2
S
imon spotted Gail immediately. In a sea of
silicone, Botox and spray tans, she stood out. Maybe it was her chest, flat by
L.A. standards, the severe cut of her business suit with its starched white
shirt or the stubborn set to her jaw. Or maybe it was her general disdain for
Hollywood parties and the licentious behavior that went on, and her
unwillingness to dress up and join the fun.
Regardless, Simon had always liked the fact that she wasn’t an
adoring fan—almost as much as he hated it. One would think she’d at least
try
to blend in if she was going to crash the party.
He was fairly certain she hadn’t received an invitation.
“What’s wrong?”
He jerked his gaze back to the stunning blonde sitting in the
booth next to him. A “hot yoga” instructor he’d met about twenty minutes
earlier, her name was Sunny Something, and she was smarter than the stereotype
her short skirt and low-cut blouse brought to mind. She was a nice person, too.
But he was bored. These days the women he socialized with seemed virtually
interchangeable.
“Nothing.” He tossed back the rest of his drink. “Why?”
She angled her head to see where he’d been looking but skimmed
right over Gail. She probably couldn’t imagine such a nondescript woman being of
any consequence to him. If not for the guilt that plagued him, he might not have
given Gail a second thought. When he’d told Ian Callister, his business manager,
that he wished she’d go broke and return to the small town she called home, he
hadn’t meant it literally. He’d been drunk when he made that statement. But Ian
had decided to take revenge for her defection, and Simon had been preoccupied
and angry enough to turn a blind eye. He hadn’t even asked what Ian was up to.
Part of him figured Gail DeMarco deserved whatever she got. The other part
didn’t see why Ian would go to
too
much trouble.
But just yesterday he’d learned that Ian had called all her
clients and “suggested” they might like it better with Chelsea Seagate at Pierce
Mattie. Almost every one of them had promptly switched.
“You were frowning,” Sunny said. “Is there someone here you’re
not happy to see?”
“No,” he lied.
“What did you say?”
She couldn’t hear him for the music. He raised his voice. “Just
getting tired, that’s all.”
“Tired? Already?” She offered him a pout. “It’s barely
ten.”
His lack of interest was an insult to such an attractive woman.
He understood that. If he were a better man he’d pretend to be entertained, but
he simply couldn’t fake it. Not tonight. He did enough acting when the cameras
were rolling. Besides, he didn’t care if she moved on to someone more attentive.
He’d been telling the truth when he said he was tired. He’d been tired since
before he came, hadn’t slept in days. Every time his mind grew quiet, the
regrets that tortured him returned.
“Would you like another drink?” he asked.
She didn’t get a chance to answer. When Gail started making her
way over, he couldn’t help shifting his attention again. She’d located him, as
he knew she would. She was nothing if not focused. And it wasn’t as if he could
disappear into the crowd. He was always the center of attention whether he
wanted to be or not.
What would happen from here on, however, was anyone’s guess.
He’d never dreamed his ex-PR agent would have the moxie to show up at an event
like this, where he’d be surrounded by friends and supporters, not to mention
the regular contingent of hangers-on—people who were willing to kiss his ass
regardless of what he did.
The girl had guts. He had to give her that.
“Simon?”
He looked up at her from beneath his eyelashes, as if he was
too lazy or intoxicated to move. Maybe his temper, and what he’d said to Ian,
had sparked the conflagration that had consumed her business, but he hadn’t
intended for Ian to be quite so vindictive and didn’t want to take
responsibility for it. Barring a few minor faults, Ian was a good manager. He’d
certainly never done anything like this before. She could call Ian if she wanted
to discuss the problem. It wasn’t as if she was entirely innocent; she’d vented
her fury by making a series of unflattering statements that had wound up in the
press.
Maybe when Simon O’Neal grows up, he’ll realize that women are
good for more than just one thing.
Simon O’Neal is his own worst enemy. He hates himself in direct
proportion to everyone else’s admiration. Why is anyone’s guess. The guy’s had
it all. As far as I’m concerned, there’s no excuse for his behavior....
