond.
“Direct family first, Mr. Gennaro.” The doctor motioned for a nurse to
escort Nick to the recovery room.
Mike took a deep breath. “Is she gonna be okay?”
“She’s stable for now. The surgery was a success. We’ll keep a close eye
on her for the next forty-eight hours and hope for the best.”
Mike nodded, wincing. “Thank you.”
“It could have been worse. A chest wound is much easier to heal than a
gunshot to the head. You saved her life.” The doctor patted him on the
shoulder and nodded his chin at the nurse escorting Nick back—his eyes
were red around the rims as he sniffled. “Your turn,” the doctor said.
Samantha took Nick’s arm and helped him to a chair while Mike struggled
not to run into the recovery room.
Maggie was on a ventilator and tubes were coming out of her chest. Her
face was white. Morbid.
He crumbled by her bedside, barely holding his tears. He held her hand
gently, careful not to disturb the IV in her arm. “Can she hear me?”
“No, sir,” the nurse replied.
He sobbed and kissed Maggie’s palm. “Mi dispiace, cuore mio. Ti amo
tanto, Carolina. I’m so sorry, amore. I love you more than anything,” he
whispered anyway. Even if she couldn’t hear him, maybe she could sense
that he was by her side. “You gotta live. You know that, right? You’re just
starting, Kiddo. You can’t just leave.” He stared at her, scared out of his
fucking mind that he might never see her smile or hear her voice again.
“Please, don’t leave me. Not like this. Not like this, amore.” He broke down,
unable to stop the tears.
“Mr. Gennaro, I’m afraid I can’t let you stay any longer.”
He nodded, kissing Maggie’s palm again. A painful sigh came out of his
chest as he rose to his feet.
 Outside, the doctor advised him and Nick to rest and assured them they
would be notified when she woke up.
“Nick, it’s four a.m. you should get some rest. They already have a room
for me. You can use it,” Mike said.
“I’m not going anywhere.” He lifted his head from his hands. “Not
anymore.”
 Scene 80
Mike

At eight in the morning, while Lahey, his publicist, discussed with him
potential scenarios to tell the press, Mike watched through a window Maggie
strapped to a bed in the ICU, her father by her side.
“We can’t hide the suicide. It’s a gunshot, and there’s the police report
and the bartender…”
Her words fell on him unheard as he silently prayed for Maggie’s
recovery. What would the world mean without her? What would he be
without her? To the world, Mike Gennaro. Superstar. Heartthrob. Academy
Award winner. To himself, a motherfucking prick. The guy who made the
only girl he loved try to kill herself.
As tears irritated his eyes, he saw in his peripheral vision a woman
approaching. He looked in the direction of hesitant, clacking heels, and wrath
consumed him.
“You fucking bitch,” he snarled, clenching his teeth, lunging through the
security guards.
“Mike!” James’s arms surrounded him, pulling him back.
Andrea froze while Mike kept cursing, shrugging out of James’s tight
hold. She cried, her hands held up. “I just need to see her.”
“Why? To gloat?”
“I swear I didn’t know she’d do this,” she whimpered.
He growled, his breath hitching. “Fine.” He grabbed her arm, dragging her
past the guards. “Come see what you did.” His hands gripped her shoulders,
pushing her in front of the window “Look. This is your doing in there. This is
what you did to your own daughter. There’s no one else to blame this time.”
He felt the tremors running through her body. “How is it that you didn’t
know? She did the same thing before and for the same fucking reason.”
The tremors became shudders. “What are you talking about?”
He shook his head in disbelief. “You didn’t even know she tried to
commit suicide before?”
“No,” she sobbed. “When?”
“She saw…” A long beep from the ICU clipped his words. He stared as
Nick was pushed away and a nurse took his place. His heart raced with the
scurrying steps behind. Cold sweat trickled down his back as he saw doctors
rush into the room.
“What the hell is happening?” Mike asked when Nick came outside.
“I don’t…” Nick’s face turned red, his eyes wide as they fell on Andrea’s
face. “How dare you come here? I told you we never wanted to see you
again. Get the hell out.”
“Let me go, Mike,” she begged.
“No. You watch.” His fingers bit into her shoulders, crushing them. “You
fucking watch.”
“No. Please let me leave.” Her voice became high and urgent, her breath
coming in gasps, her eyes dilated, like a terrified child’s.
The terror surging through him as he watched the unchanging, flat line on
the monitor loosened his grip. He finally let go of Andrea, and she ran, her
sobs echoing behind.
No. No, amore. No. He pressed his hands together in a silent prayer.
A few moments later, the beep became a rhythmic pulse, and the doctors
told them Maggie was stable again. It was as if Maggie’s heart didn’t bear
beating while that serpent was in the same place.
 Scene 81
Maggie

I didn’t know how long I’d slept. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that
I woke up. Alive. Fuck. Not again.
I had tubes in my mouth and nose, and I felt like I was choking. There was
a voice talking to me. Seconds later, I realized it was the nurse’s. Then I slept
again.
Now, wide awake, I took a look around the room. The big tube in my
mouth was gone, but my throat was sore. I had nose prongs, and needles
stuck to my arms. I was naked and cold, covered only by a sheet, wires and
tubes coming out of different areas around my chest. I tried to move but my
arms and legs were strapped down. Looking to the side, I saw a number of
machines and a nurse rising from a white chair.
“Maggie, can you hear me? Don’t talk. Just nod,” the nurse said.
I barely nodded. I was in so much pain I couldn’t tell what, or where, hurt
the most.
“You had lung surgery, and you’re in the ICU now,” the nurse continued,
checking the monitors of the machines. “Are you in any pain?”
I nodded again. For the next several hours, I drifted in and out of sleep.
The nurses’ faces kept changing. I might have seen Dad’s face, too. And
Mike’s.
Eventually, I found myself awake with a doctor standing at the side of my
bed holding a clipboard, a nurse, and a green curtain behind them. “How long
have I been here?” I slurred painfully.
“This is your second day in the ICU,” he replied, setting the clipboard
aside and flashing a light in my eyes. “Look here, please.”
“The fuckin’ restraints?”
“There’re for your safety, Ms. Dawson. It’s common procedure.” He
turned off the irritating flashlight. “Can you tell me your full name, age and
marital status?”
I rolled my eyes, or I tried. “Am I the only patient in the room?”
“Yes. Can you please answer the questions?”
“Why the curtain? Someone out there?”
“There are many people outside waiting to see you. I didn’t think you
would want them to see you like that. But I can open it, if you like.”
“No.”
“What’s your full name?”
“Maggie Carolina Dawson. Almost twenty-six…single.” I tried to breathe
to stop the tears, but I coughed in pain. “This hurts.”
He grabbed his clipboard again. “It’s quite normal. Coughing is actually a
good sign of recovery.”
Great. Even my body is acting against my will.
“There are no complications so far. The nurses would guide you through
breathing exercises and help you with the pain.” He checked the monitors of
the machines and scribbled something down. “You’ll be transferred to your
room shortly, and someone from Psychiatry will see you as soon as possible.”
I closed my eyes. “Is…Dad here?”
“Yes.”
“Can I see him…before the shrink?”
“Sure.”
When he opened the door, a commotion rose as the doctor announced my
awakening. The bodyguards made way for Dad to pass, and he smiled.
“Hey, baby,” he sang, his voice breaking. He was holding his tears. Mine,
however, couldn’t be stopped.
“Don’t cry, sweetie.” His hand touched mine below the straps. “I’m so
sorry, baby.” He kissed my forehead. “I’m so sorry.”
 “Not your fault, Daddy.”
His tears fell hot on my skin. “Yes, it is. I should have been there. I should
have known. Should have protected you. I’m so sorry.”
My lips twitched as I stared at the nurse lingering by the machines. “Can
you give us a minute?”
The nurse gave a shy smile, nodded, and walked out. I glanced at Dad.
“Did she even… Has she come to see me?”
He sat on the white chair, a grimace on his face. “She did.”
Which means she’s not here now. I took a short breath and exhaled before
it hurt. “Did she even stay long enough to know if I was gonna make it?”
A faint smile crossed his mouth. “Baby, you don’t have to worry about
Andrea anymore. We need to get you better now.”
My lips pursed. “Is he here?”
He gritted his teeth, nodding. “I tried to kick him out, but I couldn’t. After
all, he’s the one who stopped you…”
My fucking savior. I stared at the green curtain, the moment Mike fought
me for the gun coming back to me. The last thing I remembered before I
passed out was his arms. They were snug and constricting around me, and I
clung to them like an idiot as I fell.
“How did he even know?” I asked.
“I’d forgotten some papers and went back to the office later that night to
get them before my trip. Thank God for that.” He pressed his fist to his
mouth, wincing. “And I found the letter. I don’t know what would have
happened if I hadn’t…” He moaned. “I showed it to him, and he found you.”
I closed my eyes, the tears at the corners of my mouth salty.
“I can’t believe I was such a fool. Last time, you weren’t even scared of
dying. All you cared about was not letting Andrea know. I should have
noticed. How did I miss it?”
Last time, you thought I was just a teen acting out. The pain in my chest
increased. “What’s done is done, Daddy. Blame won’t fix anything.”
 “I’m sorry I couldn’t make you trust me enough to tell me the truth back
then or come to me for help whenever you needed it. I know I let you down,
but how could you do this to yourself again, Maggie? You promised me. You
promised you would never hurt yourself again.”
“I’ve made a lot of promises that I couldn’t keep.” The most important
one was to never let Andrea ruin my life again, and now look at me.
I tried to shift but I couldn’t move. “Can you ask them to take these
goddamn cuffs off?”
The door opened, and more nurses emerged from behind the guards and
stepped inside. “I’m sorry, but we need to walk Ms. Dawson through some
breathing exercises and move her a little to prevent clotting,” one of them
said, while the others hovered around Dad to get him out.
“Can you take these things off her?” He pointed at my arms, his eyes
reluctant.
Can you be more convincing, Dad?
“Just when we move her, but then we have to put them back on,” a nurse
answered.
I groaned. “Whatever. Just get me more pain killers.”
 Scene 82
Mike

