This Is True Love (Exclusive! #1) (10 page)

BOOK: This Is True Love (Exclusive! #1)
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“Alex, hi.” Her eyes shone with excitement, her smile was bright. “Ready to go?”

Shock rendered him mute. No, he didn’t expect her eyes to be red and puffy from crying or for them to be shooting daggers into him. But she was acting a lot more Fliss-like than she had earlier in the day. Like last night hadn’t happened. “Uh, yeah,” he managed to get out.

“Let’s go then.” She looked at him expectedly.

He snapped to attention. “Right.”

They made their way to the front door. The others had already left for the day, wishing them good luck on their way out. In his SUV, he glanced over before starting the engine. She stared out the passenger-side window. His eyes greedily traced her profile. Sheer perfection from the curve of her smooth forehead to the soft line of her nose to the full lips he’d dreamed about last night.

He cleared his throat. “Are you ready to win over Mansfield?”

“Absolutely.” She hit him with another bright grin.

Prepared for it this time, he stared deep into her eyes and recognized the unease she was trying her damnedest to hide. He sighed. He had no clue how to handle the situation, but he had to try. Time to man up. “Are we going to talk about last night?”

Fliss broke eye contact and stared out the window again. Her shoulders slumped, like it was too much effort for her to maintain her cheery façade. “What’s there to talk about? I threw myself at you, you caught me and threw me back in the water when you figured out I wasn’t the fish you wanted after all. Seems pretty cut and dried to me.”

He winced at her brittle tone. Business he could handle, having a plan to accomplish his goals, but this—dealing with messy emotions—had never been his strong suit. He’d shut them off at a young age. He’d had no choice. “I put you in a bad position. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” Fliss faced him again, but now all he spied in her expression was distant politeness. “Actually, you did me a favor,” she said, the natural cheerfulness he’d started to appreciate noticeably absent. “I’d decided not to rush into anything new after the divorce because I wanted to concentrate on my career. I lost my head there for a minute. As you’re always saying, I’m too impulsive for my own good. But no more. And we don’t make any sense, so thank you.”

“Oh.” Though they shouldn’t, her words stung. More than he’d ever thought they could. It was his turn to break eye contact. He looked out the windshield. “Good to know we’re on the same page.”

He started the car and exited the parking lot, gripping the steering wheel so hard the stitches bit into his palms.
Get your head in the game
. Business needed to come first today. If everything went according to plan, the next two hours would change the course of Crescendo in the best possible way.

Twenty minutes later, Alex pulled up in front of The Ivy and sighed in relief that the tension-fraught ride was over. From the outside, the restaurant didn’t look like much. A white cottage with a white picket fence, it resembled someone’s fantasy of the perfect country home, but some of Hollywood’s biggest deals had been brokered here. Its clientele was a who’s who of Hollywood’s elite. Actors, agents, directors, anyone who wanted to be seen made it a point to dine at The Ivy.

He got out of the Range Rover and handed the keys to the valet. Then he walked around and grasped Fliss’s elbow as she stepped out onto the sidewalk. The valet drove off, putting her in direct view of the street.

The sound of camera shutters clicking went into overdrive. Shouted questions and demands made their way across the street to them.
Hey, Felicity, look over here! What are you doing at The Ivy? Why did you come out of hiding?

Alex sneaked a peek behind him. Three or four photographers yelled and clicked away, obviously thrilled to catch an unexpected glimpse of the newly single movie star. He exchanged a glance with Fliss.

“I’m fine,” she said. She shrugged in resignation but otherwise seemed unruffled. He should’ve known she would be. She’d proven over and over that she was as tough as they came. He told the stupid voice in his head asking why he was so worried about her to shut up. She’d been through a lot. He’d be a first-class ass, especially after her display in his office yesterday, if he wasn’t concerned. That’s all it was.

