Breaking Free (8 page)

"Please tell me you know his way of thinking—and acting—is completely fucked up." Though he kept his voice level and calm, Tennyson was angrier than he could put into words.

Christ, he wanted to track down Peter Pierce and knock him unconscious.

"I do," Sophie replied with a single nod. "It just stuck with me." She sighed. "Dad's gonna be so pissed." Tennyson wondered if the small smirk was for show. "Am I fucking everything up now? With the production schedule, I mean."

"That’s the last thing you should worry about." Tennyson frowned and linked their fingers together. "
I
haven't even thought about it." It wouldn’t be a problem, though. He could send Noah and the second unit out to do coverage on Claire's and Chris's characters' workplaces. "You focus on getting better."

Sophie hummed, playing absently with one of his fingers, and with her lost in thought again, Tennyson could get his fill. He watched her face, searching for…fuck, just
something
. Something that would make sense of his absurd attraction to Sophie Pierce.

At this point, he couldn’t blame it on simple lust—as much as he wished he could. He knew this ran deeper. He'd grown to care for her, and he was attracted to her even in this broken state.

They were so fucking different.

"Thank you for being here, Tennyson." Sophie's eyes closed slowly, but she didn’t fight sleep.

And Tennyson didn’t leave.

Chapter 10

Sophie left the hospital the following afternoon, and she understood why Daniel had requested security. Several paparazzi crowded her as Daniel helped her into the black SUV.

The strangers online will be sad to learn I didn’t die
.

She could only imagine the comments.

"Your dad keeps calling, darling," Daniel said as the driver pulled away from the curb. "Your friends—don’t get me started on them."

"What are they saying?" Sophie relaxed in her seat and flipped through one of the pamphlets the dietician had given her. It was still weird to think how much she was supposed to eat. The dietician had been horrified when he'd learned she tried to stick to eight hundred calories a day. "I bet they're brimming with genuine concern."

Daniel snorted quietly, going through her old phone. "I think you should ignore them until they get the message. They don’t fucking deserve you."

Not so long ago, they'd deserved each other because Sophie had been just as bad. She couldn’t really let that go. It was too recent.

"Most of them are pissed that you're dodging their calls," Daniel murmured. "A couple said you look hot in the pictures."

Sophie let out a breath, unmoved. Maybe Daniel was right. Maybe she could ignore them altogether. But she knew she couldn’t ignore Dad forever.

After this movie, she'd only need one more paycheck, and then she'd be in the clear. It had taken her a year to repay the debts that were in her name; the salary for this film put her at zero.

However, she still lived on his dime, and that had to change.

Years of constant partying, shopping, and experimenting with drugs had cost her a lot, both in money and freedom.

"When did Tennyson leave yesterday?" Sophie had slept most of the day, and Tennyson had been there—either dozing off or just sitting and checking his phone—every time she'd roused from sleep. Until sometime late in the afternoon, when she'd woken up alone.

"Around four or five, I think." Daniel wore a neutral expression, which made him impossible for Sophie to read. Perhaps she was looking for things that weren't there, but…fuck, she couldn’t help it.

She was crushing on Tennyson.

"I think I want a dog," she said plainly.

Daniel looked at her like she'd gone crazy. "That’s random."

Sophie shrugged and looked out the window. She'd been bored last night, having napped so much that she couldn’t sleep any more. So she'd ended up Googling Asher Wright's work with rescue dogs.

Merely reading about it had given Sophie a sense of closeness to Tennyson, but more than that, she wanted to help. She wanted to be a good person and give back, and damn it, she wanted company she could trust.

"Can you look it up for me?" she asked. "I'll only do it if the dog won't suffer from traveling with me." She was done jet-setting between New York, LA, and various exotic resorts, but she would still be traveling for shoots and PR.

"You're serious," Daniel said.

"Do you want it in another language, or…?" Thanks to one of her old nannies, she was almost fluent in Spanish, and she'd studied French in high school.

Daniel could take his pick.

"There's the Sophie I know." He grinned. "All right, I'll look into it."

"Thank you." She smiled to herself and traced invisible patterns on her yoga pants. "And give me the damn phone. It's time to be yelled at."

Daniel gave her a sympathetic look and handed over her phone.