Mike stood alone outside Maggie’s room. She left the ICU two days ago,
yet not once had she agreed to see him. She saw everybody who came to visit
her—even that Kyle cazzone—but refused to see him.
He’d taken advantage of every chance to get a glimpse of her; he lingered
by her room; he used his charm and money to convince the hospital staff to
get her out of the psych ward—they can still put her on a suicide watch in a
normal room, like a normal person—get him a room close to hers and tell
him when they walked her down the halls.
Most of the time Maggie wouldn’t make eye contact, but when she did,
her face was like stone, hard and unyielding. He wasn’t sure what was going
on in her head, but it wasn’t good as far as he was concerned.
He looked at the flowers flanking the hallway. Huge arrangements her
visitors had brought. Don’t they know she doesn’t even like flowers?
One of the nurses walked by, throwing him a familiar pitiful glance. He’d
been getting a lot of those lately. He was the poor man with the broken heart.
No one knew—or believed—he was the villain here. The one who drove his
girl to take her own life. A fucking murderer. He covered his eyes with his
hand as a sigh trembled out of his chest.
“She wants to see you.”
Mike’s head jerked up, and he saw Nick coming out from her room,
glaring. Instantly, Mike scampered to the door, but Nick stopped him
midway.
“I haven’t told her about Andrea. The psychiatrist said it’d be dangerous.”
Mike bobbed his head and took a wide stride before Nick’s strong grip fell
on his shoulder. “I won’t let you hurt her again. I won’t let anyone hurt her
again. So tread carefully, Gennaro.”
 Mike shrugged Nick’s hand off his shoulder and stepped into the room.
She was standing by the window, her back to him, her hair light brown in the
sunlight. He wanted to run to her, hold her, kiss her and pour his heart out.
Instead, he stood, paralyzed by his own mistakes, cursing fate.
“Close the door,” she said, her voice hoarse and tired, yet steady.
He did as she asked and walked toward her.
She shuffled to spin around. Her eyes barely met his. “You look like shit.”
Damn right I do. He forced a smile. “You look good.” His lips quivered.
“Beautiful.”
Looking away, she took slow steps toward the couch. She was struggling
to sit on her own, so, without thinking, he rushed to help her. She didn’t
object or throw up when his hands touched her arms. He gazed at her, and
then they were both shaking with tears in their eyes.
She stroked his hair, and he cried harder. Taking her hand in his, he kissed
her palm, and then placed it on his cheek.
“I can’t.” She withdrew both her hands.
He chewed on his lip as he straightened his back and sat next to her.
“Maggie, please listen to me. At least, let me tell you what happened that
night. Maybe—”
“Maybe what? I’ll know what a monster my mother is? I already know
that. I’ll know you, too, were abused and feel sorry for you? I already do. It
doesn’t change anything, though.”
The tears in her eyes compelled him to bow his head.
“Before we got together, I’d always thought you were never going to see
me as a woman because I was your friend’s daughter. I’d never thought it
was because I was the daughter of your abuser.”
“No.” His eyes widened. “I’ve never thought of you that way. Never.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“You have to believe that because it’s the truth.”
“How could you even have feelings for me? How could you touch me?”
Her voice shook at the end. “Was it some sort of Stockholm Syndrome or
something?”
“No. No. No. This is…” He shook his head hard and fast. “I know she
must have told you that you reminded me of her because she told me the
same thing. That’s a complete lie.” He gazed at her, willing her to believe
him. “I’ve never seen her in you. Not once. My feelings for you have
absolutely nothing to do with Andrea.”
She labored a breath. “How’s that even possible?”
“You of all people know your mother for who she really was. How she
manipulated everyone for her benefit. All those years she’d made me believe
that I was the one who seduced her. For fifteen years, I thought I was the guy
who made your mother cheat on your father and almost destroyed your
family. Only when you opened up to me about how she treated you I realized
she…”
He felt as if he was choking, and he shoved away the memory. “But that
didn’t make me think of you differently. Believe it or not, I loved you even
more that night. We were both abused by the same person, and I only saw it
as something that could connect us, not tear us apart. Only that night I knew
my love for you wasn’t wrong, and the idea of us seemed possible.”
He meant every word. And in a twisted manner, he was grateful that
Andrea had messed with his head in the past. If she hadn’t done that, he
would have never remained her client, and he would have never had the
chance to fall for Maggie. The best thing that had ever happened to him.
“Still, you should’ve told me,” she said. “And before you say anything, I
know you wanted to tell me, and I idiotically asked you not to. But with
something that devastating, you should’ve tried again and again and told me
anyway. You shouldn’t have hidden it from me like everything else, thinking
you were protecting me. Because you weren’t. You should’ve given me the
choice. Don’t you think I had the right to choose, Mike?”
“Of course. And I tried. So many times. I just couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“The moment was never right. It was either you were too happy or too
sad.” He shook his head. “I know I’m just making excuses. I’m so sorry. I
was a fucking coward, and I’m paying for it. I just thought…hoped you’d
never know, and not just because I was afraid to lose you, but I didn’t want
you to get hurt.” He shook his head again. “I didn’t know you already saw
her with someone else. I didn’t know you…”
His gaze tore from hers. “I’ll never forgive myself for not figuring it out.
Not paying enough attention. I’ve always taken pride in knowing you so well,
and I failed to notice something even your ex, who didn’t understand shit
about you, knew.”
“No one knew about the scar except Dad. I never told Kyle, either. He
figured it out on his own. He told me today how he’d asked a doctor friend
about what could cause a scar like mine. When the doctor had told him it was
a blade, Kyle suspected, and Dad confirmed it.”
“Which makes me even more of a dick. If someone should’ve investigated
this, it should’ve been me. He even tried to warn me, but I didn’t understand.
I never—”
“Never thought I was that much of a wacko.”
“Never thought you’d do that to yourself.” How could someone so
beautiful, so smart, so amazing end her life like that? He should have
expected it, though. Abuse was one of the worst things in the world. It
destroyed people from the inside out until there was nothing left to matter.
Not even life itself.
Her fingers weaved in the back of her hair. Her breaths became shallow.
“None of this matters now. I won’t do it again anyway. Looks like I’d never
get it done right. God wants me alive for some inconceivable reason. Just
have to accept my destiny and fucking live.”
“Don’t talk like this, please.” His heart shrank. “You deserve to live,
Maggie. You deserve to be happy.”
“I was happy.” Her voice went louder. “I was finally happy, Mike, and
then…” She closed her eyes, sobbing.
Every sob stabbed his heart. “Amore, you once told me if the past dictated
our future then we just had to be strong enough to accept it as it was and still
follow our dreams.”
 “Take a good look at me, and tell me if strong is a word you can use to
describe any part of me.”
“Maggie, please.” He went on his knees before her. “Despite everything,
I’ve always hoped you’d find it in your heart to forgive me.”
“Even if I do, it doesn’t matter.” She stared at him. “I really wish I could
be with you again, but she made sure it’d never happen. How can I touch
you, knowing what I know now? How can I push away the images she
planted in my head? She told me…very intimate things.”
His hands balled into fists as he winced. “Please, amore. I’d do anything.
Just name it,” he pleaded.
“There’s only one thing that I want from you.”
“Anything, vita mia. Anything.”
“I want Dark Hopes.”
 Scene 83
Mike

Mike’s heartbeat rang in his ears. “What do you mean?”

