Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
She snorted. “Hardly my misspent youth, Oliver. And at this point, I’m not sure I’ll ever have kids, never mind grandkids.”
“You will,” I assured her. “You’re too special not to.”
“But not with you.”
“No. I’m not built that way. I proved that to both of us. But you are. And one day, some fucking lucky asshole will have it all with you.”
“I see.”
The air felt too serious all of a sudden. “You’re tempted. I can tell,” I said with a droll wink. “I’ll even let you take a picture or two for proof.”
“You’re not worried I’d sell them to the paps?”
I laughed, shaking my head. “No. I trust you implicitly, which is why I’m asking you. You would never hurt me that way.” I took her hand. “And I won’t hurt you again. That’s why I’m being honest. But if you say no, I’ll kiss you goodnight and think about what just happened as one of the best nights of my life when I’m old and gray. But if you say yes, I’ll make sure the next few weeks fulfill any fantasy you’ve ever had. And I’ll stick so close, you’ll be thrilled when I leave.”
She worried her lip then leaned forward. “Why don’t you kiss me anyway, Oliver Hart, and see what happens?”
I cupped the back of her neck. “That’s my girl.”
Kassie
I woke in the morning, the skies overcast and gray. Oliver was gone, having left while it was still dark, pressing a kiss to my brow. “I’ll see you later, lovely,” he murmured. “Go back to sleep.”
I had rolled over and pulled his pillow to me, his scent already soaked into the fabric, and done just that. After we’d made love, had sex, whatever he wanted to call it, we’d lain in my bed, cuddled close and talking about everything and nothing. He told me more about Annie, his agent, and her gruff and rough style.
“She is known for her no-nonsense ways,” he mused. “But if she has your back, she’ll fight hard.” He chuckled. “And dirty, if she has to. Her reputation is legendary.”
“You like her a lot.”
“She believed in me and helped me. She has always been honest with me. Brutally, at times,” he admitted. “But never mean. She cares for few people, but those she does care about, she protects.”
“And you’re one of them?”
“I like to think so. She has other successful clients, but I think we have a closer relationship than some. Not that she’d ever admit it to my face,” he added, tucking an arm under his head and using his other arm to keep me close.
“Not married?”
“Nope. Her affairs are supposedly numerous and short, at least when she was younger. I’ve seen pictures. She was a stunner with a don’t-fuck-with-me attitude. I guess she used that to her advantage.”
“Is your life as glamorous as it seems to be in magazines and interviews? I saw pictures of your house.”
He laughed. “That house was a staged interview. I would never allow a reporter into my own home. That’s private. My place is nothing like the pictures. It’s nice—small by Hollywood standards. Not glamorous at all.” He was quiet for a moment. “And my life isn’t at all what you see. That is simply an image, Kassie. Cultivated by my team. The world doesn’t want to know I live a fairly normal life. I don’t lounge around in designer clothing and eat fancy meals while servants cater to my every whim.” He sounded amused. “My housekeeper puts me in my place if I step out of line. She has no problem telling me to pick up my dirty socks or not to leave coffee cups around the house.”
“Oh, you still do that?” He always forgot to take his coffee cups to the sink.
He squeezed me closer. “Yep. A trail of cups follows me everywhere. Or some days, water bottles.”
“I see.”
“I hate getting dressed up. I rarely go out, and if I do, I’m often mobbed, so I always have bodyguards. I hate crowds, never sure of who is watching me. I’ve been followed, harassed, pushed around, and screamed at to get a reaction.” He sighed. “It took me a long time to learn not to give them one. Some of the paps are relentless. A few, in particular.”
“I’m sorry,” I offered.
“My life is lonely, if I’m being honest. There are few I trust, and I only have a small circle of friends. We’re all in the industry, so we only see each other on occasion since we tend to be working. I spend most of my time reading scripts, researching for roles, working out.”
“Solitary endeavors,” I said with a frown.
“Yes. And it’s fine. It’s the trade-off to being able to do what I loved.”
“Loved? As in past tense?”
He sighed. “Lately, the spark is gone. I’m tired of the hamster wheel I’m on all the time. Working, the interviews, press junkets, smiling and pretending I’m happy. The emptiness of it all gets to me more than it used to.”