Maybe some people find him attractive. But I wouldn’t sleep with
him if he were the last man on earth. There’s no telling what kind of disease
he’s carrying....
There were other comments he couldn’t remember verbatim.
Something about how he needed more therapy than even a fortune like his could
support. And another about his being a waste of God-given talent, a man without
decency, a charming Dr. Jekyll on-screen and an evil Mr. Hyde off…
“What can I do for you?” he replied, using the same overly
polite tone with which she’d addressed him.
She lifted her chin. “Could I have a word with you,
please?”
Was she crazy? He had no interest in walking off with her.
“’Fraid not. Maybe you don’t remember, but we don’t have anything to discuss
these days. And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m with someone.” He could feel
Sunny’s interest in their exchange; she watched them but didn’t say
anything.
Gail ignored her completely. “It’ll just take a minute.”
He flicked his hand, hoping she’d interpret the gesture for
what it was—an indication that she should take herself off. “I’m busy.”
Unfortunately, she didn’t go anywhere. With a decisive tug on
her tailored jacket, she cleared her throat. “Fine. We’ll talk here. I—I’d like
to offer you an apology.”
He didn’t want an apology. People were beginning to stare, to
realize she was the PR woman who’d dissed him. Everyone would want to hear what
she had to say. He should get rid of her as soon as possible. But she’d just
given him an opportunity to challenge the integrity she clung to like a battle
shield, and he couldn’t resist.
“Are you saying you didn’t mean all the terrible things you
said about me?” he drawled.
She hesitated while searching for words, eventually coming up
with a response designed to placate him without being overtly untruthful. “I
shouldn’t have said them.”
Damn right she shouldn’t have said them! She’d drawn first
blood. She’d been so sanctimonious while sitting on the throne of her PR empire
that Ian had shown her just how vulnerable she was. It’d been tit for tat, no
big deal. And as far as Simon was concerned, their little…
disagreement
was over.
“No problem. I’m willing to let bygones be bygones if you are,”
he said. “Have a nice night.”
“That’s it?” Her blue eyes widened.
He slung an arm around Sunny, slouching into her so he’d look
comfortable and cozy and unlikely to go anywhere. “Were you hoping for
more?”
Her bottom lip quivered as tears filled her eyes.
Ah, shit.
“I was hoping that you might—”
Jerry Russell, the director of his latest project, interrupted
by walking up and bending to look in her face. “What’s going on here? You making
the ladies cry already, Simon?”
“You got trouble, Simon?” someone else piped up, and that was
all it took to send a murmur through the crowd that made everyone turn toward
him.
Tears rolled down Gail’s cheeks. He could tell she was trying
to hold them back but that only seemed to make matters worse. She was
emotionally strung out and under scrutiny.
He had to get her out of here before he wound up on the front
page of the tabloids again. One picture of her sorrowful face and some stupid
paparazzi would report that he’d purposely and vengefully acted to destroy her:
Box Office Hit Simon O’Neal Sends Small-Town PR Girl Packing. Which, thanks to
Ian, was close enough to the truth that he wouldn’t even be able to fight
it.
He couldn’t afford to give his ex-wife any more ammunition for
the bitter war she was waging. If he didn’t clean up his act he’d never gain
even partial custody of his son. The judge had been very firm about that.
People were starting to converge on them. He had to act now to
avoid a spectacle.
“No trouble,” he said with a reassuring smile and, telling
Sunny he’d be right back, slid out of the booth. “It’s damn hot in here. I think
we’ll get some air.”
Taking Gail’s hand, to throw any curious onlookers off the
scent of another disagreement, he led her at a measured pace, nodding and
exchanging greetings as they passed through the other guests to an expensively
appointed back room, one that’d been designated for his use. No one ever
specified what such a room was for because it was for anything he wanted. He
could do drugs in here, have sex, throw a private party…whatever.
He’d never been more grateful for it than now.
“What were you thinking coming here?” he growled as soon as he
closed the door securely behind them. “And for the love of God would you stop
crying?”
She dashed a hand across her face. “I’m sorry. I…I’m
embarrassed, but…I can’t seem to help it.”