They made their way to the reservation stand. As the host escorted them to a corner table on the patio, conversations didn’t halt. The restaurant’s patrons were much too sophisticated for such obvious behavior, but they didn’t have a problem staring. Fliss’s back tensed against his guiding hand, but her stride didn’t falter. Neither did her composed facial expression. Not even when they spotted Mansfield waiting for them.

He could only hope he gave off the same unruffled vibe. Although he was as prepared as he could be, Alex’s nerves were jangling. This project was special to him, no doubt about it, and he wanted everything to go smoothly.

Fliss sent him a reassuring smile. He chose not to examine too closely why her support soothed his nerves. Instead, he squared his shoulders and strode forward to shake Mansfield’s hand. The man, whose eightieth birthday had come and gone some time ago, surprised Alex with his strong grip. Alex took a closer look. Mansfield’s posture was straight, his chest burly, his brown eyes clear. His full head of hair was pure white, his smooth walnut-colored skin only marred with a few lines. A full mustache matched his hair color.

“Mr. Mansfield, thank you for inviting us today,” Alex said.

“I didn’t do it for you, son. I know you’ve been trying to get at me for a long time.” Then he practically shoved Alex out of the way and opened his arms wide. “Fliss, my dear. It’s been too long.”

Fliss? Only her family and friends called her that. Most people in the industry stuck to calling her Felicity. A spurt of what felt uncomfortably like jealousy zinged through Alex. Irrational and stupid. He wasn’t involved with Fliss, nor would he be. Still, he couldn’t stop his lips from pressing into a tight line as she stepped into Mansfield’s embrace without hesitation.

“It hasn’t been that long, has it?” She graced Mansfield with a sweet smile.

“Since the Golden Globes when we went for
The Love of Money
,” Mansfield said.

Fliss wrinkled her nose. “Oh, yeah. How could I forget? We didn’t win.”

She’d been nominated for lead actress in the comedy/musical category, and the movie’s theme song, which Mansfield had written and produced, had been nominated for best original song, Alex recalled.

Mansfield snorted. “Oh, what do those Foreign Press people know? That movie made over one hundred fifty million dollars at the box office.”

They both chuckled. Fliss held out a brightly wrapped package. “Before I forget, we brought you a gift.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s a small token of our appreciation for you agreeing to meet with us.”

“Then I’ll happily accept.” Mansfield took the small box and unwrapped it. Hearty laughter burst from him when he spied the contents. “Peanut M&Ms. I love it.”

“Glad to hear it,” Alex said.

Fliss turned to him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to monopolize the conversation.”

“It’s okay,” he answered, proud he sounded calm and reasonable. He was always,
always
reasonable. “You’re catching up with an old friend.”

“But you came here for a reason, son, so let’s get to it,” Mansfield said in his commanding Chicago accent. He waved Fliss into one of the chairs at the round table and then settled into another. Alex sat in the only remaining chair. The table’s umbrella offered some welcome relief from the sun and, hopefully, the photographers camped out across the street.

“You’re right, sir. I’ve been trying to get to you, as you said,” Alex said, ending on a slight chuckle. “Crescendo Productions would welcome the opportunity to tell your wife’s story.” He went into his spiel that focused on Crescendo’s successes and his vision for the movie. He mentioned the big budget and his plans to make Farrah Blake a bigger legend than she already was, stopping only briefly to allow the waiter to drop off menus and deliver water.

Alex was confident in his proposal. He’d been rehearsing it for months.

Mansfield didn’t interrupt, his face giving nothing away. When Alex finished, Mansfield leaned back in his chair, his eyes, the intelligence in them clear, assessing Alex.

Don’t look away. Relax.

“That’s all you’ve got? Let’s order.” Mansfield’s tone was so dismissive Alex was surprised he didn’t outright sniff his disdain.

He waited for Mansfield to offer more feedback, but he didn’t. Shit. He hadn’t expected gushing, although he would’ve been thrilled to receive it. He
had
expected more than a one-sentence response. But, as he’d learned in the preceding months, the old man was tough and didn’t believe in making things easy. Panicking would get him nowhere. Showing his unease would be fatal to Crescendo’s chances. Still, he reached for his glass of water, needing to coat a throat that had gone bone dry. Why hadn’t Mansfield responded to his facts and figures? They were solid. More than.