“I want to buy it back. You take my money, my shares, the island, the car.
I just want it back,” she said.
He just stared at her, his jaws tight. This is why you wanted to see me? To
take away the last thing that could bring us back together?
“Please don’t look at me like this.”
His vision blurred with tears. “Like what?”
“You don’t expect me to be able to work with you again.”
“Maggie, are you listening to what you’re saying? Dark Hopes is my last
chance to have you back.”
“We don’t have a chance,” she shouted, and he could see it hurt her.
He held his hands up. “Just calm down. You can’t yell.”
“Why can’t you understand that we’re over? We can’t be…anything
anymore. Not lovers. Not friends. Not partners. Nothing. There’s too much
pain. Too much darkness for anything good to survive.”
“No,” he moaned. “Maggie, I can’t live without you.”
She sobbed, her gaze lifting to the ceiling. “Can’t you see that I can’t live
without you either? I literally tried to take my own life, but we have no other
fucking choice but to do just that.”
He burst into tears, unable to bear the pain in her voice.
“Just please give me back my movie.”
He scrambled to his feet. “I can’t do that. I won’t do that. What you said
means you still love me.” His heart careened at the thought. At the hope.
“You just need time, Maggie. Just need time, amore.”
 She uttered a sound in the back of her throat that might have been a snort.
“So you’re just gonna be a prick till the end?”
He bent, looking her in the eye. “If not giving up on us makes me a prick,
so be it. I won’t let you go, Maggie. As long as I’m alive, I won’t dare let you
go.” He wiped his face with his hand. “And now is not the time to talk about
work or do anything except getting you better.” He turned to the door.
“I’m tied to the movie as its director. You made sure of that. Which means
I have casting approval,” she reminded him.
He spun around, reading her face. Even in her weakest hour, the
stubbornness in her expression was evident. One look in her eyes was enough
for him to know Maggie Dawson would not let him be the hero of her story.
 Scene 84
Maggie

I looked through the one-way mirror glass windows at the Happy Birthday
banners my fans held outside the hospital doors. “There’re so many of them.”
“People love you, Maggie,” Dad said. “It’s a gift no money can buy and
no power can force.”
“I don’t deserve it.” All my life, against all logic, I’d always thought if my
own mother couldn’t love me, I wasn’t worthy of any other love.
“Yes, you do, baby. You deserve all the love the world has to offer.”
I continued walking down the hallway as Dad held my arm. “Where’s
Andrea now?”
He sulked. “She left.”
I stilled for a moment, measuring his expression. “Left the house? The
country?”
His silence and the last conversation I had with Mike alarmed me. “Mike
talked about her in past tense, Dad. Is she…” A lump rose in my throat.
“I’m sorry.” His head lowered. “She… Loretta found her in the bathroom
after she left here. Andrea hanged herself.”
Tears found my eyes against my will as a familiar, unbearable pain
cracked into my chest. “Did she leave a note?”
He shook his head.
Not even an apology or a simple ‘I love you’. I had no control over the
tears that kept streaming down my face. Then my breaths came out in dry
heaves.
“Maggie, Maggie! Don’t panic,” Dad said, his voice distant, as if coming
from under water, his hands holding both my arms. Then he helped me to a
chair. “Just breathe.”
 I closed my eyes, trying to steady my agonizing breaths. A panic attack
with a bad lung was excruciating. My brain scrambled to process the
situation. Even in my darkest moment, Andrea managed to make it about
herself. Even in death, Andrea found a way to make it my fault. She’d ruined
my life in every way, and now she wouldn’t even let me have any sorts of
closure. She’d robbed me of any chance at a confrontation or having peace.
“Maggie, breathe.” Dad’s voice turned louder.
I stared at him and took a few breaths in and out. As the pain and the
shaking became under control, I finally managed to speak. “She must have
felt like she’d lost all power.”
“You were coding in front of her. She couldn’t handle the guilt, I guess,”
Dad said.
“Guilt? What guilt? This was never about me. Everything was always
about her. She wanted us to feel guilty and sorry for her, not the other way
around,” I whimpered. “Did you kick her out or something?”
He nodded, his face tight with unease. “I’d told her I’d divorce her and
she wouldn’t get a cent. There’s also…”
I ran the back of my hand over my face. “What?”
“Gennaro. What they did…what she did to him, it turned out she did it to
others, too. One of them wasn’t even eighteen.”
My eyes squeezed shut, as I tried to push down the disgust slicing through
my gut.
“He was arranging for a campaign with the other…victims to expose her.”
“Good for him,” I said angrily. “He should’ve done it earlier, though,
before it was too late.”
“Maggie, sweetie, I know she was your mother, but she’s not worth one
tear of yours. Not one second of your time,” he said. “Just look here.” He
pointed to the windows. “Think about all the love you have.”
I pressed my lips in pain. “I’m tired, Daddy. Take me back to my room.”
“You haven’t finished the round. We’re supposed to go around the ward.”
“I don’t care. Please take me back.”
 Scene 85
Maggie

As I passed by Mike’s room, I glanced inside. It was empty. “Have you

seen him today?”
“No. I think he finally got the message and left.”
Before I wondered why he chose today of all days to leave, I saw Jim
Cassidy approaching the security guards.
“Oh, Jim is here.” Dad waved at the guards to let Jim through. “He’s such
a gentleman. You know he’s been coming here every day even before you
woke up?”
I made a mental eye roll. Jim was one of the few gentlemen in Hollywood.
Beautiful, too. Tall and strong, with a build that required tailor-made suits to
fit those muscles. Black hair, enough of it to dig and grab. Blue eyes that
owned women’s hearts. Not mine, though. The chocolate brown ones had
claimed it for all eternity.
“Looking good, Kid.” Jim strode in my direction, a charming smile on his
face.
Did all of them have a ridiculous compelling industry smile?
He shook hands with Dad. “How are you today, Nick?”
They’re on a first name basis now?
“All good, except this one here won’t finish her round,” Dad said.
“Do you mind if I try to change her mind?”
Dad let Jim take his place. “Be my guest.”
What the fuck just happened? “I’m tired, Jim. I need to go back to my
room.”
“Not going to happen, Kid.” He started, his arm linked with mine.
 I didn’t like this, and I hated the part of me that immediately worried Mike
would appear and see me arm in arm with another man. Out of spite, I gave
in to following Jim.
“The first time I visited I got you flowers, but someone tipped me that you
hated them,” he said.
“And by someone you mean Nick, your new BFF.”
“He’s a great man. I’m quite fond of him.”
I braced my hand against the cold, white wall with every step forward. “I
can see it’s mutual.”
“So this time I got you something different.” He fished a long, narrow,
rectangular box with a black bow on top out of his suede jacket. “Happy
birthday, Maggie.”
“Jim, you shouldn’t have.”
“I really hope you like it.” He opened the box for me. A bracelet made of
silver and black pearls nestled inside. So simple. So elegant.
“It’s beautiful.” I looked at his grin. “But I can’t take it.”
His forehead creased. “Why not?”
“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”
“Maggie.” He smiled again. “Even though I don’t know the details, I’m
aware that you’ve been through a terrible tragedy. I also know that you only
broke your engagement with Gennaro a few days ago. I’d be an idiot if I was
looking for anything other than your friendship.”
My eyes moistened.
“No. No tears on your birthday.” He took the bracelet and hooked it
around my wrist. “Looks beautiful on you.”
“Thanks.” I didn’t have any strength to resist. I just wanted to hide in my
room and be left alone so I could cry my eyes out in peace. “Can you take me
to my room now? I’m really tired.”
“Hold on a sec.” He checked his phone. “Yup. I can do that now.”
 My eyes narrowed. “What are you up to, Cassidy?”
“You’ll see.”
At my room, I found a huge cluster of people and a cake and festive
noises. Dear God. Another surprise party.
My eyes traveled through the familiar faces. The loving faces. The old
friends. The new friends. Faces of people continuously showing me I was
loved and that I mattered. The people who not only believed I deserved to be
happy but who would go out of their way to help me be happy.
Yet when the face I yearned to see was missing, happiness went missing
too.
 Scene 86
Maggie

I approached Samantha’s ear. “Mike arranged this?”

She licked some whipped cream off her fork. “Not that I know of. It was
Cassidy’s idea.”
I frowned, the laughter and chatter falling annoyingly on my ears. “Do
you know where he is?”
My manager shook her head. Then her eyes flicked to the side. “Ex alert.
Do you need help?”
I looked to the side and saw Kyle coming my way. “Thanks, but I gotta
deal with this.”
“Good luck.” She edged away.
Kyle’s pestle green sweater made his eyes look like a turquoise sea.
Beautiful yet drowning. “I hope you don’t mind me coming to visit you.”
I shuffled to my bed and slowly sat on the edge. “I don’t mind, but I’d like
to know what you expected to find here.”
The bed sank next to me as he sat. “I didn’t expect anything. Maybe I did
when I saw you a couple of days ago, but not now.”
“Why’s that?”
He bent his head. “Your father told me the truth.”
I nodded, my fingers tapping on the bed.
“I came today to tell you that I didn’t deserve you, Maggie. I see that now.
I should have tried to understand you better, seen things from your side rather
than taking hers.”
“It’s not your fault, Kyle. It’s just the way you are. Too good to believe
that such horrible things exist. It’s easier to believe I’m a spoiled, self-
centered, bad girl than to believe a mother can intentionally fuck up her
daughter that bad.”
“I’m sorry. I know it’s too late, but I really am sorry.”
“Thanks,” I replied, my voice thick with emotion. “It means a lot to me.”
He stared at me for a few moments, his expression an unspoken question,
and then he rose, putting his paper plate away. “Just know that I’ll always
love you, and if you ever need me for anything, I’ll always be there for you.”
He bent, casting a long shadow over me, and kissed me on the cheek.
I glimpsed Amanda’s face in the crowd. Her big eyes were on Kyle, and
when she saw me, she gave me a shy smile. “Why don’t you go say hi to
Amanda? You know…she’s good. Like you.”
He pulled back, took a deep breath, and nodded. “Goodbye, Maggie.”
“Goodbye, Kyle.”
 Scene 87
Mike

