Because of You (Swanson Court Series Book 5) Page 5

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “The hooker you sent to my apartment as a birthday present.”

  “Landon, you told me you weren’t interested, remember?”

  “Since when have you ever listened to me.” There’s a note of impatience in his voice. “Stop playing around, Aidan, I need her number.”

  “I’m not playing around.”

  Landon is quiet. “So, you didn’t send a hooker to my apartment.”

  “No!” I exclaim, even as my imagination tries to piece a story together. “Let me get this straight. Some girl showed up at your apartment and you had sex with her because you thought I sent you a hooker as a birthday present?”

  His response is almost inaudible. “Yes.”

  I hoot with laughter, glad to get my mind off the problem I have in a dressing room a few doors away. “I don’t even know if that’s funny or scary. Was she cute? Did you use protection?”

  “Oh, shut up,” Landon growls.

  I’m making up dramatic scenarios up in my mind now. “She could have been a thief.” I’m still laughing. “Or an assassin. This is precious. Why do you want to find her, anyway?”

  He makes a non-committal response before ending the call, and I remind myself to tease him mercilessly when I see him face to face.

  There’s a knock on the door and Cruz sticks his head inside. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing. Come in.”

  “Had a drink with the cast,” he tells me. “You should join us sometime.”

  I shrug. I’m friendly with my cast, but it’s hard to let loose when one of them makes me feel as if I don’t know myself anymore.

  Why is it so hard to ignore her presence? Why can’t I stop thinking about her?

  Cruz is still talking. I catch Liz’s name a few times, and I focus my attention away from whatever he’s saying. On top of everything else, I don’t need to hear my stage manager talk about the wonderful princess Liz.

  Soon we’re joined by the scenery design team and for the next two hours we go over last-minute changes.

  When the meeting ends, it’s late. I tidy my desk and leave the office, closing the door behind me. Outside, the corridor is empty. I pass a few dressing rooms before I reach Liz’s door, which is ajar.

  Did she forget to close it when she left?

  Is she still around?

  Why the fuck do I care?

  I tell myself I’m not hoping she is in there, that I just want to check that the room is empty and then shut the door.

  I enter the doorway and stop.

  In the corner of my mind, I notice that she has added a few personal touches to the small room. Fairy lights twine around the bright bulbs on the dressing mirror, a couple of Chinese lanterns hang from the ceiling, a few motivational quotes hang on the walls along with a framed photo of a beautiful woman on a stage. On one corner of the dressing table, a large teddy is seated, smiling benignly in my direction.

  Liz is standing in front of the mirror, in the same clothes she was wearing earlier, thick black tights that cling to her beautiful legs and a sweater that falls off one shoulder exposing the smooth curve.

  In my mind, I kiss that shoulder and hear a low moan escape her lips. It feels real enough that I can’t stop the hardening in my groin. I push my hands into my pockets.

  She slides the handle of her bag over her shoulder, and looks up, startling as her eyes meet mine in the mirror.

  Why does looking at her always make me feel like I’m being punched in the gut? I curse silently as she turns around to face me.

  “I was just on my way out,” I tell her.

  “And?” Her tone is hostile.

  No surprise there.

  “Your door was open.” I sound lame. I am lame.

  She shrugs dismissively. “You can close it if it bothers you.”

  “I didn’t say…” I stop and cross my arms. I’m the fucking director here. If anybody should try to get on anyone’s good side, it should be her. “Are you going to act like a resentful child throughout this production?”

  She tilts her head back, green eyes burning in a fierce challenge. “Are you going to apologize for being a dick?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “Because, I wasn’t being a dick. I was being frank about what I expected from you. Now you, acting like a diva who didn’t get her way…making it obvious that you have some sort of beef with me…you’re being a dick.”

  “I’m being a…” She chokes. “You’re unbelievable!”