Tears made him feel inadequate. Especially coming from her. In
the three years they’d worked together, throughout all the bookings and events
and movie releases and good and bad publicity, she’d always been so composed.
“Try harder.”
“Thanks for the empathy,” she muttered.
Partially so he wouldn’t have to look at her, he crossed the
room and poured a glass of champagne from the bottle that had been put on ice,
then pressed it into her hands. “Here, maybe this will help.”
“I don’t drink.”
He grimaced. “One of the many reasons I don’t like you. Drink
it, anyway.”
She downed it as though it was water and the subsequent
coughing fit distracted her enough that she was able to shut off the
waterworks.
“So what is it you want from me?” he asked. “How do I make
this…go away?”
The shrewdness in her eyes returned. “You mean me? How do you
make
me
go away?”
After taking a second to think about it, he shrugged.
“Basically, yeah.”
“You can say that so nonchalantly after destroying my
business?”
He considered explaining that he hadn’t been as actively
involved as she might imagine, but didn’t bother. He doubted she’d believe him,
anyway. “You need money, is that it?”
“No! I want my former clients back. And not for my sake—well,
not entirely. The way things sit right now, I’ll have to let my employees go,
and…they need their jobs.”
Her situation was that dire?
Already?
He was going to kill Ian. Why’d he have to take it so damn
far? “Fine. I’ll contact a few people, see what I can do to reverse the damage.
Call me next week. Good enough? Will you go home now and…watch TV or reorganize
your cupboards or whatever exciting thing you do in your spare time? Maybe you
can go online and look for a dress that would be appropriate for a party like
this.”
He could tell she was tempted to land a good jab of her own. He
knew she was capable of it. But she held her tongue. With a sniff and a nod, she
handed him the champagne flute and started to leave.
“And, Gail?”
She glanced over her shoulder.
“I don’t have a disease, sexually transmitted or otherwise. I
can provide the test results if you’re interested.”
At least she had the decency to blush. “No. Sorry,” she said,
and slipped out.
3
J
oshua jumped to his feet the moment Gail
breezed into her office. “Did you see it?”
She wasn’t surprised to find him waiting for her. Not after
what they’d discussed yesterday. Looking forward to being able to put his fears
to rest, to reassure all of her employees, she smiled. It hadn’t been easy
eating crow at the party last night—breaking into tears had been downright
humiliating—but as agonizing as those few minutes had been, they’d also been
worth it. Simon had promised to right what he’d done and she trusted he’d follow
through. He wouldn’t want her bothering him again, especially in public; he’d
made that clear.
She’d slept soundly for the first time since dropping Simon
O’Neal from her client roster. After spending an hour at the gym, she’d stopped
off at a different coffeehouse than her usual one, just for a change, and was
really enjoying the new blend. It was a good morning.
“See what?” She handed Josh her coffee while she removed her
jacket and hung it on the rack.
His own smile a bit smug, he held up the folded tabloid he
carried in his other hand.
“Hollywood Secrets
Revealed.”
“No.” She hadn’t even signed on to her computer yet. She’d
skipped that part of her morning ritual because she hadn’t been worried she
might find some damaging anecdote or tell-all about one of her clients in the
gossip blogs or Hollywood e-zines. She wouldn’t have to worry about
that
until she’d recovered some of her list. “Did
Simon do something stupid after I left last night?”
This seemed to take Josh aback. “What do you mean?”
“At the premiere party.”
“You went there? You saw him?”
She sent him a conspirator’s smile. “I sure did.”
His mouth hung open in surprise as she took her coffee. “What
for?”
“To apologize. Why else would I go? He’s agreed to do what he
can to help us get back on our feet. We’re going to be fine.”
Hallelujah!
What a weight had been lifted from her
shoulders. She felt so light, as if she could walk on air—until she noticed that
Joshua wasn’t reacting to this news as favorably as she’d expected. “What’s
wrong? Aren’t you relieved?”
