“I know.” He shrugs. “Although, with you both on the project…”
My laugh is bitter. “With our history together, it will become a carnival. An investor’s dream come true, for sure. The tabloids would speculate to death about us. It won’t happen, though. Aidan will never agree to work with me. Once he discovers there’s a chance I’ll be in the play, he will never sign on to do it.”
“And if he does…” My father gives me a piercing look. “Would you work with him?”
The possibility causes something to tighten low in my belly. I close my eyes. Reach for your dreams. I’d come for my father, but I also came for Aidan. “Yes.” My voice is soft but firm. “Yes, of course.”
“Maybe he feels the same.”
My lips curve in a sad smile and I shake my head. “I broke his heart, dad. He hates me. If I were him, I wouldn’t want to work with me either.”
My father shrugs. “You might be surprised.”
I know he’s wrong, but still, the words give me hope.
Chapter Two
Aidan
“Fuck me,” I mutter under my breath be
fore scrawling my signature on the dotted line.
“This is a great project,” Debra reminds me with an elaborate eye-roll. “I know you’re excited.”
I ignore the eye-roll and watch her gather up the contracts. She has a quiet efficiency that’s invaluable in an assistant, and she is right. I am excited, but I know the feeling will only last until I enter the theater and face the stage, and it would feel as though Liz was standing right there, eyes dancing, watching me with that trademark Liz McKay expression that is both challenge and capitulation.
Then for the next few months, I would drive myself and my actors, demanding their best performances, trying to forget the one woman I don’t want to think about, the one woman I can’t stop thinking about.
Liz.
It doesn’t help that when I walk out of the theater there’d be a twenty-foot billboard in Times Square with her face smiling slyly down at me. It doesn’t help that the critics can’t stop comparing any new play I direct with that first play. She’s like the poet’s voiceless ghost, facing round about me everywhere.
“So, I’ll get these back to Natalia ASAP,” Debra announces, interrupting my thoughts. “Don’t forget, you’re attending Celeste Granger’s party later this evening.”
I grimace. “That’s today?”
She gives me an exasperated frown. “Yes.”
I respect Celeste Granger. She’s a talented performer, and her soirees are legendary—a way for industry heavyweights to socialize and make deals over cocktails and aperitifs. She always invites me, and I’d agreed to attend this one, though I’m already regretting that decision.
“Everybody who’s anybody will be there,” Debra tells me, “and it wouldn’t hurt you to socialize a little.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” I drum my fingers on the surface of my desk, pensive, and unsure why. It feels like there’s a storm cloud in the air, about to burst.
My eyes go to the documents now tucked under Debra’s arm. I never sign contracts without a thorough vetting by my lawyers and myself. I’ve also met with Natalia Barrow, the producer, over the last few weeks, to discuss the play, logistics, auditions, everything…and yet now that I’ve signed the contract I feel like there’s something I’ve missed, something significant that I won’t like.
“Do you need anything else?” Debra asks, no doubt eager to run off to her boyfriend in Brooklyn and indulge in a few hours of eye-rolling about her privileged yet bad-tempered boss. Not that I blame her.
Just then, the door to my bedroom opens. I don’t turn to look, but Debra’s eyes follow Claire as she emerges fully dressed and walks over to my chair.
“Hi, Claire,” Debra’s voice is dry. She doesn’t like Claire. Hell, it’s not even settled that she likes me.
“Hey.” Claire acknowledges her, then kisses me on the lips. After our lunch date, which occurred mostly in my bed, she’s ready to get back to work at the reputable art gallery where she’s a curator. “See you tonight?” Her eyes are questioning.
I shake my head. “I have a thing.”
“Oh.” Her smile stays on and she looks from me to Debra. “Call me, then.”