  “And you’ve been mad for days because you think I should have been excited about auditioning an inexperienced actress whose only credential, to the best of my knowledge is that her father is producing the play. That’s diva behavior, Liz.” I shrug. “Why do you care so much what I said, anyway? You got the part. Isn’t that enough?”

  She looks as if she’s going to cry. “I don’t care,” she mumbles, brushing past me. Her arm touches my chest, making me tense. Soft wisps of her hair brush against my chin. She smells intoxicating, like the first cool breeze of autumn.

  And she cares what I think.

  Why?

  And why do I care so much if she resents me or not?

  I know the answer. It’s because I’m drawn to her in ways even I can’t explain.

  She has already swung past me and is heading down the corridor. I shut the door, my eyes going to her name printed on the nameplate.

  I need to stay away from her. She is inexperienced, and she is my lead actress. I might be young, but I’ve seen enough to know that working relationships are better with no complications and complexities.

  I will stay away from her. It’s as simple as that.

  Chapter Seven

  Liz

  “Why do you care so much what I said?”

  I’ve asked myself that question over and over. Why do I care?

  I’ve never been so wrong about someone. How could I have liked him, admired him for so long when he’s just another arrogant asshole?

  Aidan Court could be the most talented director in the world, but it doesn’t change the fact that I hate him.

  So much.

  My phone beeps.

  “What are you doing?” Fiona says when I answer. “Stewing about the nasty Aidan Court again? I’m bored.”

  “You’re always bored…” I sigh. “And who is Aidan Court? I don’t know anyone by that name.”

  “Ohhhhh…That’s how we’re playing it. I like. Let’s go shopping…or let’s go to a party and flirt with guys.”

  I like the idea of meeting guys and maybe getting Aidan out of my head.

  “Which party?” Attending a regular college for her English Lit degree instead of a drama program like mine means she usually knows where the best parties are.

  “Hmm?” She sounds distracted. “Forget that. My cousin has a sculpture exhibition in Brooklyn. We can meet bad guys…tortured artists guaranteed to break our hearts.”

  I roll my eyes. I have no interest in getting my heart broken by any pretentious artists.

  Not when you’re fixated on Aidan, an inner voice whispers.

  I ignore it.

  Anyway, knowing Fiona, she’ll change her mind until we end up not going anywhere. I’m thinking of something interesting we can do when there’s a knock on my door.

  “Open.”

  My dad sticks his head inside. “Hey, Sweet Pea.”

  I make a face at the childhood nickname. “Hey, dad.”

  “You’re going somewhere tonight?”

  Hoping he’s not planning to rope me into some boring father-daughter bonding nightmare, I shake my head. “Not sure.”

  “Good. Neil Anders is in town. Many people want to see him, so he’ll be here tonight for a party I’m hosting. A small one. Mostly industry people. I thought…since you’re an industry person now yourself…you might want to know.”

  My childish scowl turns into an excited grin. Neil Anders is a movie star,
Hollywood director, and a friend of my dad’s. He’s a big deal in industry circles, so even if the party is informal, it’ll be full of heavyweights. “I’m invited?”

  “Yup. You qualify. You’re a working actress now.”

  “I’ll try to act like one.”

  He laughs and closes the door. My notifications are full of multiple messages from Fiona. She still hasn’t decided on any place.

  “How about you come over,” I type. “We’re having a party for an actual Hollywood star.”

  Her response is classic Fiona. “Leonardo DiCaprio?”

  “You wish.”

  She sends a disappointed face, then, “Okay. I’ll be there.”

  I’ve attended a few of my father’s parties before. I have memories of being trotted out as a child to meet important people and being excited for all of two minutes before I had to go back to bed.

  As I grew older, I attended a few more, watched famous musicians play award winning songs on my dad’s Steinway, and had short conversations with screen and stage legends, some of whom I’m sure, pretended to find me interesting for my father’s sake.