She didn’t even miss the pink, sparkly thing. Hell, she was pretty sure she could get it back now, but she didn’t want it anymore.

Scrolling down to her dad's cell number, she pressed
Call
and didn’t have to wait long. For once.

"About fucking time, Sophie."
Nice greeting.

"Hi to you too, Dad," Sophie said dryly.

"Don’t give me attitude,"
he warned.
"I was worried sick, and then I learned that you had to be brought in by ambulance because you forgot to fucking eat. Toddlers know when they're hungry! How is it that it takes a hospital stay for you to get it? Are you that
fucking
stupid?"

That was like a slap in the face, but Sophie refused to show how easily he could hurt her. "It won't happen again," she replied numbly.

"Damn right, it won't."
He paused.
"Listen to me now, Sophie. I only want what's best for you. You asked for a serious role, and I gave it to you, but it's obviously not working. You'll finish your job in Vancouver, and then I want you home. You're happier here, anyway—"
He broke off to shout something to someone in the background. His assistant or, hell, even his wife?
"Okay, I'm back. So what do you say? Aren't you happier here where you can shop whenever you want, go out with your friends, and leave work to the grown-ups?"

There it was.
Grown-ups
. Dad would never see her as one, and not because of her age but because he thought she was too dumb. His wife got the same treatment.

No one had been more furious than Dad to learn about her partying ways, but he preferred that over her breaking free. Scandals for rich girls were a dime a dozen, so it wasn’t like Dad got very embarrassed. He worked with plenty of men who were in the same position.

"You're right." The lie tasted like acid, but she wanted to get away from him before he could do anything to stop it. "Can I go shopping tomorrow? It might make me feel better." She ignored Daniel's
what-are-you-playing-at?
look.

"Of course,"
Dad replied. And thing was, he enjoyed this. When she used his credit cards, he owned more of her.
"Go buy shoes or whatever. You're good at that."

Sophie wrapped up the call, though not before Dad had ensured she knew what her little spectacle had cost in delaying the production two days.

*

"You've made some good friends here," Daniel said.

Sophie nodded dazedly as she looked around her trailer. The set had been oddly quiet when they'd rolled in, no one there to greet her. She'd at least hoped for a simple hello and how're-yous from Noah and Brooklyn—even Tennyson—but now she got it. Daniel had likely asked for privacy, and instead they'd welcomed her back in their own way.

There was a bouquet of colorful flowers from the film crew on her little dining table. Noah had bought her a teddy bear and taped—actually taped—candy bars to it, which was totally funny. Brooklyn had dropped off a stack of magazines and a fruit arrangement from her and the makeup team. Claire, an actress Sophie had really come to look up to, had given her an e-reader and a gift card to fill it with books.

Sophie was blown away by their kindness, and it helped ease some of the embarrassment for collapsing right before a scene.

There were other items—notes, cards, more flowers—and Sophie sprang into action by asking Daniel to write a list of everyone who'd been so nice to her. She had to thank them properly.

Once she felt better, Daniel was quick to remind her.

She grudgingly changed into a top and a pair of pajama shorts, then got under the covers with several of her homecoming gifts. She'd never had an e-reader before because…well, because reading was for nerds. God, she'd been filled with more air than a blow-up doll.

Now she was looking forward to buying a bunch of books on topics she wanted to know more about. Such as being a good pet parent.

"Tennyson wants to see you when you're up to it," Daniel said, dropping a protein bar next to Sophie.

"Dude, again? I just ate before we left the hospital!" She wasn’t complaining—much—but jeesh. "Tell Tennyson he can visit me whenever he wants to." She tried not to sound too eager at that.

Daniel smirked. "Uh-huh."

"Shut up," she told him and bit into the protein bar. It wasn’t too bad. Maybe a little dry, but it had chocolate chips in it. That was a bonus.

"You know, if I were younger and more immature, I would've pressed you for details about you and Tennyson."

Sophie smiled wryly. "Thank fuck you're old and mature, then."

"Old?" He widened his eyes. "I'm thirty. That’s not old. Don’t give me a complex. Zane might trade me in."

"Whatever you say, Gramps."

Daniel narrowed his eyes at her. "If I'm old, what does that make Tennyson?"

