41
The morning sun cast shafts of light across the bed sheets and I watched the specks of dust float aimlessly in the air above us. I couldn’t remember a time when I’d slept so well. While I didn’t believe a man was able to chase away all my nightmares, sharing a bed with Marc certainly had a certain comfort factor to it.
I dropped my gaze to his sleeping form beside me. He lay on his back, one arm thrown up and his chest bare. We were alone—Jay and Tim had stayed the night in the separate guest accommodation—but I felt the skin on my cheeks grow hot. OK, so sharing a bed with Marc wasn’t all about comfort. There’d been a lot of heat, too.
Come to think of it, I was experiencing a lot of firsts lately and, as scary as it was, I liked it. I was starting to genuinely trust a man with my heart. It was also the first time I’d allowed myself to be in love. Real, hard to breathe, heart-wrenching love. And it was wonderful. Marc was wonderful.
He was a far cry from the brooding investigator who had strode into my life, and who I’d dismissed as surly and remote. Back then I’d been remote, too. I’d deliberately kept him at a distance because I’d been unwilling to shatter my illusion of my perfect life.
Turned out my perfect life wasn’t so perfect after all and loving a man with a few rough edges was surprisingly easy to do.
“What are you thinking?”
I twisted to face him. I’d been staring at the sunlight again and hadn’t realized he was awake. “Just that real life is far better than make-believe.”
His eyes lingered on the edge of the sheet only just covering my cleavage and I felt a shiver of pleasure. I loved the way he only had to look at me to make me feel wanted.
“Yeah, real life isn’t so bad. Don’t ditch the make-believe altogether, though. You’re pretty good at it.”
“Is that so?” That was practically critical acclaim where Marc was concerned.
“I’ll be running a background check on all of your co-stars from now on, just so you know.”
My smile faded. “Actually, that doesn’t bother me as much as it should. But I’m planning on doing more behind the cameras from now on.”
Marc sat up and now it was my turn to appreciate him.
He gave me a cocky grin like he knew exactly what I was thinking, but then his expression turned serious. “You’re an amazing actress, Lena. I know I was a bastard about the whole Hollywood lifestyle before, but I get it’s who you are.”
I laced my fingers through his. “It is, and I love it, but I’m learning I love the storytelling, too. I learned a lot from Duncan and now I’d like to spend some time and see if I can get a production of my own off the ground.”
“Good to hear. What will you start with?”
“I’m not sure yet. I want to tell stories based on real life. Duncan’s productions always touched hearts, and I want to do that too, but I also want to reach minds.”
“In what way?”
“I want to challenge people’s thinking. I’m not sure how yet, but when I find the right story, I’ll know it. Then hopefully I can bring it to life.”
“I believe in you. You’ve got a knack.”
“I do?” I could get used to Marc’s praise.
“Yeah. You light up a room when you walk into it without even knowing it. People feel like they matter when they’re around you. As a producer, you’ll inspire a team to create something great. That’s probably why Ben fell for you so hard.”
“He wanted so much to matter to someone,” I said with a hint of sadness. “I didn’t see it until it was too late.”
“Hey.” Marc pushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “No guilt or blame, remember?”
I nodded. I knew there was sadness in my eyes, too. Speaking of it being too late brought up other difficult thoughts. “I saw my father. He’s got a month or two if he’s lucky.”
“I’m sorry.” Marc stroked my cheek and I closed my eyes.
“I am too, but I’m glad I saw him. I could feel my mother there with us, as stupid as that sounds.”
“It doesn’t.” There was a beat of silence. “I feel them.”
I opened my eyes. “Who? Your men?”
He nodded. “They haunt me.”
God, what could I say to that? Of course they haunted him. It was to be expected. I hesitated for only a second before I spoke. “You could tell their story.”
“What?”
“I could help you tell their story.”
“No.” I recognized the stubbornness etched into the lines of his forehead. “I can’t do that. But Kaden wants to. It’s another thing we argued about before I decided to leave the business.”
“I remember you told me he wanted to.”
“Yeah, he keeps saying it will honor them and give their families a legacy.”
“You don’t agree?”
“Maybe their families just want to be left to grieve and put it in the past.”
I put a hand on his shoulder. “Marc. The people you love are never in the past. They’re always with you. It just gets a little easier to deal with, that’s all.”
“You think he should do it?”
“I think he can do what he likes but I don’t think it’s a good reason to end a friendship. The business relationship is something you’ll have to decide on.”
“When I told him I wanted out, he said I should consult. Train men, that sort of thing.”
“What? For the Marines?”
Marc shook his head. “No, for private purposes. Guys who want to work as elite security personnel but may not have military experience.”
“I think you’d be good at that.”
A wry smile touched his lips. “I guess. Because I hate Hollywood?”
“No. Because I think you miss it. The camaraderie of working with other guys like you. Protecting princesses like me hardly compares. I don’t think it’s Hollywood you hate so much as the job description.”
He leaned in and kissed me on the forehead. “Oh, I don’t know. You’re a pretty good perk.”
I gave him a gentle shove. “I’m an exception. Would it be easy to get into that line of work? What would you have to do to make it happen?”
Marc shrugged. “Kaden wanted to make it a new division of the business. He suggested I head it up.”
“That’s a great idea! What?”
He laughed softly and I felt the deep rumble low in my belly.