As if they hadn’t existed, Mike walked among the paparazzi blocking the
hospital entrance and hammering him with questions. He took the elevator
and walked down the hallway to Maggie’s room. Soft music hummed
through the door. He thought about going in, but he knew the party would
end the second she saw him.
Someone opened the door, and before he could duck behind one of the
guards, his eyes met Maggie’s as she reclined on the bed. She nodded for him
to come inside, but he shook his head. He didn’t want to talk to her in front of
everyone.
The visitors began leaving one by one, as if on cue, until there was only
Nick and Cassidy with her.
“Gennaro, better late than never,” Cassidy said, motioning for Mike to
enter. “We saved you some cake.”
Mike sighed, looking at Maggie for confirmation, and she nodded again.
When Mike got in, Cassidy started a conversation with Nick about some
house renovations and dragged Nick to finish it outside.
“Subtle,” she said.
“Very.” He adjusted a pillow behind her head and sat on the bed next to
her.
“You missed the party.”
“I didn’t know you were having one.”
“Liar.” She paused, and he looked down. “Jim told me you’ve been
arranging this together, and you told him this morning to say it was his idea.”
He pursed his lips. That asshole couldn’t keep a secret. “Well, I
technically didn’t miss it. I arrived late and waited outside. You know I’d
never miss your birthday.”
“Where were you?” she asked softly.
“Getting your present.” He reached inside the pocket of his jacket and
pulled out some papers. A contract. “Here. I convinced the other partners to
sell Dark Hopes and made arrangements with Robello to buy it as an indie
with the same terms. You don’t have to worry about finding a new producer.”
Pain seared through him as he spoke.
Maggie read through the contract and cried. “Mike, you didn’t have to do
this. All I wanted was to have it back.”
“If I can’t be a part of it, the least I can do is help you find a new home for
it.”
“This is so hard already, and you’re making it even harder.”
He reached for her hand. “I didn’t mean to. I thought I was helping.”
“You are helping. No one has ever helped me more than you. That’s why
it’s so hard. You gotta stop taking care of me and start taking care of
yourself. Ignoring your issues to fix mine isn’t a heroic sacrifice like you
believe. It’s what got us here in the first place,” she said, tears drifting into
her mouth. “Living in denial rips you apart on the inside. You have to find a
way to face what happened to you so you can make peace with it somehow.
Not easy, I know, and it might never happen, but you gotta try.”
He didn’t want to hear it. He shook his head, refusing to listen. “I can
handle my pain. It’s yours that I can’t take.”
“Stop doing this. You can’t handle shit. You can’t even say what she did
to you out loud.” She winced. “You’ve been raped, Mike. Do you understand
how horrific that is?”
A sharp jolt of pain resonated through him. She was right. He couldn’t
even say the word in his head, and hearing it fell so heavy on his soul. The
weakness and the fear he felt at the moment was so much to bear he
trembled. Quaked.
“I’m so sorry for being such a bitch right now, but someone had to say it,”
she said. “Go to therapy, Mike. People like us need it. I’ve talked to the
therapist here a few times, and it’s not so bad. Uncomfortable as fuck, but not
bad.”
“I will. I promise you.” He squeezed her hand. “But please, amore, it
doesn’t have to be like this.” He felt as if he was choking on his own heart.
“It doesn’t have to end.”
Her eyes lifted to the ceiling, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Yes, it
does. Why can’t you understand?”
“How can I when it means losing you? I can’t lose you, Maggie.”
She moaned in pain. “We were never meant to be. Life never gave us a
chance. Everything stood against us right from the start. Even before we
started.”
He brushed the tears from her cheeks and squeezed her hand again. “I
know I should’ve told you. I know what I did was terrible, and I deserve to be
punished, so punish me. But don’t leave me.” His lips shivered. “It will kill
me, Carolina. I’m begging you. Please stay with me.”
She didn’t respond, and he stared at her, willing her to look at him.
After a long silence, she glanced at him, and then leaned into him, crying
harder.
He embraced her, and then kissed her lips until he could feel his tears
filling his eyes. When she drew back, he felt a tightness in his stomach as he
saw what she wanted to say written all over her face.
“I can’t. I just don’t know how.” With her head down, she pulled her hand
from his, and he knew it was time for him to go.
His chest burned with the pain of loss, and he couldn’t fight his tears
anymore. He rose, his lips parting with a silent moan. “You’ll always be my
Carolina.”
He lost her. His best friend. The love of his life. The only person who
truly understood him. The only woman he’d ever wanted. All gone.
He lost her.
PART FIVE

