Because of You (Swanson Court Series Book 5) Read online

  “You can at least let me try.”

  “Why?” He takes a step toward me, then stops and his eyes rake me from head to toe. “You know what, Liz? There’s no point. Just leave me alone.”

  “I’m sorry about the press thing,” I say quickly, before he turns away. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I was afraid that you’d say something cruel about me before I even had a chance to convince you I’m not the same person I was seven years ago.”

  “You’re still the same person.” His voice is almost pitying. “You were afraid I’d say something that wouldn’t be flattering to your image? That’s your explanation?”

  When I don’t reply, he continues. “Fuck it, Liz. You’re so out of touch with reality. Don’t you care about anything but how you look to your adoring fans? Are you even real anymore?” His voice drops to a whisper. “Were you ever real?”

  I am. I was, and he’s wrong about me. “I care what you think,” I tell him. “I told the whole world how I feel, how I still feel about you. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

  He looks tired. “No, it doesn’t. You already told me how you feel about me, remember? You told me loud and clear seven years ago.”

  “Aidan…”

  “Aidan!”

  We both turn toward the female voice at the same time. The newcomer is an attractive woman with a lithe model’s body in a sheath dress and black pumps.

  She’s almost as tall as Aidan, and when she walks past me and takes his arm, she plants a slow kiss on his lips.

  The granite in his expression relaxes into a smile. He doesn’t bother to introduce me, and she walks through the doorway into his office without a glance in my direction, all the while looking at Aidan with a smile that reeks of familiarity and intimacy.

  Jealousy twists my insides. I hadn’t even considered that there would be someone else. How stupid of me. I know he hasn’t been celibate all these years, but seeing him now with another woman, tears at me in a way I never imagined possible.

  I want to confront her and tell her Aidan belongs to me.

  Except, he doesn’t, and I have no right in the world to feel this crippling jealousy and possessiveness.

  “Are we done here?” Aidan’s voice jerks me out of my thoughts.

  “For now,” I smile and lift my chin, hiding my pain. “I guess I’ll see you later.”

  Chapter Twenty One

  Aidan

  “It’s been forever since you returned my calls,” Claire says. Her eyes hold mine and I compare them with Liz’s luminous green gaze. “I was almost too proud to say yes to lunch.” She gives me a coquettish smile. “What would you have done if I’d refused to see you?”

  I shrug. “Nothing.”

  “You wouldn’t bother to change my mind?”

  I don’t reply. Our food arrives, and I watch Claire push her steamed broccoli around on her plate. Randomly, I think about how she hardly eats. Randomly, I compare that to my memories of Liz’s healthy appetite.

  Somewhere inside, I’d known that calling Claire to distract myself from Liz would turn out to be a mistake. Claire is beautiful, smart, entertaining, and sexually uninhibited.

  But she’s not Liz.

  Nobody is.

  She drops her fork and reaches out to cover my hand with hers. Her eyes mist, and I know something big is coming.

  “I was glad when you called, and I couldn’t wait to see you. I just…I wish you’d try to make me feel like I mean something to you, something more than sex.”

  Halfway through her speech I’m already thinking about Liz again. I pull my hand back with a sigh. Lunch was a mistake, and I don’t want to lie to her.

  “Listen—”

  “How about we go over to your place right now, and I’ll show you just how much I’ve missed you?”

  “Claire…”

  Something about my tone makes her stop. I feel like an asshole.

  I am an asshole.

  “I just…I’m busy with the play. I don’t think I have the time for any distractions right now.”

  She scowls. “That’s ridiculous. It never stopped you before.”

  Because none of the other plays had Liz in them.

  “Is that why you asked me to lunch? To dump me?”

  “I’m not dumping you.” You can’t dump someone if you were never dating.

  “It’s because of her, isn’t it?”

  “Who?” My voice is blank, though I know exactly who she means.

