When he turns back to me, his face is still hard. “Sorry, I have to go. We’ll talk more later, okay?”
“Okay.” My heart is hammering in my chest. This isn’t how I saw my first declaration of love ending. I thought for sure Liam would say it back and then we’d have mind-blowing sex, or at least a toe-curling kiss. This is . . . not that.
Liam bends down and gently brushes his lips across my cheek. I close my eyes and shiver.
“I’ll call you later,” he whispers.
I nod, and then he leaves me and heads back over to the fountain. When he gets there, the photographer calls him over, and a beautiful redhead appears on the other side of him. Ah. Angel Bell. Holy wow, she looks like a goddess.
Something unpleasant fires in my stomach. It intensifies when she and Liam take up their positions, and she grabs his arm possessively.
The photographer shoots and calls out instructions, and Liam and Angel move through various intimate poses. When the photographer walks over and talks to them, the poses get a whole lot sexier. Liam’s shirt is unbuttoned. Angel’s hands are on his chest and abs. He gazes at her like he wants to eat her.
“You know him?”
I turn to see a man with greasy hair and a goatee standing next to me. He’s holding one of the biggest cameras I’ve ever seen.
Geez, dude. Overcompensating, much?
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Liam Quinn. I saw him talking to you. You friends? Family?”
I turn back to watch Liam grab Angel and pull her against him. “Friends.” For the moment. Very soon, I’m hoping we’ll be a whole lot more.
The man brings up his giant camera and squeezes off a few shots. “Anything you can tell me about him and his costar? When did they start dating? Did they know each other before they got the movie?”
I look at him sharply. “You a reporter?”
He shrugs. “Sort of.”
“Then you’re misinformed. They’re not dating.”
He laughs. It’s not a pleasant sound. “Haven’t seen your friend for a while, have you? They’re dating, all right. Well, ‘fucking’ would be a better word for it. Pardon the language.”
My stomach clenches. “Why the hell would you think that? They’re working together. That’s it.”
He smiles, showing nicotine-stained teeth, then glances around, as if to check that no one’s looking. “I shouldn’t be showing you this, but what the hell? Come tomorrow morning everyone’s going to know anyway. I’ve sold these babies to four national mags and three Web sites. There’s nothing like hot actors screwing each other’s brains out to boost audience pull.” He fiddles with the controls of his camera. “Friend of mine tipped me off that Quinn was going to be the next big thing in Hollywood, so I started following him a few weeks ago. Seems like he and his costar have been busy getting to know each other.”
He turns the camera around so I can see the screen, then he scrolls through photos. My face flushes with heat. I feel sick.
There are dozens of pictures of Liam and Angel together. Gazing at each other lovingly. Kissing across a table at lunch. Making out in the doorway of his apartment after obviously spending the night together.
My head pounds as nausea rolls through me. I look away. The man chuckles and hands me his card. “So, yeah. The story’s about to break about these two, big-time. If you ever have dirt on him you want to sell, I’ll make it worth your while. He’d never have to know it came from you.”
As he presses the card into my hand, humiliation sinks into my bones.
He said he loved me. That he missed me. That some actors might fall for their leading ladies, but he never would. And I believed him.
I bought every single line he fed me and begged for more. I really am a special breed of idiot.
Part of me is blindsided, but another part is completely unsurprised it’s happened again. Of course it has.
I look back at Liam and Angel, still groping each other for the camera. Liam’s eyes flicker to me, and I see it—the exact moment he realizes I know. His face drops and clouds with guilt, and then a look of indescribable sadness settles on his features. The photographer barks something at him and Liam glances at him briefly before turning back to me.
As I stare at him, my eyes prickle with hot tears, but I refuse to let them fall. I’m filled with so much rage, I’m shaking. More than anything, I’m angry with myself. I knew the risks of falling for him, and I let it happen anyway.
I deserve this. It’s as much my fault as it is his.
When I can’t bear to look at him anymore, I turn and walk away. I hear him yell my name, but I don’t stop. What would be the point?
Everything hurts as I walk, and I curse myself for wanting to run back and beg him to change his mind.
What the hell is wrong with me? Am I really that unlovable?
Tears well up again, and I tense every muscle to stop the emotion from overwhelming me.