HOME
 Scene 88
Maggie

Coming home at midnight to find Dad in his pajamas curled up in front

of the TV wasn’t something I could ever get used to. Just like walking in this
house without Andrea’s threatening presence. Even though it was
theoretically safe now, and completely redecorated to a style that suited me
and Dad, I still heard the occasional clacking of heels and Andrea’s mocking
voice; the image of the taunting eyes still haunted me.
However, I refused to let Dad sell the penthouse and move somewhere
else. No matter how impossible it may have seemed, I had to learn how to
live here.
I rested my elbows on the back of the couch, smiling. “Daddy?”
“Hey, sweetie.” He yawned, stretching his legs. “You’re early.”
I rolled my eyes at the sarcasm. “You know you don’t have to wait up
for me every night?”
“Yeah, but I want to.” His hand patted the free cushion beside him.
“Sit. I haven’t seen you all day.” He shook his head. “In fact, I haven’t seen
you all month.”
“The final month of shooting is always hectic.”
“I didn’t know making a movie could be that overwhelming.” He
motioned for me to sit. “Why are you still standing?”
“I’m going to bed. I’ve just pulled a fourteen-hour day.”
“You can’t spare an hour for your old man, who’s been waiting up for
you every night, hoping to spend some quality time with you?”
“Oh, not the guilt trick.” I slumped on the couch beside him. “What are
you watching anyway?”
“Here. You choose.” He handed me the remote. “How was your day?”
“All right. A little tense ‘cause we’re wrapping tomorrow.”
 “Finally. Now we can take some time off. Go on a fishing trip or a
Eurotrip.”
“I wish.” I flipped through the channels aimlessly. “But the director’s
work is never finished when a movie wraps. I still have tons of things to do.”
He sighed in disappointment, and I glanced at him. I’d been avoiding
long eye contact with him. With anyone. For the first time in months, I took
his face in. He’d aged more in the past few months than he had in years.
Around his warm eyes, deep wrinkles were visible even in the dim light of
the living room. The sag of his cheeks made him look sad, or perhaps it was
the other way around.
“We still can go fishing on the weekend,” I said.
“Now you’re talking.” His face lit with joy. “You know what else we
should do? Invite Jim to dinner tomorrow. To celebrate…wrapping. He
should go fishing with us, too.”
I puckered my lips, flipping through channels faster without looking.
“Is there anything decent on?”
Then a voice made me glance up at the flat screen. Mike’s.
“Apparently not,” Dad said. “Give me that.”
“Just…” I scratched the back of my head. “Let’s watch. These
interviews only take a few minutes.”
“You said you were tired. Why don’t you go to bed?”
I bit a fingernail, leaning forward, watching and ignoring Dad’s
growling. Mike was wearing a white T-shirt and dark blue jeans, his hair a
little shorter than normal and his stubble light, as if he’d just shaved for the
show.
“Mike, you won an Oscar for your performance in Black Sheep this
year. How come you haven’t taken any new projects yet?”
“For years, I’ve been cornered in a certain image as a performer. Then
Black Sheep happened, and everything changed. It’s a tough act to follow. I
need to be very careful with my choices from now on, now that I have the
liberty to do so.” Mike shifted in his seat. “Until this moment, I haven’t found
a voice that spoke to me in the same way Black Sheep did. Probably, I won’t
find one again, but I’m hoping for something close.”
“Does that mean you’re holding another contest?”
“Yes, and…we’re thinking about making it annual, too. A friend of
mine once said: look for fresh voices and undiscovered talents, and let the
world amaze you with what it’s got.”
I enveloped myself with my arms.
“So the rumors of you quitting aren’t true?”
“Definitely not true. Even if I want to quit, I can’t. The same friend
made me promise I wouldn’t do that.”
I smiled.
“That’s great news. I’m sure your fans all over the world will be
delighted to hear that. How many movies have you made so far?”
“Around thirty.”
“All with different directors?”
“Mostly. But I’ve worked with Sammy O’Reiley and Mason Mills
more than once.”
“Have you worked with any female directors other than Maggie
Dawson?”
He cleared his throat. “No. She’s the only one.”
“How different, in your opinion, is working with a female director?”
“Every director is different. Every time you work with one, it’s a new
experience in terms of vision and skills and delivering instructions. I don’t
think it has anything to do with gender, but if you’re asking about The Kid in
particular, I can assure you she’s no kid.” His eyes dimmed. “She’s one of
the…toughest directors I’ve ever worked with.”
The host bobbed his head. “And when you’re attracted to the director,
does it make it easier or more difficult?”
I took a sidelong glance at Dad, my head still. His lips were twisted,
and his arms were crossed over his chest.
Mike scratched his eye, chuckling. “It makes it…complicated.”
 “Does that mean you’ll never work together again?”
He stared at the host, taking a deep breath, his poker face dropping.
“I’d do…anything…to work with her again.”
I held myself tighter. I knew I’d made the right choice taking Dark
Hopes back and casting Jim as the lead instead of Mike, yet there wasn’t a
day I didn’t wish I’d chosen differently.
“Do you keep in touch?” the host asked.
Mike shook his head slowly.
“Is that your wish or hers?”
His eyes glistened, and my heart squeezed. “Hers.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. The whole country was devastated when the
two of you were no longer an item.”
Mike clutched at the chevron bracelet around his wrist as he nodded.
He never took it or the ring off as he promised. I knew because I’d been
looking at his hand in every appearance he’d made. The tabloids had been
looking, too. They mentioned the accessories on every possible occasion.
Swiftly, the blue ring and bracelet had become a token. A fad that made the
jewelry store I bought them from a fortune.
“How long has it been since the breakup?” the host asked.
Mike swallowed, pushing his hair off his face. “Five months.”
“Are you currently in any kind of relationship?”
He rolled his eyes, his lips stretching with a fake smile. “In
Hollywood, five months is more than enough time to move on, but when you
break up with your soul mate…there isn’t enough time in the world.”
I heaved a long sigh, struggling not to cry.
“Even when she has moved on?”
“Moved on?” Dad snorted.
Mike lifted one shoulder in a shrug of resignation. “If she’s happier in
her new relationship, I’m happy too. That’s all I want. For her to be happy.”
I felt a sudden urge to tell him all the rumors about me and Cassidy
weren’t true. Fuck. Rising to my feet, I pressed the red button. “You were
right. I should go to bed. Good night, Dad.”
I stalked to my room. My tears broke free in abundance as soon as I
closed the door. Rapidly, I changed my clothes and slid under the bed covers,
starting my nightly ritual. Crying myself to sleep. And when that didn’t work,
and missing Mike was too much to bear, which was almost every night, I’d
go through my recently-bought collection of DVDs, and play one of his corny
movies I’d always hated. It made me feel like he was watching me in my
sleep as he used to do.
A knock on the door followed by Dad calling my name snatched me
out of my pitiful thoughts. I didn’t answer, pretending to be sleeping.
“Maggie, I know you’re up.”
I exhaled. “And you know the door is unlocked.” One of the many
downsides of surviving two suicide attempts. Never having a locked door
again. That and seeing a shrink regularly for God only knew how long. Oh,
and the best one of them: no drugs or alcohol.
Dad’s sigh was louder than his feet as he turned on the lights. My
swollen eyes suffered as I adjusted to the brightness.
“How long are you going to keep doing this to yourself?” he asked
with a grimace. “You think I don’t hear you every night?”
I closed my eyes, biting a fingernail.
He sighed again as the bed sank beside me. “Maggie, listen. You know
how much I hate Gennaro. Hate his guts.”
My fingers combed through my hair as I opened my eyes again. “I
know.”
“But I’ll be forever in debt to that man…for finding you that night.”
His voice quivered.
“What do you want to say, Dad?”
“I’m saying that you have two choices here. Either you move on for
real, and by that I mean you throw away those goddamn DVDs and allow
another man, a decent one, into your life. Or…you go back to Mike.”
“You know I can’t go back to him.” My voice rose, and I hated how
emotional I was, especially while talking to Dad.
“Why not? Because of me? I don’t want anything more than to see you
happy. Because of you? You’re still in love with him, Maggie. Just as much
as you were five months ago.”
I curled my arms over my head, blocking out the words I knew were
true. “It’s not just that.”
“Is it because of your mother? She’s gone now,” he said. “Baby, I’ll
never forget that day you came to my office telling me about the engagement.
I saw a glimmer of happiness in your eyes that I’ve never seen there before or
after. You can’t let her take that away from you. She ruined your life when
she was alive, and she did what she did to herself to ruin your future, too.
Don’t give her what she wanted. Don’t let her have that power on you
anymore.”
I sniffled. “It’s just not that easy.”
“I know, and it’s going to take a lot of work. You have to understand
one thing, though. The only person standing between you and your happiness
now, sweetie, is you. Allow yourself to be happy, Maggie, because you
deserve it.”
 Scene 89
Maggie

The last day on set was almost always the same. The easy schedule.
The pranks. The cake. The sentiments. The goodbyes.
“Congratulations, Kid. You finished yet another masterpiece,” Jim
said.
I raised my brows. “That’s a big word.”
“You’re a big artist.”
“Thanks, Jim. You, too. I really enjoyed making this one.” I loved my
job. It was my crutch. The only motivation left to keep going, holding on to
life. Much to my luck, producers still saw something in me after what
happened, and I received offers that would keep me going for a while longer.
“I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Yes, you could have.” His lips curved up. “With a certain Italian.”
I picked at my cuticles. I had no fingernails left to bite. “I’m gonna…
head to my trailer.”
“Do you mind if I come with? I’d like a word with you in private.”
“Sure.”
Once inside, I turned on the air conditioning and closed the door. “So,
what do you wanna talk about?”
He sat in a chair across from me. “Um…you sure heard the rumors.”
“Which ones? The Oscars or the on-set romance?” I chuckled.
“You think we’ll be nominated?”
“I don’t think. I know you’ll win this year.”
“I know you’ll win, too.”
My laughter filled the trailer. “If I make it to the ceremony this time,
I’m already a winner.”
 “I’ll make sure you do.” His voice lowered, his face determined.
Unsure where this conversation was going, I just smiled. “Thanks.”
“And just to be sure, we should go together.”
I, without losing the smile, looked into Jim’s blue eyes, piercing
beyond the mask shielding them. “If we do that, I think the other rumors will
no longer be rumors.”
“What if…” His broad chest puffed out as he inhaled. “What if they
are no longer rumors?”
I leaned back in my chair, groping for the right words to say. “Well,
Dad will be very happy.”
His perfect teeth flashed at me. “Maggie, I know I told you I was only
looking for your friendship, and that was never a lie.”
“But?”
He swallowed. “Can I have some water, please?”
“Sure.” I went to the minibar behind me and grabbed a bottle. When I
turned, he was standing before me. We were no more than an inch apart, and
it made me gasp for breath. He was hot. Scorching hot.
His eyes sparked. “Some things sort of happen. You can never control
them.” His gaze dipped to my lips. “I haven’t planned for this. I mean, I
know I should have run the second I felt something different for you. The
second I stood fully naked in front of your camera and all I thought about was
whether you liked what you saw or not. The second I hoped you would. ”
My eyes traced the lines of his defined lips. “But you didn’t run.”
“I couldn’t,” he whispered.
“Jim…” Suddenly, the spark turned into a flare, and I felt his lips on
mine. My eyes closed. My words swallowed. He tasted so fucking sweet. Too
sweet like him.
No. Sorry, Daddy. I’d ruin him, destroy him with my darkness. Pull
away. Pull away. I opened my eyes, drawing back.
His breaths trembled on my lips. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
 “Jim, I can’t do this.”
His fingertips caressed my temple. “Tell me this kiss made you feel
nothing, and I’ll never bother you again.”
“I can’t say that.” My tongue licked my lips. “But I’m not right for
you.”
“Would you let me be the judge of that?” His hands were on my waist
now. His eyes held me in place. “Please.”
Both of my hands were on his chest, unconsciously. His shirt was
unbuttoned to his stomach, and I wanted to see the rest of him. The day he
stood fully naked in front of my camera, I did like what I saw. A lot. “Shit.”
He blinked, confused. “Shit?”
I laughed under my breath. “I swear a lot.”
He smiled, leaning in. “I’m aware.”
I felt my skin flush. “I’m dark and twisted.”
“Again, I’m aware.” His face moved closer to mine.
“I’m not over him.” The pitch of my voice went higher. “I might never
be.”
He frowned as he stopped moving. “How will you know for sure if you
don’t try? If you don’t give yourself a chance to move on?” His hand
smoothed my hair. “Give me a chance, Maggie. It’s all I’m asking for.”
Our lips met again. This time he didn’t taste sweet. He tasted like fire.
Fuck. “No!” I pushed him back.
He stared at me, taken aback.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t have another Kyle.” I rolled my shoulders,
trying to ease the tight band of tension there. “I can’t use you or depend on
you to get over Mike. You don’t wanna be my rebound, Jim. If I ever get
over him, I have to do it on my own. Only then, we might have a chance for
something real.”
He bowed his head, uncomfortable silence falling between us.
“But I can really use your friendship.” My eyes burned with tears. “It’s
what I need right now.”
He nodded. “It’s my honor, Maggie. But with your permission, I’d like
to stay hopeful we can be something more than that.”
I hugged him. “Hope is good. I can use some of that, too.”
 Scene 90
Maggie

