I don’t know where to start, other than at the beginning. But still, I’m reluctant to do so when the morning has been so perfect so far. Ian and I don’t exactly have a great track record of sticking around after sex and I want today to be the day that changes that, that helps move us from the intensely physical to the intensely personal, as well.
But Ian, as always, knows when something’s up. This time he doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t push me to get started like he’s always done before. Instead, he strokes his hands over my shoulders and down my arms, presses soft kisses to the back of my neck, even holds me tight against him like he’s giving me permission to borrow as much of his strength as I need to get this out.
God, is it any wonder that I’m falling for him? The man is perfect. He makes me feel inadequate next to him.
It’s that feeling, more than anything else, that finally gets me talking. Because it’s a trust thing. I told Ian last night that I trusted no one and I know it hurt him to hear me say that, especially when he ended up telling me his truth, hard though it was for him. When I lay in bed this morning, holding him as we both drifted off, I knew I could do no less. Partly because he needs to know what he’s getting into and partly because if this thing between us is going to work, I need to give him my trust. No matter how hard it is for me.
It’s that thought, more than any other, that finally gets me talking.
“I told you earlier that I don’t trust anyone.” He shifts, like he’s about to say something, but I keep talking, refusing to yield the floor. If I stop now, there’s no way I’m going to get started again. “I don’t mean to be like that. It’s just Hollywood is a really shitty place to grow up. Then again, maybe everywhere is. This is all I have to measure against.”
A cool breeze comes off the ocean and I wiggle closer to him for warmth, pulling his arms more firmly against him. “I know I sound ridiculous. I mean, I had a lot of advantages growing up Salvatore and Melanie Romero’s daughter. I got to travel, I had the best tutors, I got to watch the magic of movies coming to life right in front of me. And I had pretty much every material thing I could possibly want. What’s not to love about that?
“Except, upsides like that always come with downsides, right? And mine was mostly that I had the two most self-absorbed parents on the planet. Oh, I knew that they loved me—I mean, I know that ’til this day. But I always came second or third or even tenth to what they wanted. What they needed. What they had to do to keep themselves in the public eye.
“For the most part, it wasn’t bad. I got to see the world at an early age, I didn’t have to go to school like a normal kid. They even made sure I had proper supervision—a nanny and or a bodyguard with me at pretty much all times. My parents weren’t around much, but someone always was.”
Ian has gone from relaxed to stiff behind me, and I pat his leg absently, soothing him and myself as I gear up to tell him the rest of the story. The part that I’ve never talked about to anyone before.
“Of course, they’d swoop in at weird times—whenever they remembered it had been a while since they’d seen me or, more often because they needed me to be in publicity photos that would make them look bad if their daughter wasn’t with them. Hard to be parents of the year if your kid is always left to fend for herself.
“And I mean, it was fine. For a long time it worked out well for all of us. I didn’t have a lot of friends because of the not-going-to-school thing, but other than that, it was okay. And then, when I was eight, my longtime bodyguard left because he was getting married and she wanted a husband who was actually around. So I lost Tad, who had pretty much been a fixture in my life from the beginning—more so than my nannies because they were always having falling-outs with my mother, who, looking back, was always paranoid about them wanting to sleep with her husband.
“But Tad, Tad had always been my constant. From as far back as I can remember, he was there, watching over me. When he left my dad hired a new bodyguard, a man by the name of William Vargas. And that’s when everything kind of went to hell.”
Chapter 27
I need to tell her.
Right now, I need to tell Veronica that I know who William Vargas is and that I had originally sought out the Vanity Fair interview specifically because I wanted to talk with her about him. I need to come clean before she spills all this and things between us are never the same.
Fuck. Just fuck.
I really thought I’d have more time. Really thought I could figure out a way to deal with this without it blowing up in both of our faces and ruining everything.