* * *
When Ferro’s limo pulled up to the curb in front of Julia’s high-rise, he was genuinely stunned by her appearance. She was utterly captivating in a long black dress—the woman didn’t seem to own another color—that skimmed the gray sidewalk. The sleeves were long and full, like a kimono, and the neck high, revealing very little of her pale skin.
Her blond hair was pulled back in a low, messy bun, her makeup done all in shades of pale pink and gold. Her lips were painted the lightest rose, and it created the strangest curiosity in him. A fascination with what they might look like darker, flushed with arousal. Strange because he never felt curious about those things. He knew all about sex. There was no mystery left.
He’d opened the door and let her into the limo, and then both of them had spent the drive down the interstate on their mobile devices, finishing up the day’s interrupted work.
When they pulled up to Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, the streets were already blocked off. Ferro’s limo was given immediate access, and they were let out near the end of the red carpet. This sort of thing had never been his favorite aspect of fame. The fortune was his biggest draw. These events did very little for him. Giving fake smiles to even faker people ranked low on his list of things he’d like to do with his Friday night.
Julia had the most purposeful look of boredom on her face he’d ever seen. Like she was forcing her lips to stay pulled together, forcing herself not to smile. She was stiff, walking with her head held high, her posture overly straight.
But beneath all of that, she was vibrating under the surface. Energy was pouring from her in waves, though he knew no one standing far away from her would ever be able to tell. But he could feel her shaking.
She seemed to like a spectacle, her presentations were so ostentatious it was unreal, but then, she was in control of them. The press played by her rules in those situations. Perhaps that was the cause of her unease now. It wasn’t her security keeping the fans at bay. The press weren’t being held to her guidelines.
He pulled her to him, lacing his fingers through hers. “We’re ready to walk the carpet.” He could feel her fingers trembling in his. “Relax,” he said. “We aren’t the A list. We won’t be mobbed.”
“I’ve seen pictures snapped of you while you were getting coffee at Roasted. You’re mobbed frequently.”
“Yes, but not when there are movie stars around. Come on. Anyway, if we are mobbed, our purposes will be served even better.” He tugged her along and when they stepped onto the carpet, he turned his smile on full.
Julia did the same, waving at the crowd lining the velvet rope that partitioned the masses from the golden few, hand-selected to enter into the realm of the elite. Very often Ferro felt like he still had more in common with those behind the rope.
She walked a bit ahead of him, her steps nervous and quick, and that was when he noticed the back of her dress, or rather, the lack of it, for the first time. It was cut low and wide, a swath of white skin on show from her shoulder blades down to the indent of her back, just above the curve of her butt.
It was the shock of it that made him want to touch. He was sure of that. He was a man far too jaded by his past to be aroused by a wedge of skin. Far too jaded to allow himself to be aroused at all, unless it was late at night and he needed a sleep aid. And yet, he found that he was. That fascinated him nearly as much as her exposed skin.
“Slow down,” he said, pulling her back to his side.
“Sorry,” she said, a smile still plastered on her face. “Nervous.”
“Don’t be. Just remember, they’re all here to see you. You’re the one in the enviable position. You’re beautiful. Successful. Everyone out there would love to be here. They would trade places with you in a heartbeat.” The words came, easy and without much thought or sincerity. He was good at giving compliments. At giving women exactly what they desired.
At keeping his mind somewhere else entirely, even while he gave all of his body. A perfect disconnect.
Her smile altered subtly, became more genuine. “That was a nice thing to say.”
“It’s true,” he said, without pausing to think if it really was.