"Thirty-eight," Sophie quipped, giggling.

"I give up." He threw up his hands and headed for the door. "I'll let Tennyson know you're
desperate
to see him."

"Don’t you dare!" she shrieked.

*

The knock on the door Sophie had been waiting for came an hour later when she was fighting off sleep. Setting her e-reader aside, she called out for him to come in, and Tennyson entered the trailer then poked his head into the bedroom part.

"How's the patient today?" he asked, walking farther in. His shades ended up on the nightstand.

"Better, thanks." She stifled a yawn and sat up. "What about you?"

He looked tired, so Sophie wondered if he'd worked too much.

"All good here." He moved a chair closer to the bed and sat down. "I've been blessed with countless phone conferences, one meeting with two producers who flew up here, and going through footage."

Sophie had a feeling Tennyson only liked the last one he'd mentioned.

"Oh—this is for you." He retrieved a small box from his pocket.

A gift? For me?

"You didn’t have to buy me anything, Tennyson." Sophie felt her cheeks coloring, which didn’t happen often, so she decided a joke was in order. Because she didn’t want Tennyson to know just how attached she was getting. "Proposing to me already?" She smirked. "It's only been two dates. Hollywood's gonna think you've knocked me up."

"Open the damn box, Sophie," he chuckled.

She grinned and gingerly opened the little box. Then the humor faded and gave way to something deeper when she saw a delicate silver necklace with a small feather pendant. In the past, she'd received diamonds and lavish handbags that salespeople had picked out. She wasn’t referred to as spoiled for no reason, but this…this had more meaning.

"It's beautiful," she murmured. "Thank you so much. Can you put it on me?" She kneeled up on her bed and extended the box to him.

Tennyson nodded with a dip of his chin and shifted closer. "Have you heard of Alfred Tennyson?"

"Lord," she said automatically, nodding as she held up her hair. Truth was, she'd only vaguely heard of the name before meeting Tennyson, but she'd seen a reference to the poet on his Wikipedia, so she'd looked into it. "You're named after him, right?"

"I am, yeah." Tennyson got quiet as he carefully clasped the necklace, and Sophie tried not to stare. They were so close—mere inches. "Poetry isn't really my thing, but this feather reminded me of a quote of his." He brushed a finger over the pendant before backing away.

She shivered. "Are you gonna tell me it?"

"If you want." Tennyson inclined his head. "It's short, and it goes, 'The shell must break before the bird can fly.' And maybe" —he smiled faintly— "maybe the bird will lose a feather or two in her quest to learn."

"Oh," she mouthed.

She traced the thin chain with her finger, processing the beautiful words. They fit her, didn’t they? Tennyson couldn’t possibly understand just how much she was trying to break free—or from whom—but he'd noticed the changes in her behavior. He knew she was…growing up.

"Thank you, Tennyson." Sophie acted on instinct and hugged him, which was a bad call. It made her want the hug to turn into kisses and lots and lots of sex. His arms circling her intensified that wish, so it was time to lighten the mood again. She broke the hug reluctantly and settled for a teasing smirk. "I thought you picked the feather because I'm light as one."

Tennyson laughed softly and sat down in the chair. "That’s certainly accurate for the moment, isn't it?" There was a pause as the humor faded, and he reached over and playfully tugged on a piece of her hair. "I should let you rest."

"
No
." She didn’t care that came out like half a whine. "You should stay. You could read gossip about us until I fall asleep."

She thought that was an excellent idea.

Tennyson appeared to think it was hilarious. "Is that your version of a bedtime story?"

Blah. Like I'm some kid. Or baby bird.

"No," she admitted. "It's my version of saying I'm tired but don’t wanna be alone because it's fucking boring."

He watched her silently for a moment, obviously debating.

"I can always blackmail you." She grinned to make light of it. "Like, call you Tenny or something."

Tennyson threw her a look. "I would end our Hollywood romance publicly if you did."

Sophie cracked up and scooted farther in. "Come on. Please take pity on me." She patted the empty spot next to her.

"Pity's not the problem," he muttered under his breath. Sophie thought for sure he was about to let her down gently, but then he stood up and came closer. "All right. Make room. But you do the reading if you want to go through those rags. I have no interest in it."