“What’s the point of that? The divorce has been filed. The papers were leaked. This whole thing will look stupid, and I still haven’t heard the part where this benefits me.” I looked at Gabe, who was watching me with a look I wanted to slap off his face. It was almost an admirable look, as if he was impressed with me.
“We talk to all of the production companies and tell them that I acted out of spite when I said I wouldn’t work with them if they hired you as their costume designer,” Gabe said. I clenched my jaw and stabbed him in my thoughts. Repeatedly. I put my hands under the table and sat on them when I felt them begin to shake.
“You guys think you’re so fucking cute playing with my career. You think that just because you’re Gabriel Lane, Hollywood’s sweetheart, that I can’t end you?” I asked. “You forget whose hometown this is, Gabriel Rogers. Or is your birth name something you’ve forgotten too? Maybe you should lay off the fucking drugs once in a while.” My chair screeched against the marble floor as I stood up.
“I’ll give you the condo in New York,” Gabe said as I turned to walk back to my room. My heart lurched at the mention of my beloved condo. I stopped walking and turned around.
“Just like that?”
“I’ve fucked up, Nic. I know I have, but with all of my . . . partying and other things, my image is looking really bad right now and I have two movies coming out in the span of four months. I need to fix it,” he said, blue eyes pleading as he stood and put his hands as if he was about to say a prayer. “Please. You’re the only one who can help me. I swear I’ll stop making things difficult for you.”
I let that sink in for a moment as I looked into his apologetic blue eyes, eyes that could very well be lying to me. Eyes that had lied to me so many times in the past. He ran his hands down his newly shaven face and looked at me again. He was so damn handsome. Handsome, charming, great in bed, and he’d once been mine. Sadly, in this moment as I looked at him, trying to figure out whether or not he was just putting on an act, I couldn’t even remember the good moments.
“I want this on paper,” I said finally. “On paper and I want both of your signatures on it.”
“I’ll have Phil draw up a contract right now,” Darryl said.
“Fuck Phil. I’ll have my dad do it.”
“Thank you, Nic. So much. I know I have no right—”
I put my hand up. “Shut up. If I’m doing this, you need to just shut up. I’ll play along because for whatever stupid fucked-up reason I still care about you, but I can’t promise anything more, and if during our mediation in a couple of weeks you say one negative thing, I’ll do something crazy. Don’t tempt me.”
My dad was outraged. I knew he would be.
“What does Victor say about this?” he asked.
“I’m not telling him about this. I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking of telling him. I just need a simple paper stating my demands.”
“These are things you need to discuss with your lawyer, Nicole. Why do you think I appointed you one?”
I could tell he was at his wit’s end, and even though I was on the phone with him and I wasn’t a six-year-old climbing kitchen cabinets, I felt the crack of the belt.
“Papi,” I whispered. “Por favor.”
He sighed loudly on the other end of the line, and I closed my eyes, letting out a breath.
“Fine, but you’ll have to come to the Newport house to get it.”
My mouth popped open. “Why? Just email it to me.”
“No. We haven’t seen you, you’ve been here a handful of times in the past year, and I’m having a barbeque. Tomorrow. Come early. Bring clothes,” he said, his voice leaving no room for discussion. Leave it up to my dad to make a day at the beach house sound like punishment.
“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
WHEN WILL CALLED me last night and invited me to his beach house, I’d been tempted to come up with an excuse as to why I wouldn’t make it, but then I remembered the isolated private beach and the silence, and I agreed. I’d stayed in the seven-bedroom house in the past and had a good time, so why not now? I hadn’t expected his first words over brunch to be, “We need to talk about Nicole.” And I hadn’t expected the way my heart launched into my throat at the sound of those words. Immediately, I thought of Friday night when I’d seen her at the nightclub. The kiss we shared, the way I asked to speak to her in private and spent the entire time trying not to lock the door, push her against the door and hike up her dress. I made an effort to keep my features as blank as I could.
“What about Nicole?” I asked, smiling as Meire, Will’s wife, walked in with a tray and set cups of coffee on the table for us.
“Where’s Maya?” Will asked her.
“I sent her to buy some groceries. We didn’t have anything in the fridge, but I think I’ll tell her to go home early if it’s only going to be us,” she replied as she walked off with the tray again.
“You’re not going to join us?” Will called out.
“I want to make sure Maya prepared the room for Victor,” she called out from the kitchen.
Will shook his head as he took a sip of coffee, and as much as I didn’t mind delaying the Nicole conversation about whatever it was he wanted to discuss, I was on edge.