  “Liz McKay.” She curls her lips when she says the name, and my back stiffens in instinctive defense. “You two used to go out, and she practically admitted to the whole world that she’s still in love with you. Maybe you’re the one who’s still in love with her.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Fuck you!” Her voice rises, then she sniffs. “Why did you even ask me to have lunch? You could have ignored my messages and ghosted me forever. That would have been kinder than letting me think there was a chance…” She throws her napkin on the table. “You know what? Goodbye, Aidan. I guess I was foolish for thinking I could live up to the Liz McKay.”

  She pushes away from the table and heads for the exit. I watch her go, but I don’t stop her. As she nears the doors, they open and Liz walks into the restaurant.

  She’s dressed the same as she was back at the theater. The same oversized sweater and black tights with boots in the same color. Her hair is different. It was in a topknot earlier, now it’s flowing free around her shoulders, and her full lips are glistening with a fresh coat of lip gloss.

  Desire, acute and uncontrolled, pools in my groin. My fingers curl and ache with the sheer need to feel the softness of her skin.

  It makes sense that she would come here, to this restaurant. It’s popular among the theatre crowd. Still, seeing her fills me with a raw frustration. I don’t need the constant reminder of her presence and proximity. I don’t need the constant reminder that I’m still helplessly under her spell.

  Claire stops walking, and as I watch, she spits a few words at Liz, who only smiles in response. Next to Claire, she looks like a goddess, dripping with almost unbelievable beauty and equanimity from her hair to her toes. Claire sweeps past her and out of the doors.

  Liz lingers at the entrance for a few moments, then, meeting my gaze, she walks over to my table. The neckline of her sweater slips over one shoulder, exposing smooth, delicate skin and calling attention to the soft swell of her breasts.

  I want to stroke my tongue over that exposed skin, and everywhere else.

  Fuck me.

  “I’m not stalking you,” she says with a soft smile.

  I tear my eyes away from her. “I don’t care.”

  She expels a small, amused breath. What does she think is there to be amused about?

  “I’ve just been told that you’re an asshole and I’m welcome to keep you.”

  “The first part is true. I am an asshole. The second part, not so much. I’d rather sip lava than spend more time with you than I absolutely need to.”

  “Aidan…” She draws out my name in a soft plea. Then she sighs. “Can I join you?”

  I rise from my seat. “I was just leaving, Liz. The table is all yours.”

  I can feel her eyes on me as I walk away, and it gives me an immense, though immature sense of satisfaction to feel her frustration as she watches me go.

  That night I bury myself in my notes for the play. There’s a note for every performer, for every scene. I make additions and changes, my mind absorbed in my vision for the play.

  Until I get to Liz’s part.

  Thinking about her, her performance, her lines, her words and gestures, the extra something she brings to every role…and my mind goes from work mode to an unproductive, daydreaming, longing mode.

  I want her…so much.

  I put the notes aside and massage my temples, as if that would somehow get Liz out of my head. I switch on my rarely used TV and navigate to one of the streaming apps, then to
the list of saved movies in my library.

  They all have one thing in common.

  Liz.

  Watching her movies has been my one indulgence these past years, and I’ve seen them all at least half a million times.

  This time, I choose a romantic comedy. It’s one of her early movies, a box-office success that reinforced her reputation as a bankable movie star. The movie starts, and she takes over the screen, and I can’t take my eyes off her long enough to focus on the story which I already know by heart.

  Liz.

  My Liz.

  Beautiful, effortlessly sexy, and incredibly talented.

  My phone buzzes, pulling me out of the spell of Liz’s face and voice. Reluctantly, I reach for it and flick my finger across the screen.

  Aidan…I’m terribly sorry about the presser and for all the awkwardness. Let’s talk. Liz.

  Staring at her words on my screen, with her voice coming from the speakers, it feels almost as though she’s in the room with me.

  Let’s talk.

  Why does she keep pushing this insane demand for a conversation as if mere words can change anything for us?

