Joshua Cabot had a nice face. She’d thought so from the first time she’d met him. Yes, she’d been influenced by his brilliance and reputation as a director, but his warm, fond expression when he’d spoken about his four daughters had utterly convinced Gia that she would be working with a decent man. Dan Arden, in comparison to Joshua, looked far less compassionate. His expression had settled into one of resigned annoyance.
“Maddie has a point, Gia,” Joshua said. Gia raised her eyebrows at the familiar usage of the district attorney’s name. She gave Madeline a pointed, disbelieving glance.
“Joshua and I go way back,” Madeline admitted to Gia with a smile at the director.
“So that gives you the right to plot with him about my life behind my back?” Gia asked incredulously.
“Retract the claws, dear,” Madeline said without any heat. “I’m thinking about your health and well-being.”
“You’re thinking about getting my testimony without any major hitches,” Gia corrected.
Madeline smiled. “You’re right. Your health and well-being relate directly to the health and well-being of my case, though. And Alex’s too, indirectly,” she said, glancing at the FBI agent, who nodded. “But believe it or not, I’d rather you remained in one piece for personal reasons as well. I’m busy enough as it is without having to deal with unwanted guilt if something happens to you because of this media circus,” she said wearily. She noticed Gia’s stubborn expression. “I know I told you at the start of all this that I’d try to make this as painless as possible for you. But circumstances alter all the time, Gia. We have to be flexible, given the changing atmosphere.”
“Why did you call them here?” Gia demanded under her breath. God, what if the studio took steps to break her contract? She wouldn’t put it past them. Who wanted to deal with all the trouble, inconvenience and loss of time and money Gia was bound to bring them, embroiled in this trial as she was?
Charles Trew leaned forward, elbows on the table. “It’s too risky to keep you in L.A., Gia.”
“I can’t just pick up and leave,” she exclaimed.
“We’re not talking about anything permanent,” Madeline soothed. “But given the way things are escalating, everyone agrees that in the three weeks leading up to the trial, we need you out of this pressure cooker. Gone. Before something explodes in our faces.”
“Locked up in a hotel room somewhere? No. I’ve told you all, I hate confinement. I start to feel like I’m going crazy being penned inside for any more than a day or two. And what about the movie—”
“Joshua and Mr. Arden have kindly agreed to arrange things so that your scenes can be postponed,” Madeline said.
There. The bomb had been dropped. Her skin tingled in anxiety. She met Joshua’s stare.
“But you can’t do that,” she said softly, stunned. “It will cost the studio hundreds of thousands of dollars—”
“And a hell of a lot more inconvenience,” Arden interrupted succinctly, glowering at her. Gia clamped her mouth shut, mortified by the movie executive’s harsh chastisement. Madeline cleared her throat in the uncomfortable silence that followed and gave Charles a significant glance.
“The bottom line is, the studio understands the complexity of this situation and is willing to make allowances for it,” Charles smoothed.
“I’m so sorry,” Gia told Joshua. “I didn’t have any choice in any of this.”
Arden made a huffing sound and shifted restlessly in his chair. Gia was sure she knew what he was thinking. You could have said you weren’t certain it was Sterling McClarin you saw getting up off a bruised and stunned teenage girl. You could have said, “I just don’t recall” or “I can’t say for certain it was McClarin.”
You could have lied.
But she couldn’t. And therein lay the problem.
“Of course, you didn’t have any choice.”
She looked up into Joshua Cabot’s sympathetic face. She hoped he read the monumental gratefulness for his words in her gaze. He nodded slightly and gave her a small reassuring smile before he turned his attention to Charles Trew.
“How do you plan on making one of the most recognizable faces in the country disappear until the legal proceedings begin?”
Someone rapped firmly on the door. It opened and a Los Angeles County deputy stepped inside.
“Mr. Hightower is here,” the deputy said to Charles. Charles stood, a satisfied expression on his face.
“Ah, good. Hopefully, here is the man who can answer your question, Joshua.”
Surely fate had overserved its share of shock in the past twenty-four hours. Gia had been rattled around in her car and frantic with worry for her bruised driver, Jim. She’d suffered the unpleasant shock of seeing Joshua Cabot and Dan Arden sitting at the conference table.
It seemed, however, that fate wasn’t finished with her yet. She stared in ragged disbelief as Seth Hightower stalked into the conference room.
Four