CHAPTER SIX
Tillie walked into Blue Bar for the second time that week, feeling less nervous this go around. In fact, she was surprised by how normal being in the famed Algonquin Hotel already felt. She spotted Oren at the bar, talking with a man in a smart, gray suit. Oren nudged the man and pointed to her, his features lighting with happiness as she made her way to them.
If only his happiness was genuine. Damn Oren Cooper for being such a good actor. He’d played the role of an adoring boyfriend so well, she had to keep reminding herself he never had a proper excuse for abandoning her at this very bar.
Light poured in from the front window, brightening the room’s otherwise dark tones. Tillie passed by the spot the upright piano had been and felt a chill overcome her. She brushed her hands along her cold arms to find her hair standing on end. She would do anything to get to feel the adoring gaze of a crowd again.
Oren snaked an arm around her shoulders as she came to stand beside him. “Stefano Rossi, this is my beautiful girlfriend Tillie Parker.”
The dark-haired man dipped his chin in greeting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Parker. Oren told me all about how talented you are,” he said in a muted Italian accent. Tillie didn’t recognize his name or his face and wondered if he was yet another executive in from California.
“Oh, he exaggerated, I’m sure.”
Oren pointed to the spot where they’d sang together. “I was just telling Stefano about how easily you’d wrapped the guys and gals around your finger the other night.” He kissed her temple. “It’s only a matter of time until we’re making films together, baby. That’s what I always say.”
Stefano polished off the last swig of amber liquid in his glass and placed it on the bar. “I’d love to hear you sing sometime.”
She smiled. “Hopefully there will be a venue soon for that to happen.”
“It’s only a matter of time, I’m sure.” Mario stuck his hand out. “I must be going. The restaurant doesn’t run itself.”
“No, I bet it doesn’t.” Oren shook the other man’s hand. “I’ll bring Tillie by sometime for dinner. There isn’t Italian food like yours out West.”
Stefano’s lips pulled into a tight, humble smile. “I appreciate that.” He looked to Tillie. “Again, it was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Parker. Hopefully I’ll see you again soon.”
As Mario walked away, the bartender placed a glass of champagne before Tillie. She looked around to see if anyone was waiting for one.
“I ordered it for you earlier.” Oren handed her the glass. “Told the bartender pour it when he saw you come in.”
Tillie sipped the bubbly drink to keep herself from smiling. It was harder when they were alone. She couldn’t pass off her reactions as demonstrations of her acting chops.
Oren pointedly placed his glass on the bar and cleared his throat. “Let’s go up to my suite. I can’t go on pretending I don’t want to drag you into the nearest unoccupied room every time you flash one of those coy little smiles.”
Choking on a sip on champagne, Tillie placed the glass on the bar and coughed into her hand. She took in the look of utter seriousness on his face and stepped off her stool in silent compliance. He placed a hand at her back as he guided her out of the bar, through the ornate lobby, past Mathilda the cat, and to the elevator. All the while, nervousness bubbled in the pit of Tillie’s stomach.
Oren exchanged pleasantries with the man running the lift before the three of them rode in silence to the top floor. Once they were there, he led her to a dark-wood door at the end of the carpeted hallway. He pushed it open and stepped aside for Tillie to enter the suite. She peeked over her shoulder before doing so, making sure no one was around to see them. The main room was full of clean lines and romantic embellishments. Dark wood, floral curtains, and geometric wallpaper filled the space, giving it a bohemian air of refinement.
Oren skillfully tossed his hat to the coffee table as he strode past. It landed squarely on a pile of newspapers, pages undoubtedly filled with praise for his performance as Larry. Tillie rested her hands on the top of a high-backed chair. She was too nervous to sit.
“Let’s drop the pretenses.” Oren took a few measured steps toward her, like a jaguar elegantly stalking its prey. “They aren’t working for us.”
“What pretenses?”
Though Tillie wanted to go, her baser instincts rooted her to the floor. She dug her fingers into the chair and fought to maintain an air of indifference. It didn’t work. With a Cheshire grin, Oren looked pointedly at her hands. Tillie frowned and tore them away.
“You know what pretenses.” Oren came to stand beside her. “It hasn’t all been an act, has it?”
Warmth crept into Tillie’s cheeks. She looked down, letting her hair fall like a curtain over her face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Oren’s fingertips grazed her cheek, and Tillie snapped her head up to look at him. His gaze pinned hers as he tucked her hair behind her ear.
“How long have you wanted me, Tillie? Did it start that day at the diner, or was it before that? After my first film? My second film?”
There was no turning back now.
“Longer than that.”
Oren jutted out his chin. “Are you being coy with me again?”
“You were my girlhood crush.” Tillie went to wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, but her mouth had gone dry. “I was heartbroken when you graduated and moved to New York.”
“And now?
“Now I’m here.”
Oren cradled her face in his hands and guided her lips toward his. His touch was gentle, much softer than she expected.
“I thought you were staying away from women.”
“I can make an exception for you.” His lips brushed hers with a feather light touch. “Just give me this one time, Tillie.”
She slammed her palms against his chest. He stumbled back, surprised by the onslaught.
“One time? What kind of woman do you think I am?”
Oren rubbed his cheek like she’d slapped him. In a way, she almost had. How long had it been since a woman had turned him down?
Before he could try to explain himself, Tillie stormed out the door.