  I ignore the text, but even as my eyes go back to the screen, I find it impossible to focus.

  My phone buzzes again.

  Dinner. At Sardi’s. Nine o' clock. Just like we used to. I’ll buy.

  Just like we used to. I almost smile at the memories, before nostalgia is replaced by the familiar sense of betrayal. Does she know she is assaulting my peace of mind? She probably does. That’s her style, after all.

  I should go to the restaurant and drag her back here. There are a lot of things I’d gladly do with her. Just like we used to.

  The image of her in my arms, in my bed, sends a powerful thrill of arousal through me, and my cock hardens.

  I resist the temptation to take matters in my hands. With her face on the screen and her voice coming from the speakers, it would be easy to close my eyes and imagine her hands touching me, her voice in my ear, her mouth around my cock…

  Fuck her.

  From nowhere a memory creeps into my head. Liz, years ago, laughing as she snuggles in my arms. “I never knew it was possible to be this happy.”

  Then why did you throw it away?

  I switch off the TV and toss my phone to the far edge of the sofa before going to pour myself a drink.

  No, Liz. I won’t have dinner with you.

  We’re not going to talk.

  I won’t let you push me over the edge.

  She had my heart once, and she destroyed it. Now, I have no intention of giving her anything else, especially my time.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Liz

  “There is no close up.” Aidan’s voice is like a whiplash. “You’ve got to show more emotion for the audience to understand what you’re going on about. There’s no sound mixing. It’s just you and them. Can you at least act as if you understand?”

  I bite back a sharp retort. “I’m trying to give you what you want.”

  “Try harder.” He paces a few steps then turns around to glare at me.

  When I don’t move, he leans forward, raising his hand questioningly. “Is there something you want to say?” His voice takes on a mocking tone. “Or is there something you require before you can give us a passable performance? Is your trailer not luxurious enough? Would you prefer a different brand of bottled water?”

  I grit my teeth. “Stop it.”

  “Do your job and give me a scene.”

  What a bastard!

  Pressing my lips together, I prepare for another attempt to do the godforsaken scene. Since he ignored my invitation to dinner, I’ve made no headway with him. Sitting in a restaurant for two hours waiting for him had been humiliating enough to make me think maybe I should give it up. Having my picture taken by a fellow diner and leaked to the press with headlines talking about how I’d been stood up only added to the humiliation.

  As if that’s not enough, his attitude at rehearsals is close to unbearable. Every day is the same. He snaps and snarls at me during rehearsals, and after, he acts as if I don’t exist.

  I spend most of my evenings with my father, and long after he dozes off, I wrack my brains for ideas on what to do about Aidan.

  I can seduce him. The force of my attraction to him has not diminished over time, and I have no doubt it’s the same for him.

  But Aidan will not react well to any attempts to manipulate him, especially with my body.

  No, I have to convince him some other way that if he shelves his hatred of me for long enough, he’ll see reason to give me a chance.

  “So, from the top?” Todd, my co-star, looks from Aidan to me. He gives me a small wink as if in solidarity.

  I give him a grateful smile.

  “For fuck’s sake,” Aidan growls. “I know you two are having a moment, but can we please get back to the scene?”

  “Aidan seems to have it in for you,” Todd observes later. We’re both exhausted from trying to give Aidan his perfect scene.

  I hate that I feel compelled to defend Aidan, even though he’s treating me like I’m dog poop stuck in his shoe. “He’s a perfectionist.”

  Todd raises an eyebrow as if he can’t quite believe I’m defending my tormentor like some sort of masochist.

  “Forget Aidan,” he says. “Would you like to get lunch?”

  I shake my head. “I’m exhausted and aching for some quality shut eye.”

  After he leaves, I briefly consider heading over to Fiona’s when my phone rings. It’s a number I don’t recognize.

  “Hello.” My voice is wary.