SEVEN MONTHS LATER

OSCARS NIGHT

The dreary sky of the afternoon had cleared, and the beautiful night
was a few minutes away when the limo stopped in front of the Dolby Theatre.
Jim climbed out first, fastening the button of his tuxedo jacket as he stood.
Then I ambled out of the car.
I took his arm as our names were called from several directions, the
pop and flash of cameras erupting, illuminating our skins.
“Maggie, this way!”
“Jim, quick! Over here!”
“Who are you wearing?”
“Are you here tonight as a couple?”
Jim and I smiled and posed for pictures, and then waved as we made
our way on the red carpet.
He bent his head to my ear. “You’re good?”
“More than good. This is fabulous. Too loud but fabulous.”
He posed for more pictures. “You’re fabulous. You look like a
fairytale.”
My cheeks warmed. “Thank you. You look great, too.”
We took a few steps forward, and it was time for individual interviews.
“This is where we briefly part,” he said. “Are you going to be all
right?”
“Yeah. Go do your thing. It’s your day, Jim.”
 “Mine and yours.” He smiled. “Wait for you by the stairs.” He stepped
over for his first interview of the night.
“Maggie, how do you feel about being here for the first time?” A
microphone was shoved in my face.
I grinned at the brunette in a black dress. “It’s amazing. Makes me feel
very stupid for missing it last year.”
“We’re all glad you’re here. You look stunning. Who are you wearing
tonight?” the interviewer’s eyes raked me from head to toe. The soft waves of
my chin-length hair. The dramatic, retro makeup with dark red lipstick. The
bare shoulders. The long-sleeved, A-line black gown, bodice embroidered
with silver thread, regal velvet fitted to my waistline, black satin skirt with a
pattern of intertwined hues of red, blue and gray, and a slit that reached up to
the middle of my thigh. The cherry blossom bracelet. The black, suede wedge
heels with three straps up to the ankle.
“Amira Vinito. She’s a new designer. Very talented. Made this
especially for me to wear last year, but I disappointed her. I decided to wear it
this year to make it up to her.”
“I think she’ll be more than grateful now. When you look like this,
everybody is going to want to wear her gowns.”
“Thank you.”
I moved from one interview to another, treated almost like I was on my
way to a coronation. More comments on the dress and the look. Someone
said I looked like Ida Lupino, a powerful, hot actress and director in the
forties.
“Do you think you’ll win this year?”
“We’ll find out in a couple of hours,” I replied.
“There’s a theory going around that a director can’t win unless she
looks like she’s filled with angst and suffering and pain, and you look very
cheerful.”
“Well, I don’t think Lucindo was filled with more angst and suffering
and pain than I was last year, and he still won.” I laughed, proud of my ability
to make jokes about my past calamity. The ability to laugh at the jokes, too.
The certainty I had moved on.
“How do you feel about Mike Gennaro presenting Best Director?”
Moved on and became strong enough to accept the past as it was.
“Makes me want to win even more this year.”
 Scene 91
Maggie

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Academy Award winner Mike

Gennaro.”
The lights changed in the theatre along with the screens on the stage as
Mike emerged in a dashing white tux. I clapped with the audience,
mesmerized by being the closest to him I’d been in almost a year. At this
moment, I was supposed to think of nothing but the anticipated award, yet as
I stared into Mike’s eyes, all my thoughts revolved around him and him
alone.
Jim held my hand, and I glanced at him. He was smiling, yet his eyes
were anxious. “Are you excited?” he asked, a thousand other questions on his
face.
I looked back at the stage. At Mike. “Very.”
Mike cleared his throat, holding an envelope—the envelope—with
both hands. “Since 1929— the year of the very first Academy Award
ceremony—only one woman has ever won the Academy Award for Best
Directing. Tonight, this could change.” He paused while the audience clapped
again.
I smiled as people looked in my direction, and Jim squeezed my hand.
“Here are the nominees for Best Directing.”
A clip played on the big screen above Mike. DIRECTING appeared in
all caps next to a statuette. Prerecorded clips of a star from each movie saying
a few words played while Mike announced the names of each nominee and
their movies before each clip.
For Dark Hopes, Jim was the one talking on the screen.
“She likes to create these worlds that let us see the other side of things.
Because according to her, everything is not what it seems. She sees beyond
the hero and beyond the villain. For instance, she takes the best looking guys
and turns them into dark and twisted characters to bring that side of the
villain we don’t notice or don’t want to notice. The best part is that she brings
it out not only for us to see, but to love, too. That’s the brilliance of Maggie
Dawson.”
I gazed at Jim, mouthing “Wow. Thank you.”
There was another round of applause, and Mike opened the envelope
without looking. “And the winner is…” He stared at the envelope for a
moment or two. Then his eyes lifted from it. Glittery eyes that focused only
on mine. “Maggie Dawson.”
My heart skipped a beat as the theater erupted in applause. In awe, I
stared at Jim, who was on his feet clapping frantically, grinning from ear to
ear. I swore and heard Jim’s laughter as I did. Then I was on my feet, too,
hugging and kissing him. He was saying all kinds of endearing words while
other members of Dark Hopes family congratulated me, surrounding me with
affectionate gestures.
“This is the first Academy Award and second nomination for Maggie
Dawson.”
I walked to the podium to collect the award, flanked by a standing
ovation, my eyes glued to a wet pair of dark brown ones.
Mike’s thumb was at the corner of his eye as I climbed the steps. When
I reached him, the hand holding the statuette was shaking, his free arm
fidgeting. I could tell he was reluctant to hug me. To end his doubt, I opened
my arms.
For a moment, I could hear nothing but the sound of his shuddering
breaths on my shoulder and the wild beating of his heart against my chest.
My arms wrapped around his waist, and I didn’t want the moment to end.
“Congratulations,” he whispered in my ear, and then his lips caressed
my cheek.
My heart throbbed.
As he drew back, his arms lingered on my shoulders and his eyes on
my lips. “You look so beautiful.”
I trembled. “Thank you.”
 He handed me the statuette, my blue gift still on his wrist. His eyes
dropped to my cherry blossom bracelet as he stepped back.
I looked ahead at the fabulous people applauding me. “Wow. Thank
you.” I took a moment to breathe then looked at the camera. “I’ve been called
undecided, a failure, a disappointment, selfish and unworthy by the closest
people to me. Yet today, here I stand.”
The audience applauded while my fingers tightened around the golden
statuette.
“This is a shout out to all of the abused. To those who carry the scar on
their faces or their bodies or their souls for the rest of their lives. You may
think you’ll never heal. You may think you’ll never be happy again, even at
the greatest moments of your lives. But I’m gonna tell you what my father
told me the other day. Allow yourself to be happy because you deserve it.”
I waited the applause out. “It took me a long time to understand that,
but I can assure you that I am happy now, and I’ll stay that way because I
won’t let anything change that. The monster still visits, but I’m strong
enough now to conquer it away. If I can do it, then so can you. It all starts
with the word ‘believe’.”
Another round of applause erupted. “I’d like to thank my friends who
believed in me right from the start, Raoul Garcia and Amanda Baker, and the
friends who had faith in me even in my darkest hours, Don Robello and Jim
Cassidy. And above them all, the idiot crying next to me.”
The audience burst into laughter as I glanced at Mike. “Seriously, stop
it or I’m gonna cry, too.”
He was crying and laughing at the same time, his hand on his chest,
shaking his head.
“Okay. My time’s up. Thank you.” I raised my award for the picture.
Then Mike’s arm escorted me off the stage.
“I’m sorry about that. I just couldn’t help myself.” He wiped the last of
his tears. “Where should I take you? Back to your boyfriend?”
My lips twitched on a smile. “No. To the press room. I wanna return
before Best Actor.”
 I could feel his eyes on me as we walked, even hear the unsaid words
troubling his chest. He finally managed to ask one question. “Is it true?”
“What is true?”
“That you’re happy now?”
I smiled at him. “Yes.”
“Good. Great.”
“How have you been doing?”
“All right. I finally took your advice and went to therapy. Been going
nine months now.”
I smiled again. “That’s great news.”
 Scene 92
Maggie

When I entered the press room, there was a smattering of applause.