  This party isn’t much different. It’s very informal or as informal as a party with multiple award winners can be. Neil Anders is the center of attention and everyone fawns over him. A few people from the production also come, so for the first time, there are guests I know from work.

  After my father introduces me to people who seem genuinely pleased to learn that I now have a professional acting role, I listen to Neil’s stories about directing Hollywood projects, eat enough to make my dress feel tight, and keep my eye on the entrance waiting for the one person who hasn’t shown up.

  Aidan.

  My father confirmed that he invited everyone from the play, and everyone includes Aidan. So, where is he?

  “You look bored.”

  I’d wandered over to the DJ set-up. Dante is a drama major from my program who DJs as a side gig. The music is tailored to the audience, low, muted and yes… boring.

  “I’m not bored,” I reply, still wondering when and if Aidan will show up. “I’m just…a little bored.”

  Dante’s face splits in a brilliant smile. “How about I do one song for you?”

  “Can I choose?”

  He shakes his head. “Nope.”

  “Ookay.”

  He changes the music to an upbeat tune, a jazz remix of a popular pop song. I grin. “I like!”

  “You gotta do better than just like,” Dante tells me, nodding his head to the music. “Dance!”

  My short, beaded dress is made for the music. Dante slides out from behind his setup and takes my hand, and we dance.

  It feels awesome. The upbeat music, the excitement as older guests make space for us, watching and clapping as I shimmy, spin and laugh as Dante twirls me around.

  As the song ends, he spins me around one last time and, leaving me twirling, runs back to his setup.

  I come to a stop just as the song changes and find myself standing face to face with Aidan.

  I’m breathless, my face flushed, and… he’s looking down at me with a half-smirk on his beautiful lips. Caught in his blue gaze, I can barely hear the clapping that fills the room. I watch him raise his hands slowly and join in the applause.

  Why does it feel like he’s mocking me?

  I take a step back. My stomach, suddenly tightly knotted. I’m wildly excited to see him, yet his presence fills me with a tension I can’t even begin to explain.

  “Hi Liz.” His voice is deep and soft.

  “Hi.” I’m still breathless, still lost in his gaze. I frown, then mutter something about getting some water and hurry away from him.

  He came! How long had he been standing there watching me dance? I can see his face in my mind’s eye. That half-smile…and then the slow clapping. What does that mean…and why am I suddenly so nervous?

  Fiona is flirting with an actor from a popular high school sitcom. She looks giddy and blissful, so I leave her and go into the kitchen where our housekeeper Gertie is supervising the people from the catering company. I find a cold bottle of water on the counter and take a long drink.

  “Having fun?” Gertie asks, peering at me.

  I shrug. “So so.”

  Her eyes soften with laughter. “I thought you’d be more excited.”

  My mind goes to Aidan, and the way my heart skipped when I saw him. I’m excited all right.

  “You look flushed,” Gertie observes. “It can’t only be so so.”

  “It’s okay. I was dancing.” I shrug, then escape her ultra-perceptive eyes and return to the party.

  Fiona is still flirting, and most people have gone back to flocking around the guest of honor. I can’t find Aidan anywhere, and as my eyes travel across the length and breadth of the room, I wonder if he already left.

  He’s notorious for rarely attending parties and not staying for long when he does.

  He probably left.

  The thought fills me with something like panic.

  Why do I even care about his presence or absence? He can move to Greenland for all I care.

  “Hey, you good?” It’s Ben, an actor from the play.

  I push Aidan from my mind and force a smile. “Yeah.”

  “Saw you dancing earlier…you can move.”

  “Thanks.” My mind goes back to Aidan. Crestfallen at his absence, I excuse myself and leave the party again, making my way through an adjoining sitting room and out onto the patio.

  It’s a cool evening, just windy enough to require a thin sweater. I step out into the quiet space and shiver when I see a familiar figure leaning on the balustrade.

  I pause, waiting. I wasn’t loud entering the patio, but I’m sure he heard, or perhaps sensed me join him. As I stand by the doors, he turns around to face me.