While Mansfield motioned for the waiter, Alex’s eyes flicked to Fliss. Although her lips curled upward, worry shone in her eyes. “Let me try,” she mouthed.

Alex froze, his instincts screaming no. He wanted to be the one to convince Mansfield. Prove that he could secure the deal through his own merits. It was bad enough that this meeting wouldn’t have happened without her.

Man up, Alex.

He carefully set his glass down and took a calming breath. He’d obviously fallen flat on his face. He wasn’t sure letting Fliss take the lead would work, but what did he have to lose at this point? Securing the deal was the most important outcome of this meeting, not boosting his ego. Besides, she did have a personal relationship with Mansfield. Maybe she could get through to him. He nodded once.

He watched her put on her most charming smile. “Phillip, why don’t you tell us what you’re hoping to get out of this project? Why have you been so hesitant to pick a production company to work with?”

“I want the best for my wife,” he answered with no hesitation. “She deserves that. I loved Farrah. She was a complicated woman, but never have I felt more loved than when I was with her. I hope she felt the same way about me.”

Fliss’s smile broadened. “What a lovely thing to say. She was a lucky woman.”

“Trust me, I was the lucky one.” His lips curved into a slight smile. “Even if I never understood her obsession with fashion. So many clothes. She never had any hope of wearing them all.”

She laughed. “Well, you’re a man. Trust me, you can never have enough clothes. I was in awe of her style.”

“You’re familiar with her style? Her heyday was well before your time.”

“Of course I am. Who isn’t? Fashion has no time constraints, especially when the person has a classic, elegant style with just a hint of flash to make it her own, like Farrah did. Her influence extended well beyond music.”

Mansfield’s grin now stretched from ear to ear. “It did, didn’t it?”

“Yes,” she answered, nodding. “She was a style icon for the ages. But really there was so much more to her than a glam queen or even a music superstar.”

When her eyes cut to him, Alex leaned forward, ready to bring the win home. “Fliss is absolutely right. We plan to explore all facets of her personality and influence.”

Mansfield’s eyebrows rose. “Her personality and influence? Where did you get your info from?”

“I read every article and watched every interview and performance I could get my hands on. But that’s where you come in. You knew her best—what her favorite songs were, what made her tick, what she said and did to get through the tough times. We need your help to tell her story the right way.”

“Phillip, you should’ve seen him when he was telling me about the project for the first time,” Fliss said, her voice rising in excitement, her hands whirling. “He was so passionate I knew I had to get involved. You couldn’t find anyone more dedicated to or excited about telling Farrah’s story. When he showed me the script, I was blown away. He wrote it. The details, the subtlety, the powerful message. It’s fabulous. Alex will do an amazing job with the film.”

Alex stared at her. He’d had no idea that she’d loved the script or believed in his abilities that much. Had anyone ever believed in him like that? It felt nice. Amazing, if he wanted to be perfectly honest. He wasn’t sure he believed in his skills as much as she seemed to. He was always too busy thinking his best was never good enough and striving to improve.

Mansfield nodded. “I see. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

His tone was neutral, but neutrality sounded a lot better than the barely disguised disgust Alex had received earlier.

Still, the victory, as tenuous as it was, didn’t fill him with as much happiness as he would have liked. He refused to lie to himself. Yes, Fliss’s praise made him feel good, and Mansfield seemed receptive to her overtures, but he couldn’t shake the notion that he’d failed. That he still wasn’t good enough to succeed on his own. She’d known Mansfield would respond to a more personal, folksy approach, which Alex had dismissed because he was more comfortable with facts and order, not emotion. But she’d been right.

Would he ever get it right?

BOOK: This Is True Love (Exclusive! #1)
6.02Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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