The room had gray and wood-paneled walls, gray carpet with pink
patterns, a buffet table of sandwiches and cheese cubes, and a small stage
with two oversized statuettes. There were seven long tables with placards for
news outlets. Reporters with tiny microphones and headsets packed the area.
“How are you feeling right now?” one of them asked.
“Very good, actually. Thank you. It’s a great Hollywood tradition, and
I love being a part of it.”
“Did you anticipate this win?”
“No. I didn’t even think I’d be nominated after last year. Luckily,
Hollywood considers mental, suicidal fuck-ups like me to be worthy artists.
Shit. I shouldn’t say fuck-ups. Man, I shouldn’t say shit either. Maybe I’ll
just swear in Italian from now.” I giggled with the random bursts of laughter.
“That was an inspiring speech you gave, Ms. Dawson. How did you
manage to overcome your crisis as a victim of emotional abuse and come out
a winner?”
“Through several steps. The first one is understanding your condition,
being aware of it, putting a name to it, which helps you identify the problem;
you have been in a toxic relationship. In my case, I had a narcissistic
sociopath for a mother. Those kinds of relationships can destroy lives.
“The second thing is that you need to realize that forgiving your abuser
could be liberating. You do it not because the abuser deserves your
forgiveness, but because you deserve peace. I have to say all that can’t
happen unless you get the support you need, not just through therapy—it
never works alone—but through good, understanding people who are there
for you when you need them.”
“Why was Mike Gennaro in so many tears when you won?”
 “Ask him and tell me.”
“Why did you tell him you were going to cry too if he didn’t stop?”
He might never know it, but his tears lead straight to my soul still.
Make me, just like he once told me, wanna hold him and never let go. I
shrugged. “I just can’t stand his tears as much as he can’t stand mine.”
 Scene 93
Maggie

At the end of the ceremony, Jim and I took an elevator, holding our
statuettes, to the Governors Ball. We pushed through to the back of the
ballroom, down a hallway swathed in red velvet, and found the little corner
room where the winners get their statuettes engraved; a corny Oscar formality
we both enjoyed.
“From now on I’m gonna call you The Maker,” he said as he ushered
me back to the ballroom.
“What?”
“You make winners, Maggie. Your movies made me a winner
tonight.” He looked across the room, where Mike was standing alone, a drink
in his hand. “And Gennaro before me.”
“Your talent made you a winner, Jim.”
He shrugged. “I was never nominated until I worked with you.”
“You think very highly of me.” I shook my head. “I’m just…”
“Beautiful in every way possible.” He gave me his industry smile.
“Would you like to dance?”
“How can I say no to that smile?”
His eyes moved along the line of my throat and across my collarbone
as we danced. “I’m going to miss you.”
I tilted my head to the side. “Going somewhere?”
“You are.” His lips stretched with a sad smile. “I see the way you look
at him.”
I stilled. “Jim—”
“Don’t.” Placing his hand on the small of my back, he sighed and
made me move with him again. “I’ve always hoped you’d look at me that
way, but tonight I realize that day will never come.”
I blinked, struggling to find the right words to say.
“I’m thankful for every moment you allowed me in your company and
the hope and the friendship, but I’d like to be looked at the same way you
look at him.”
My chin dipped to my chest. “I’m sorry. I really tried.”
“Don’t apologize. I knew what I was getting myself into. I have no
regrets.”
“Jim…” My tears betrayed me.
“Don’t cry, please.” His thumb was gentle on my face as he wiped
away the tears. “Just go to him.”
My arms fell to the side. “You’re a better man than he is, Jim.”
“But you’re dark and twisted, and so is he. He understands you better
than anyone. Better than I ever could.”
I sighed as I nodded. He could never be more right.
A beat of silence passed before we both could say our goodbyes.
“Friends?” I asked.
He folded his arms around me. “Always.”
 Scene 94
Mike

Mike tore his eyes from the sight of them dancing, his teeth buried in
his lip. The air felt heavy and humid, and it clung to his tongue as he
swallowed. He crossed to a line of large tables dressed in white and dripping
in crystal. Reaching for another drink, he heard a gown swoosh on the floor
behind him. Probably another woman he’d have to turn down. Don’t they
know I’m not interested anymore? He blinked over to see Maggie standing
there.
At this moment, he hated how his heart thumped every time he laid
eyes on her. He glanced across the dance floor, wondering where Cassidy
went.
“He left for the Vanity Fair,” she said.
His brows furrowed. “Alone? Why?”
“I don’t feel like going anywhere,” she said. “I just wanna go home.”
He took a deep breath, scratching his jaw. “Do you need a ride?”
“Yes.” She stepped closer. “Do you mind lending me your phone?
Mine is dead…as always.”
His eyes dropped to the floor as her fragrance played with his heart.
“Just take my limo. I’ll arrange for another ride.”
“How about we share it?”
“You sure you can endure me that long? It’s a whole thirty minutes to
your house.”
“I’ll manage.”
He glanced up, and he saw radiance in her eyes and a curve to her
mouth. “When would you like to go?”
Her hand went through his arm. “Now.”
 Scene 95
Mike

