Finding Love's Wings (21 page)

"Tomorrow morning, around eight, I have a video conference with Trinity. That is where I earn my paycheck." I smile and continue, "I expect that tomorrow will be filled with a lot of talk about you."

He scowls. "Why would you be doing that?"

Before I can answer, a gentleman dressed in livery brings out our dinner salads and a bottle of white wine.
 

"Well, we need to figure out our plan of attack for Tuesday. Bold is going to be completely bombarded with phone calls regarding the story. We need a plan in place when it comes to who all will be involved in the situation."

Trinity had emailed me earlier today regarding the story. Attached was the unreleased copy. It was a very well-written article, and Tristan was painted rather favorably. Even so, the stories that are going to follow will be harsh as far as Tristan is concerned.

As we begin to eat our salads, Tristan looks as though he is mulling something over.
 

"Penny for your thoughts?" I tease.

He flashes me a brief, tense smile. "I'm just not looking forward to all the negative attention on Tuesday."

"But you won't have to face the fans or the press until you go back to the States. The only people who know you're here are Trinity, Mick, Beau, and me."

"That's not true. I was recognized downstairs today. I signed autographs and let them take some pictures in an attempt to stop them from being vindictive. I asked the girls to wait a couple of days before telling their friends." He takes on the task of pouring our wine. "I'm not sure if it'll work, but I did my best."

Crap. Well I guess it's inevitable that he'll be recognized, even all the way out here. "Hm. In that case, I suggest that once this story comes out, you drop from sight. Change the name on the hotel room to something a little less common."

"Tyson is on it."

"Good." I have this overwhelming desire to protect him as best as I can. "I want you to come out of this in one piece. Stories like this can completely destroy a person emotionally."

He frowns. "I know, but frankly, at this point, once the promotional events are done for the movies I have already completed, I'm not entirely sure that I care to get back in front of the camera."

I sigh. "Is that because you no longer want to act, or is it because you're afraid this will destroy your career?"

He does not respond right away. I watch an array of emotions cross his face and his body. Anytime he is tense or anxious, his entire body tightens up. When he finally does respond, I'm amazed by what comes out of his mouth.

"Cami, I love acting. There is nothing more that I want to do in this world than continue to pursue the career as far as it will take me." He pauses, taking a very large swig of his wine. When he drains the glass, he refills it and drinks about half of the new glass before continuing.
 

"I am scared to death that Layla has destroyed my credibility with all this negative publicity. I know it's an irrational fear. I didn't do anything wrong in this whole mess. But my name is going to be dragged through the thickest of mud regardless of what I do." He takes another drink of his wine. This one is slower and smaller. "The contracted production schedule for the films prevented me from taking on very many new roles. I was able to take two additional roles and completed the production of those films outside of Burning, but the last few months have been pretty dry on scripts, and I'm concerned that my career is coming to an end and not because of Layla." He takes a deep breath.
 

I'm puzzled because I'm not exactly sure what he's referring to. "What do you mean, ‘not because of Layla’?" I ask.
 

"I haven't received very many new scripts. The ones that I have received were either poorly written or they were B movies with unreasonable production schedules." He takes a bite of his salad. "I've been wondering if it has to do with my acting ability or if it's just the movies that I've done. A lot of my popularity stems from the character I play, not necessarily my acting abilities."

Our waiter returns to clear our salad plates and bring us our main course: blackened duck, roasted potatoes, and mixed vegetables. I pick up my fork and knife and slowly slice into the duck. It's tender and juicy.
 

Before I take my first bite, I say to him, "Vincent has four scripts sitting on his desk – at this moment – waiting to be released to you. He's just waiting until we have a final production schedule and tentative contract in hand. From my understanding, he holds the majority of your scripts until he has more information. He tries very hard not to bombard you with scripts that turn into nothing or with demands for production that you can’t meet."

His expression changes from grim to slightly excited.
 

I take my first bite, and it's delicious. Mouthwatering. I swallow and take a sip of the wine, which tastes crisp after the rich meat.
 

"You'll be able to pick and choose or possibly do them all," I continue. "According to Vinnie, the tentative production schedules would not overlap, and you could meet the timelines on all of them."
 

Watching his reaction intently, I see how his body shifts from bent over and tense to a looser, straighter position. A smile spreads across his face, and his eyes warm.
 

We eat in silence for a few minutes as I mull over the fact that I haven't told him everything I know, and it's nagging at me. Finally I take a deep breath and speak up, bracing myself for his reaction. "I've seen the article."

"Wha...? When? How?" He's pretty cute when he's flustered, actually.
 

"Trinity sent me the article today. She received it yesterday but waited to forward it to me until the pictures were validated. There's also a video, but that won't be released to the public. It confirms that it's her, though, without doubt."

"She admitted to cheating."

"Right, she did. To you and no one else. At least that we know of. Validating the photos is standard in scandal stories because if they're faked we would fight it and file a law suit to stop the story. In this case, the pictures are pretty good quality. They haven't been altered or enhanced."

"Well, I guess that's something," he sulks.

"Tristan, the article tears Layla apart, claiming that this is not the first time she's done this. Though the source requested anonymity in the article, the magazine did receive written permission to disclose their information you and to Bold."
 

He looks at me, completely puzzled. "You know who took the photos?"

"No, I don't know who took the pictures. But I know who sent the pictures to the magazine, and I also know why the source chose
Entertainment Now
to release the story to." I had never considered who the source might be until it was brought to me. The source’s anonymity is being protected by Bold until Tristan decides he wanted to know. I am hoping that the person who sent the pictures will reveal themselves to Tristan in their own time.
 

"Why EN?" he asks. I can tell that he is doing all he can to calm himself. But surprise washes over me that he asked this question and not who.

