CHAPTER 40
Emmett
I FINISH RECORDING A candlelit dinner with Evelyn while Julia stands on the sidelines stone-faced.
I like to think I’m doing a good job of not constantly reorienting back to her, but the truth is I can’t help myself. She’s on my mind twenty-four hours a day.
When I’m sleeping, I dream about her. When I wake up, I reach for her. When I go to sleep, I drift off imagining all the things I want to do with her.
All I know is I want her as close to me as possible. I’ve started looking forward to the end of the show more than ever.
My plan is to collect that final check, hand it over to my family, and go find her so I can drop to my knees and beg her to forgive me for putting her through this ordeal.
In the meantime, I just keep reminding myself that she’s still here. She hasn’t left. She’s sticking around. And that’s all I can ask for.
Hell, it’s more than I have any right to ask.
“Emmett! My office,” Dick Wad snipes before I can get off the set.
My plan is to make a beeline straight to Julia’s apartment because as sweet as it is for Catherine to help us, it’s just not worth the risk when the end is in sight.
So with a regretful sigh, I head toward the utility trailer that Richard’s made into his office, hoping I can get this done and out of the way.
He’s already seated behind his desk when I step in, grinning at me in a way that makes my hackles rise.
“Over here, Emmett.” He gestures for me to come around the desk, and when I do, he opens a folder on his computer screen. “I just wanted to show you a few things.”
It takes me a moment to register what I’m seeing. Richard casually scrolls through pictures of Julia.
At my house, bloodied knees, coming inside, then leaving later.
In her car with me outside the diner.
At The Sugar Saloon with me.
Us at the Cactus Club, where she went on her date.
But most troubling of all is the photo of us inside my house.
The angle is from the front door and captures the main entryway. It’s the morning after Catherine helped sneak her in. The photo itself is innocuous enough; she’s only slipping on her shoes at the front closet. But there’s no window for a camera to catch it. Which means there is one inside my cottage. Something I know I didn’t give them permission for.
“So you see,” Richard says, cutting into the shocked silence that hangs between us. “I could easily ruin her career. She was hired to manage locations, not your cock. Yet here she is, and here you are—the star of my show, finding love with a crew member instead of where you’re paid to.” He pauses for effect, dragging the cursor over Julia’s face, underlining the proof. “I’d hate to use this. I’d hate to enforce the part of the contract where you agreed not to see anyone publicly.”
My molars grind and my cheeks sizzle. The threat is obvious, and it does nothing but make me feel trapped. Helpless.
“But now I’ve got photos of you out at a bar. So the moral of the story here, Emmett, is that you’re going to behave yourself. You have one week of the show left, and I want some fucking drama. I’ve had to get artful to keep this from being a total snoozefest. Because you’ve let me down.”
I hate him.
“But this week you will not let me down. You’re going to bring all the angst and all the PG-13 rated sexual activity that you can. Because I’m producing a fucking dating show here. I’m after ratings, not a medal for morality.”
“Are you blackmailing me?”
He brushes past my question. “You’ve got your day off tomorrow to think about it. Make the smart choice, Emmett. It’s only one week. In one week, you get paid, and young Julia gets the career she’s always wanted. She’ll move on, work her way up in Hollywood, like her cover letter expressed that she’s always dreamed of. You’ll be but a blip on the radar for her.”
I try not to wince, but Richard reads me too well. He homes in on every worry in my brain like they’re written out on my forehead.
“You can go back to whatever country-bumpkin shit you do while keeping your fucking mouth shut to fulfill your contractual obligations. No public dating for a year, remember?”
He waves a hand through the air with a dismissive flick, and I swallow.
“Who am I kidding? You’re desperate for this cash. Of course you remember.
So you’ll do your press with the winner next year when this all airs. Play nice for the cameras. And then you and I never have to fucking talk to each other again.
Have I made myself clear?”
I nod, wooden, my eyes still fixed on the screen.
“Good. Now get out of my office.”
I blink a few times before I turn to depart, thoroughly shaken. I don’t know what to think.
All I know is I want to be at Julia’s house, wrapped in her arms, tangled in her bedsheets. Because if I do what Richard wants to save her career and honor my contract, tonight may be the last night I spend with Julia Silva.