“What happened to me making my own mind up about my business relationship?” he said.
I waved a hand at him impatiently. “I’m not telling you what to do. I just think it might make you happy.”
The more I thought about it, the more I realized it was a perfect idea.
He caught my hand, still smiling. “You make me happy. It’s a feeling I could get used to.”
He kissed me, slow and lazy, like we had all the time in the world. For a moment I let myself be lulled into the seductiveness of it, but I forced myself to pull back.
I took a deep breath at the question in his eyes. “Will you be able to do this? My life? You might feel differently when I request your presence on the red carpet.”
Current loved-up endorphins aside, I had to be realistic. My lifestyle had always been a point of contention. I’d hate for it to come between us so I’d rather approach it head-on right from the start.
“Princess. This is different. You’re not some client anymore.”
“I know.” I wanted to believe it made all the difference, but I wasn’t sure it did.
“Hey.” His thumb stroked my cheek. “Remember when you accused me of doing anything I could to get close to you?”
I wet my lips at the memory. Even back when I thought I hated him, he could make my blood run hot. “Yes.”
“Well, you got me. I want you. All of you. And if that means being by your side on the red carpet, I’ll do it. I’m all in.”
I bit my lip, feeling the sting of tears. “Thank you.”
He grinned at me. It was so honest, so real, it took my breath away.
“Don’t thank me just yet. Wait and see if I can behave myself first.”
*
“Lena! Over here! That guy, too! Hey, look over here.”
“That guy?” Marc muttered so only I could hear while we were blinded by the flash of the cameras.
“My guy,” I whispered in his ear.
“Damn straight.”
“We’ll have to work on your profile.”
“On second thought, ‘that guy’ is fine.”
I laughed. “I don’t know, you’re actually pretty good at this,” I said, when he gave the crowd a disinterested glance in keeping with his debonair ensemble.
It was the night of the Academy Awards and I felt like I had come full circle. This time last year I had been nominated for an Oscar and won. I had been full of nerves and uncertain about what the future held. This year I felt calm and assured and hopeful for what was to come.
“I’m also pretty good at this,” Marc said, then tipped me back flamboyantly and kissed me for the whole world to see.
When he set me on my feet again, my heart was racing. “You’re not bad.”
I ignored the cheers and clapping from those around us. I knew I wasn’t the only woman here tonight taking notice of him. The same as the other time I’d been forced to let him accompany me, Marc Romero in a suit did good things to a girl.
He slipped an arm around my waist and we continued walking up the red carpet. I saw Ally standing with Jacob, chatting easily to a reporter. The reporter gestured to Ally’s elegant, bright, full-length blue dress. She told me earlier she’d selected the fabric because it reminded her of Jake’s eye color. Ally must have felt my gaze on them because when the camera moved on, she gave me a wide grin. So much for the loud-mouthed Italian girl who didn’t like the spotlight. She was an old hand at this now.
A few feet behind us I heard Faith’s dry laughter. She’d come alone tonight. She was wearing a stunning gold dress that Ally had designed and would be in the tabloids’ ‘Best Dressed’ pages without a doubt.
I also heard Chloe giggle nearby and turned to catch her eye. She waved happily and I saw a few photographers snap her photo. She looked like an auburn-haired baby doll in the cute little green dress she was wearing.
“She’s turning twenty-one soon, right?” Marc asked as though he didn’t quite believe it.
“She is. And you’re invited.”
“To a twenty-first?”
“Yes, darling.”
“Can’t wait.”
“Gypsy Hour will be there.”
“They’re not half bad,” he admitted.
“See? This isn’t too painful.”
“I’m not in pain, Princess. Far from it.”
And he was right. He stood beside me, wearing his confidence easily. And pride. I could feel his pride for me too—and if I wasn’t careful, it was going to make me tear up.
I was home, I realized, and I wasn’t talking about the red carpet.
Since my mother had died, I’d felt adrift, as if some part of me was lost. I’d tried finding what I was looking for in a physical sense. I’d told myself my Hollywood Hills estate wasn’t the home I wanted. So I’d bought the Beverly Hills house I thought would fulfil that need, but it had been taken from me by circumstances out of my control.
But none of that mattered. The place was irrelevant.
These people were my home. My good friends, true friends. Ally, Faith and Chloe.
And now Marc.
With him I could see myself building something lasting. Whether we were here or on the other side of the world, it didn’t matter.
When an eager-looking reporter came up to us, I squeezed Marc’s hand. He lifted a shoulder in an imperceptible shrug as if to say ‘whatever’.
“Lena Lyons! Don’t you look amazing,” the reporter gushed, and I proceeded to sing Ally’s praises for the sleek, pale pink dress that clung to my body like a second skin.
While I talked, the reporter’s eyes kept darting between Marc and me with unconcealed interest.
“OK, so the suspense is killing me,” the reporter said. “Who is this mystery man with you tonight, Lena? We’ve seen him on the red carpet with you once before but he kept a very low profile. Come on, we’re all dying to know.”
I tipped my head and took in Marc’s profile. His strong Roman nose, the confident line of his jaw and the ever-watchful look in his eyes that I knew never missed a thing. For a brief second the tattoo, which I had committed to memory, flashed into my mind. Always faithful.
I turned back to the camera and gave the world my biggest smile, and it wasn’t an act. “This is my partner, Marc Romero.”