I take a rather large drink of the wonderful wine. It seems like a waste to gulp it, but I am suddenly feeling the need to steel myself for the rest of this conversation. "EN was chosen because they have a reputation for verification. Also, they only publish once a month, and they tend to sit on the stories until the person or persons involved have a chance to respond. They do all that so they can fully attempt to verify the validity of the claims. The creators of the magazine feel it makes for better magazines if they report the truth."

The waiter interrupts us with another bottle of wine and our desserts. I take a sip of my wine, thank him, and watch him disappear back into the cabin.
 

Tristan is pale. His gaze is locked on the table.
 

I really want to reassure him. I take a stab at what might be bothering him the most about all this. "EN has given Trinity ample time to submit a statement, but per your request, she has not. Fortunately for you, EN hasn't been pressing Trinity for a response. They understand that you had very little to do with this and that you are truly a victim in this situation."

I watch as his face relaxes some, but his eyebrows are still furrowed. "I'm trying to decide if I want to know who sent in those pictures. From the way you're talking, it seems like you think I know this person. Which makes me wonder why they didn't just come to me with the story."

"I think I can answer that without telling you who."

"Go on," he encourages.
 

"My best guess? The pictures were released to EN rather than you personally because they wanted her to be painted in the light that she deserves to be painted in. This person probably knew that if you got the photos, it would end your relationship with her but you wouldn't make Layla's betrayal public. You told me yourself her career was already in jeopardy after the
Burning
movies. I'd say it's deader than dead now."
 

"I guess I can't say I'm surprised. She always caused so much trouble on set, and the constant coaching was awful and painful to have to watch and listen to. She really is a horrible actress." He takes a bite of his dessert and a sip of wine before continuing. "It would not surprise me if she slept with someone to get the part of Alyssa.” He pauses, seemingly deep in thought.
 

It suddenly strikes me like a freight train going ninety miles an hour. "That's why she slept with you, isn't it?" I ask, completely breathless. The revelation has knocked the wind right out of my lungs. Suddenly my heart aches for Tristan.

The corner of his mouth twitches. "It would be logical. She kept me close to her so that she could have me on her side, both on set and in her battles with the production company. She was constantly fighting with them, and it was natural that I would stand up for her." He seems to sober as he speaks about this.
 

"The bottom line in all of this, Tristan, is that Layla used you to further her career. When she realized that your success was not helping her any, she took matters into her own hands."

We've barely touched our desserts, but I feel full, and now I'm struck by the urge to be close to Tristan again. I get up and walk around the table. Squirm my way onto his lap. I sit straddling his legs, my arms wrapped around his neck, looking squarely into his eyes.

He smiles. In his eyes I see desire, affection, lust, need. I snuggle closer into his body, and he starts rubbing my back in a very tender gesture.
 

"Are you ready to know who sent in the pictures?"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Do I want to know who sent in those pictures? Absolutely. But not right now. All this heavy talk is a bit much. Tonight is meant to be about Cami and me.
 

I shake my head slightly. Kiss her nose. She blushes deeply, which sends my blood flying through my veins. The erection I had from before dinner comes back with a vengeance. She is so beautiful. Her makeup is very subtle, natural almost, but, like before, it shows me that she cares enough about herself and her appearance to take the effort. I won’t compare her to anyone, but it is very nice to see.
 

"Let's go back to the hot tub," I whisper, and she nods. She starts to get down from my lap, and I hold her tight. "Nuh uh, you're not walking." I let out a chuckle and stand. She really is light, and I have no problem carrying her back to the hot tub. As we pass by the waiter I say, "Can you please bring us some more champagne? Then please have Jessie make us a round of drinks?"

"Of course, sir. Will there be anything else?"
 

"No, thank you."

Once we make it to the tub I set her down in the chair and reach for the hem of her shirt. She lets me pull it over her head, which leaves her in shorts and bikini top. She's smiling coquettishly at me.

Then she stands, kicks off her flip-flops, and starts to undo her shorts. She is purposefully trying to make a show of taking off her shorts again. It's working, and I grin wickedly at her as she turns ever so slightly and slowly lowers her shorts to her ankles, bending at the waist.
 

With her ass in the air, perfectly smooth, she steps out of her shorts, batting her eyelashes in a vain attempt at innocence. I smirk at her. She takes two steps in my direction and reaches for the hem of my shirt. But before she gets a grip on it, I grab her hands, intertwine my fingers with hers, and bring them out to the side, forcing her to take that last half step that brings our bodies together.
 

I can feel her breasts pressed against my diaphragm, and I bend down, finding her lips, and I kiss her. The moment our lips meet, I feel the sweet sting of the electricity that flows through us, and the strings of conscious thought are lost. All I want is her. Here, now! But I can't.

I pull back and, slowly opening my eyes, I see her peering at me with her coquettish grin. "Oh, dear, sweet Cami. The things you make me feel." I smile at her. It's true; she makes me feel alive.
 

I start to pull my shirt over my head, but as the shirt covers my eyes, I hear her sharp intake of breath, then her hands are sliding up my stomach along my abs to my pecs and then up around my neck. With the shirt still covering my eyes, she tugs my head in her direction and I let her.

Her lips crush into mine. My body lights up like a live wire. With my sense of sight cut off, everything seems that much more intense.

Her hands release me and she starts tugging at my shirt. I let her remove it the rest of the way and embrace her. I pick her up again, further deepening our kiss.
 

Slowly, I walk us toward the tub and gingerly climb in. The water is warm. It sends shivers through my body and into Cami's. We both let out a breathy laugh. I sit down on the submerged bench that runs along the tub’s sides.