  “Are you going to stand there or are you going to join me?”

  I don’t reply. I should turn around and return to the party. I hate him. No one jumps at opportunities to spend solitary moments with the objects of their dislike.

  Except for me, obviously.

  He turns back to the view and pulls on a cigarette I hadn’t noticed he was holding. I walk toward him. “I didn’t know you smoked.”

  He holds out the e-cig and studies it for a moment, then shrugs and lifts his blue eyes to mine. “I’ve done far worse.”

  There’s something haunted in his gaze, invisible demons that peek out in one quick moment, hinting at dark secrets and darker pain.

  He turns back to the view.

  I’m shivering again, and it’s not the cold. We’re standing side by side, both silent. I follow his gaze and take in the nighttime vista of the park, the city…all familiar, and all new somehow, because I’m standing so close to him.

  I feel his eyes on me, and when I summon the courage to face him, he turns away. I study his face, his features, from the waves of his hair to the firm line of his jaw. He’s so perfect it makes my stomach hurt to look at him. Suddenly, I don’t care about the things he said about me. I don’t care that I hate him. I want him to talk to me, to tell me what he’s thinking. I want him to kiss me under the night sky.

  “Have you ever been in love?”

  The question jolts me. My skin…my whole body feels heated. “I…maybe. I don’t know.”

  He looks amused. “Surely, you can do better than that.”

  I swallow. “I had a crush on a boy back in high school. He had a crush on me too and we dated for a while.”

  Aidan leans close to me, and I try not to faint. “A crush. So…what happened?”

  “There was another guy,” I shrug as if it doesn’t matter. “I just…I guess I liked him so much it made my first crush seem ordinary.”

  He’s grinning. “My! What an interesting life you’ve lived, Liz McKay.”

  His tone stings. “You’re mocking me.”

  “No, I’m not.” He shakes his head. “So how did the love triangle end?”

  “I…I gre
w out of my first crush. He went off to college, and we broke up.”

  “And the new crush…Did he turn out to be the love of your life?”

  I meet his gaze. His eyes are the most vibrant blue, even here in the dark. What would he say if he knew that I obsessed about him since I first saw his picture in a magazine? That I saw all his plays and read all his interviews?

  He’d laugh and call me a fool, and I am a fool for not dismissing my ridiculous feelings for him even now that I know what a bastard he is.

  A beautiful bastard.

  I look away from his face. “No…” I murmur. “He turned out to be a disappointment.”

  Aidan doesn’t reply. He reaches out toward my face and my heart starts to race in expectation, but he only smooths a wisp of hair behind my ear. “You know your character requires you to portray intense emotion, slightly more intense than crushes.”

  “My character…” For a few seconds, I’m confused, then I remember. Of course, my character. He hadn’t been asking about my romantic history because he was interested. He’s working, even now. While I was thinking how he was the most perfect man I knew, how much I wanted him to reach for me, to me, somehow…he was working on the blasted play.

  My face falls. “I’m sure I can portray intense emotion,” I snap. What had I expected? That there was some sort of connection between us? After everything? “And if you’re so anal that you have to bring work into a conversation at a party,” I continue. “Don’t make it about my personal life. You could have just said that as my director you expect me to portray intense emotion, not ask me about my romantic history.”

  “You sound mad.” He chuckles. “Do you regret telling me about the two great loves of your life?” His eyes are mocking. “Lighten up, Liz…” He shrugs and raises the e-cig to his lips again.

  “Don’t tell me what to do,” I retort. “You… nicotine addict.”

  He raises an amused eyebrow at my lame insult. Without waiting for him to respond, I flounce back into the house.

  Why do I let him piss me off so easily?

  “I’ve been looking for you,” Fiona catches me as soon as I rejoin the party. “Where were you?” Her eyes fix on a movement behind me and she grins. “Ohhhhh…”