  “Hello, Liz.” The voice on the other end is light, friendly, and vaguely familiar. “This is Rachel Court.”

  Rachel…Oh! Rachel. I met Aidan’s brother and his charming sister-in-law, a long time ago, in what now seems like another life. Different, unlikely reasons for her call run through my mind. “I…Hi!”

  “Hi!” She laughs, probably at my confusion. “It’s been a while. How are you?”

  “I’m fine.” I’m not. Not really. I have a sudden and unbidden memory of the night Landon proposed to her. It was a party, and I’d been there as Aidan’s date. We’d been so happy and in love, and I was just days away from breaking his heart into pieces.

  A wave of longing washes over me and I stifle a sigh.

  “I’ve just spoken to your publicist,” Rachel is saying in her sweet, lilting voice. “We want to do a feature on you for Gilt Review. I imagine she’ll call to let you know, but I wanted to find out from you if you’d be interested.”

  “Of course,” I reply, remembering now that she is an editor at one of the prestigious Gilt magazines. “I’d love to.”

  “Okay. I’m sure our people can arrange the scheduling and logistics.” There’s a pause. “I’m having a party later in the week,” she tells me. “I wondered if you’d like to come.”

  Will Aidan be there? The question hovers on the tip of my tongue. Does she know? Does she know how much I hurt him and how much I’d give to get him back? Does she know how much he hates me?

  He’ll probably hate me more if he sees me socializing with his family.

  Or maybe it’ll give me a chance to talk to him outside work.

  “I’d love to come,” I tell Rachel.

  “Great! I’ll send you the date and time, Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Back in rehearsals, Aidan is as impatient and caustic as ever and I wonder if he knows his sister-in-law has just reached out to me, and what he would do when he finds out.

  Probably find new ways to torture me.

  After rehearsals are finally over, everybody leaves, and I head over to Aidan’s temporary office.

  It’s just a few doors down from the rehearsal space. In a few days, we’ll move rehearsals to the theater, and I’ll be standing on a real stage again.

  I’ve missed being on the stage. I’ve missed the audience and the applause. As much as I appreciat
e what I’d achieved in cinema, I know being onstage will feel like being back home.

  If only Aidan would stop torturing me.

  I reach his door and knock. It’s slightly ajar, and the force of my knock pushes it open about an inch.

  “Yes?”

  He sounds distracted. I step into the office and close the door behind me. The space is bare, with only a simple desk and a chair. Aidan is leaning on the wall beside a small window with open shutters, scrolling through his tablet. He doesn’t look up when I enter but I sense the stiffening of his body.

  Like I’m a poisonous reptile he’d rather avoid.

  “Nice place.”

  He doesn’t reply. He lifts his gaze to my face, his blue eyes conveying both irritation and dismissal without diminishing his beauty one bit.

  “Oh look, it’s Cruella de Ville,” he says with faux excitement. “What do you want?”

  I walk over to his desk and settle on the edge, facing him. “Can you be honest with me?”

  He scowls. “Are you being serious?”

  “Answer the question.”

  “It seems a bit redundant for me to have to point this out, but I’m not the one who has a problem with honesty.”

  I ignore his statement. “Do you sincerely think my performance is horrible?”

  He watches me for a moment, his eyes measuring. “Will you pack up and leave if I say yes?”

  “Maybe,” I shrug. “But you agreed to be honest.”

  He runs a hand through his hair, tousling the waves. My fingers itch to smooth them back, but he’ll likely bite my hand off if I so much as touch him.

  “Liz.” He sounds bored. “You either do the play or you don’t. If you want to leave, go. Don’t look to me to give you an excuse.”

  “So, you can’t answer my question. You can’t tell me the truth, can you? Because then you wouldn’t have an excuse to bully and humiliate me all day.”

  “Humiliate?” He laughs. “You want me to coddle you? Is that what you want? You want me to tell you how great you are? To flatter you and feed your ego?”

  “That’s not what I want!”