Stumbling back, he reached behind him to locate a seat and sank
into it, clasping
Hollywood Secrets Revealed
to his
chest. “Heaven help me…”
She felt her eyebrows go up. “Heaven help you
what?
I said we
wouldn’t
be filing for bankruptcy. I fixed things. We’ll be okay.” She gave his arm a
reassuring squeeze and sipped her coffee while waiting for him to absorb the
good news. “So…what’s in
HSR
this morning? A mess
for Chelsea Seagate to clean up?”
With a chuckle for poor Chelsea, she started to round her desk,
then stopped. “Why do you look like you just swallowed a marble?” she asked as
her assistant’s horrified expression finally dispelled the euphoria that had
carried her to work this morning.
“I—I didn’t know you planned to make up with Simon. You didn’t
say that. Not exactly. You said you were going to throw a Hail Mary. I thought
that meant you’d try and beg Clint to come back, or…or apply for a loan…or go
after Chelsea’s old clients…or consider branching into fashion and beauty PR. I
never dreamed he’d accept your apology even if you offered him one.”
She remembered the argument she and Simon had had when he’d
been charged with public drunkenness. “Neither did I. He’s been a bear lately,
angry all the time. I must’ve caught him in a benevolent mood.” She gestured for
Josh to give her the paper. “Let me have a look at what’s got you so worked
up.”
Closing his eyes, he dropped his head back as if his neck could
no longer hold it up.
“What’s wrong with you?” She laughed because she couldn’t take
him seriously. He tended to be overly dramatic. And whatever was upsetting him
couldn’t be worse than the problem she’d just solved. Absolute disaster had a
way of putting lesser setbacks in proportion. “Josh? The paper?” she prompted
when he made no move to hand it over.
At last, he held it out. But he didn’t look at her. He acted as
though he couldn’t bear to see her reaction.
Frowning, Gail opened the paper, read the headline—and felt her
coffee cup slip out of her fingers. “Oh…my…God!”
He covered his face and groaned.
Clutching the paper, she jabbed it with a finger. “How did this
happen?”
“It’s all my fault,” he mumbled from beneath his hands. “I…I
met a friend at the paper for drinks. I thought Big Hit should go out with a
bang instead of scuttling off like a dog with its tail between its legs. I told
her she had to be careful how she wrote the story—to protect the magazine and to
protect us. And she was. There’s nothing directly attributed to you. It’s all
hearsay.”
Gail wasn’t even listening anymore. The ringing in her ears
drowned out all other sound as she read and reread the opening paragraph. This
had to be a joke. It couldn’t be happening, not now. But she could tell from
Josh’s body language that it was most definitely for real.
Simon O’Neal Accused of Sexual Assault
An unnamed source from Big Hit PR, the firm that recently slammed
its doors on Hollywood’s biggest bad boy when he started a fight on the set of
his latest movie, has revealed that the trouble between Simon and the owner of
the firm, PR princess Gail DeMarco, stems from an evening the two spent together
almost a month ago. Although details remain murky, and both sides are rushing to
cover it up, there has been talk about a sexual assault....
Ignoring the coffee fanning out on the expensive carpet, Gail
leaned on her desk so she wouldn’t fall. “I’ve never accused Simon of assaulting
me,” she gasped.
“The article doesn’t claim to have proof,” Josh said.
“But the media will be calling day and night, hounding me for
details. If this was true, it’d be the biggest story of the year. And—” She
reached into her purse for her cell phone. No doubt she already had dozens of
messages. She’d turned it off when she went to the gym to save battery power and
hadn’t yet turned it back on. “I’m going to be sick.”
“I know the feeling,” Josh said.
“What made you think I’d ever condone such a lie?” She pressed
the button on her phone that would start the power-up sequence. “Simon is trying
to get custody of his five-year-old son.” She held the paper in front of her.
“Even though none of this is true it’ll give his ex-wife one more stone to throw
at him in court.”
Wearing a sheepish expression, Josh lowered his hands and sat
up. “I wasn’t thinking straight. I was so…angry. And she says
talk.
”
He’d already pointed that out. It didn’t help. “She says I was
Simon’s victim! And now I
will
be his victim. He’s
going to strangle me! He’ll destroy the company, and then he’ll come after me.