Mike kept looking through the dark window of the limo, listening to
the sound of Maggie’s breaths. He stole a glance or two or ten at the bare skin
of her thigh, imagining the feel of it under his touch before looking back
through the darkness.
“Do you mind if I stop by your house for a minute?” She finally spoke.
Her question startled him. He looked at her with amazement in his
eyes.
“I left something there. Something important, but I never had the guts
to return and take it back,” she added.
He nodded, hesitant. The idea of her in his house, the house that
witnessed their love from the declaration to the ending, was too much to bear.
Yet he couldn’t say no to her. “I haven’t been living there since.” He didn’t
know why he had the urge to say that, and she didn’t comment.
They arrived at the house, and Mike turned on all the lights. He stood
in the living room, stiff, his eyes focused on nothing.
She wandered around. “Too many memories here.”
“Yes,” he whispered, volunteering no more.
“There’s something about tonight that reminds me of our first night
together.”
“Only you didn’t break up with your boyfriend and run to me.”
Her body quivered with laughter.
Although she was mocking him, the sound of her laughter was nice to
hear. “I’ll wait here while you look for that thing.”
The swoosh of her dress and the sound of her heels approached him. “I
think it’s upstairs.”
 He motioned at the stairs and dragged his feet away from her. Standing
too close when they were alone was dangerous. Painful.
Sinking in the couch, he peered at the back of her gown as it trailed
behind her. Then his eyes reveled in the sight of her beautiful figure. All
those feelings he’d been stuffing down the past year and struggling with all
evening rose to the surface, impossible to press back down. When she
vanished upstairs, he held his head in his hands, freeing a few tears.
Then he undid his bowtie, took off his jacket and waited for what
seemed like an eternity for her to come down, thinking about going up to…
help her find what she was looking for. After long deliberations with himself,
he was convinced it was the right thing to do.
He took the elevator because the stairs would take too long. The door
was open, yet he knocked.
“It’s your room. You don’t need permission to come in,” she said.
He faltered at the door, summoning all his strength not to think about
the fact that they were together alone in their old bedroom. The place where
he first made love to her.
He cleared his throat as he took more steps inside. She was sitting on
the bed, her heels off. “Have you found it yet?”
“Not yet. But I won’t give up.”
“Maybe you can tell me what it is so I can help you look.”
She just sat there for a while, and he couldn’t help watching her chest
rise with every breath and picturing images of her body on him. He wanted to
touch her, make love to her, and have her love again. Tell her about the
unbearable days and nights he’d spent without her. The tears he’d shed. The
hole she punched in his chest. Yet he knew he couldn’t.
“Are we gonna look for that thing or what?” he asked, lowering his
head, filling the silence.
She finally rose. Then she took his hand in hers, surprising him. “Why
can’t you look at me?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
Why do you think? He grimaced, jamming his free hand in his pocket.
“I haven’t seen you in a year. I can’t trust myself when you’re standing this
close to me, looking like this… especially here.”
“You’re a fucking idiot.”
His lips pursed as he shrugged. “Always been.”
She dragged him with her as she went to stand in front of the mirror.
“Look at me. Tell me what you see.”
He sighed, closing his eyes at the memory. “Maggie…”
“Please.”
He bowed his head, taking long breaths and exhaling them, squeezing
her hand.
“Just look at me and tell me if I’ve changed.”
His head lifted, and he stared, reliving moments, remembering it all.
“Yes. You have changed.”
She smiled. “How?”
“Your posture. Your stance. Relaxed. Confident. You look like
someone who has found peace and accepted herself as a whole, not just the
good parts.”
She gazed at their reflection for a while before she twirled. “Now look
at me and tell me if you still think I’m your soul mate.”
His throat tightened as he realized once again how much he loved her.
“I can’t take this. Can you just please…” He let go of her hand. “Why are
you doing this to me?”
“Don’t you understand yet?”
He looked at her and stopped breathing for a second.
She sighed in frustration. “Do I have to make the first move every
fucking time?”
His pulse spiked as if he’d run a mile. He didn’t trust himself to speak.
“I feel exactly the same way you’ve just described me. I finally believe
that I’m worthy of success. Worthy of love.” Her palms hugged his face, and
he shuddered. “I have found peace, Mike. I’ve accepted what happened to
me, and what happened to you.” A gorgeous smile lit her face even more.
“I’ve also accepted the fact that you are the only man I can be happy with.”
“Maggie…” He choked on his tears.
“Would you please stop crying?”
His breaths came out loud. “Leaving you that day was the hardest thing
I’ve ever had to do. I have never gotten over you. Never can. That kind of
heartache… I can’t deal with that kind of heartache again. You can’t just say
these things unless you’re absolutely sure you can do it. You can’t just try or
take it slow or any of this shit.”
“I’ve already made up my mind. You’ve always been the only thing I
was absolutely sure about.” Her tongue brushed across her lips. “I just need
to know if I can…you know…before we can resume where we left off.”
His body trembled with the same anticipation he’d felt the first time
they were together. She looked at him, her eyes hazy, and a jolt of desire
sparked in his groin. He leaned in slowly. His lips touched hers. And she
kissed him back.
She kissed me back.
With eyes fluttering closed, he moaned. “God, I missed you, Carolina.
God, I missed you!”
They tasted each other’s tears as their separation dissolved into
passion. His fingers stroked her neck, then her shoulders, while he paused
between touches to measure her reaction.
She touched him through the cotton of his shirt. Then she started to
undo the buttons. He watched her and listened to her little whimpers as she
uncovered his skin. Her hands slid on him, exploring his body once again.
“How did you get even hotter?”
He shook his head. “How did you?”
She smiled. “It’s the dress.”
“I’d like to prove you wrong.” His fingers lingered on her back,
waiting for permission to get her out of her clothes. When she nodded, he
breathed out and slowly unzipped the gown.
Glancing up at him, she yanked at the top, got her arms out of the
sleeves and then dropped it to her waist. He swallowed at the sight of her
breasts in the strapless, black bra. Then the whole gown pooled around her
feet on the floor, letting him know she was completely naked down there the
whole night.
His breaths snagged as he marveled at her beauty. “I wanna touch
you.” He finally lifted his gaze to her face, putting all his longing and desire
in his look.
She stepped out of the gown and into his arms. His hands caressed her
back, her arms, her shoulders as he felt their heated skins press together. He
unclasped her bra and the feel of her breasts on his chest made him lose his
fucking mind.
She pulled back, her breath short. “I need to do something.”
“Whatever you need.”
She took a deep breath and lifted her mouth to his neck. Her tongue
licked him. He flinched in response, hissing a breath. Then he winced as he
understood why she had to do that.
“It has nothing to do with her. I’ve always been sensitive there,” he
said before she’d jump to conclusions.
“I know. This is for me. I need to know if I can do it without…”
“Puking,” he finished the sentence for her, his heart in shreds.
A sigh stroked his throat. “Without thinking of that night,” she
corrected.
“Can you?”
“Yes.” She kissed his neck and then down his throat. Many times. Her
hands twisted into his hair. “Yes.”
He felt a stream of pre-cum leaking out. “Cazzo.” He took her lips
between his, his fingers deep in her hair. Then he carried her in his arms. She
gasped, and he enjoyed it as he laid her on the bed. Taking off the rest of his
clothes, he cast a thorough look on her naked body in their bed, knowing she
belonged there.
He went on all fours on top of her, his cock ready to tell her what he
couldn’t put into words. To show her how much he wanted her. How much
he loved her. How much he missed her.
 “You need to stop me right away if I do anything…you know,” he
said.
“Just don’t smell it. And don’t call it cunt. I don’t think I’m ready for
those…yet.”
His stomach turned. The words were a painful distraction from the
ache in his dick.
“Mike, don’t think. Just touch me.” She guided his fingers into her
opening. “See how you make me feel?”
A shiver ran through him as he felt the wetness, and he nodded.
“Then touch me. I wanna feel you on me.”
The need in her voice pushed away the dark thoughts. His tongue ran
along her neck while his palms moved over the hot skin of her breasts, her
nipples, down her belly, and up again. He felt her hands on his ass, gripping.
She pulled him closer, but he resisted. Instead, he rubbed his chest against
her, and then he grazed his teeth across her nipple, sucking, blowing across
the hardened peak.
He lifted himself and let his erection glide across her body. “I missed
every inch of you.” He squeezed her breasts around his arousal.
She whimpered a moan as she pressed her palm around his shaft. “I
want you inside me.”
When he pushed inside her, both of them shook with the memory of
what they had once shared. She cried aloud and pressed her fingers hard into
his back while he moved above her. He listened to her sweet moans as he
went deeper. Watched her lips part. The world seemed dreamlike as she
buried her face in his neck and screamed she loved him.
The way she clenched around him made him lightheaded, euphoric,
and he exploded inside her.
They spent the night determined to make up for the time lost. When
they got tired, they rested in each other’s arms, watching each other,
sometimes in tears, sometimes with smiles. By the time they fell asleep, the
sun was rising.
She woke up in the late afternoon with a smile that lit his heart.
 “You never wake up smiling.” He grinned.
“I used to hate waking up. It meant I was still alive and had to face
another day. In case you haven’t noticed, I had a death wish,” she said.
He lowered his head. “And now?”
“You tell me.”
“I believe you have something to live for now.”
“Some things. You are one of them.”
He kissed her. “You’ve grown so much in the past year.”
“It was one hell of a ride, but it was worth it.”
“I love you, Maggie, more than you can ever imagine. Never stopped.
Never will.”
“You’re giving me that look again.”
He nodded. “I am.”
Her fingers played with his curls. “I love you, too.”
His heart fluttered, and he kissed her hand. “I want you to break up
with Cassidy today.”
She giggled.
“This is no joke. I want the whole world to know right away, and I
want a big wedding, and…”
She put her fingers to his lips to keep him from speaking. “I was never
with Jim, Mike. I couldn’t,” she said softly. “You really thought I’d sleep
with you if I was with another man?”
Stunned, he stared at her. Then he rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Fuck.
I’m so fucking stupid.”
She giggled again. “Yup. The second decent man I ditch to be with an
asshole like you.” She smacked his stomach hard enough to make him wince.
“What can I say? I have a thing for bad boys with foul mouths.”
He pulled her against him. “I so fucking love you.”
They made love again, a confirmation he needed of what they had last
night. Her touch seemed to have taken away his past and his sins. Suddenly,
their time apart didn’t matter anymore. He groaned in ecstasy as she arched
her back, crying out how much she loved and wanted him in the final
shudders of her orgasm.
Home. She’d come back home. She’d come home to him.
The End
 Thanks for Reading!
I’ve lived an emotional rollercoaster with Mike and Maggie and all the
love and angst they’ve experienced. Creating this book took a lot of blood,
sweat and tears. It’s opened a lot of past wounds. My heart bled while writing
these characters and their emotional story, and I pray it has reached your
hearts as much as I intended.
For my readers who have taken that leap with me, reading this book even
though it’s a different genre from what I write, thank you so much. You are
loved.
As this beautiful story comes to an end, I hope you enjoyed this journey
with me as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Please tell everyone you know about this book and leave a review.
Since this is a debut, reviews and exposure are necessities so I can
survive and write more stories :)
Review on Amazon
Review on Goodreads

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 Soundtrack

All These Years by Camila Cabello

Can I Be Him by James Arthur
Next to You by Of Rust and Bone
Let It Go by James Bay
Scared to Be Lonely by Dua Lipa
They Don’t Know About Us by One Direction
Say You Won’t Let Go by James Arthur
Hear Your Heart by James Bay
You Said You’d Grow Old with Me by Michael Schulte
Made to Love You by Dan Owen
Please Don’t Go by Stephanie Rainey
Little Do You Know by Alex and Sierra
Dancing on My Own by Calum Scott
Happier by Ed Sheeran
Heal by Tom Odell
Listen on Spotify
 Also by N.J. Adel

Steamy Forbidden Contemporary Romance

The Italian Heartthrob
Dirty Beats (Prequel Novella)
The Italian Heartthrob
Dark MC and Mafia Romance
I Hate You then I Love You Collection
Darkness Between Us
NINE MINUTE LATER
Nine Minutes Xtra
Nine Minutes Forever

Paranormal Reverse Harem Standalones

All the Teacher’s Pets
All the Teacher’s Pet Beasts
All the Teacher’s Bad Boys
All the Teacher’s Valentines (Sweeter than Chocolate Anthology Novella)
All the Teacher’s Prisoners
All the Teacher’s Little Belles

Reverse Harem Erotic Romance

Her Royal Harem Series
Her Royal Harem: Complete Box set
Fantasy Reverse Harem
Seratis the Goddess of Egypt

Seratis Daughter of the Sun

Seratis War of the Gods
SIGN UP FOR FREE BOOKS & NEW RELEASE NOTIFICATIONS
 Author Bio
N. J. Adel, the author of All the Teacher’s Pets, Her Royal Harem, Seratis
and I Hate You then I Love You series, is a cross genre author. From
chocolate to books and book boyfriends, she likes it DARK and SPICY.
Bikers, rock stars, dirty Hollywood heartthrobs, smexy guards and men
who serve. She loves it all.
She is a loather of cats and thinks they are Satan’s pets. She used to teach
English by day and write fun smut by night with her German Shepherd, Leo.
Now, she only writes the fun smut.

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