And I can’t blame him. Don’t you understand? All he cares about is regaining
contact with Ty. It’s the divorce and what he did to cause it that’s eating him
up inside. This will… Oh, God. I’ll refute it. Of course I’ll refute it, but
that won’t help.”
“He deserved to have his wife leave him. He was cheating on her
with half a dozen other women—”
“I know. It doesn’t make much sense. But he loved her. A lot.
Even I could tell that much.”
Josh got up and began to pace. “I admit, now that I’m sober,
what I did seems…reckless. And impetuous. And foolhardy. But…he gets away with
whatever he does, and I didn’t want to let him get away with what he did to us.
I wanted him to pay a price.”
The phone rang, the sound jangling Gail’s nerves. It was eight
o’clock, the time the answering service transferred all calls back to the
office.
She glanced across her desk but didn’t reach for the handset.
She remained rooted to the spot until Ashley poked her head into the room. “A
reporter from
The Star
is on the phone. They’re
offering loads of money for the exclusive. But…I’m not sure you’re going to be
interested in that.”
“I’m definitely
not
interested.
Tell him so.” She needed to get her bearings, make a plan to stop the spread of
this story. She could do that, couldn’t she? Avoiding this type of disaster, or
minimizing it, was what she did for a living. She’d just never had to do it for
herself.
“Got it.” Ashley lowered her voice. “I know this can’t be easy
for you. I have to admit I didn’t agree with refusing Simon’s business. But now
I don’t blame you one bit. I’m sorry I’ve been complaining behind your back
about what a stupid decision it was.”
“You might try thinking before you open your mouth next time,”
Gail muttered.
Ashley winced. “Not exactly behind your back. Yeah, I guess
I’ll shut up. But…I am sorry. Are you okay?”
No. She wasn’t okay. She was in the middle of the worst
nightmare of her life and couldn’t figure out how she’d gotten there. She was
always the one in the right, the problem-solver, the first with good advice.
She’d made a living out of these strengths, only to have Josh shove her firmly
into the wrong.
Ashley stepped closer. “What can I do to help?”
She curled her nails into her palms. “Get Josh out of here
before I start yelling.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m sorry.” Josh was distraught, but Gail wasn’t ready to hear
his apology. Not yet. Maybe he’d done what he’d done in some misguided attempt
to defend her, to defend them all, or at least get in a good swing at the
Goliath in their lives. Considering the situation, that was understandable,
especially if he’d been drinking. But there was no escaping the fact that he’d
crossed the line, and she was going to pay dearly for it. They all were.
“Josh?” Ashley said uncertainly. “You coming?”
“I’m sorry,” he said again, and burst into a full-blown
wail.
Gail breathed deeply as he ran out. “Let him cry.”
“So…what should I do when other reporters begin to call?”
Ashley was still waiting for direction, and not about how to handle Josh.
“Tell everyone that I’m unavailable. Whatever you do, don’t
even hint that I’m here or put anyone through. Not until I give the word.”
“Does that go for the police? Because they left a message with
the answering service.”
Oh, no…
Ashley wrung her hands. “You’re so white. You’re not going to
faint, are you?”
“Maybe.” Was it just last night she’d gone home and
congratulated herself on having a second chance?
“Should I get you something? A glass of water or— Oh, you’ve
dropped your coffee. Look at the mess.”
A stain couldn’t compare to everything else that was going on.
Gail pointed to the door. “The other line’s ringing. Someone has to answer.”
“Right. Of course. No one will get through. You can count on
me,” she said, and snatched up Gail’s cup before scurrying out.
Bracing herself for what she might find, Gail checked the call
log on her cell phone. Sure enough, she had thirty missed calls. All of which
had been left in the past two hours.
Almost every one of them came from Simon or Ian.
What was she going to do?
She had no chance to decide. A second later, the outside door
banged open and everyone started screaming while trying to stop the man who’d
stalked inside. It was Simon. And he had his eye on her office as he shoved one
person after another out of his way.