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“Oh, that’s right. ‘We’ means you and Tyler. He’s there with you. How is that going?”
So very good and so very bad, I think, but what I say is, “It isn’t yet. We haven’t met with anyone. What do you think? Do we meet with both studios?”
“If you can get me a written document this morning, let’s say adios to the new studio head and his dickhead attitude. After all, I do have a wedding to plan.”
And so does Tyler, I think bitterly. “You do,” I say. “Let’s make all of this happen. Stay close to your phone. I’ll need you to sign a document.”
“I’ll be around. Knock ‘em dead, sis.” He disconnects.
I shift toward Tyler. “The studio head he previously disliked called and offered him everything and the book, including more money, as long as we sign a letting of intent today.”
“And he wants to take it?”
“He does. He seemed ready to make this happen. And the studio head is coming here. I need to text him a time. Do you want to do it in the suite at the table?”
Tyler leans across me and grabs the hotel phone from the nightstand. “I’ll see if the hotel has a conference room we can use.” He glances at his watch. “Tell him ten. It’s seven now. In light of this new development, we need plenty of time to grab a bite and talk through our strategy.”
“Agreed,” I say and he makes the call, securing a conference room. With location and time in mind, I text the studio head, who confirms and agrees with the plan almost instantly. I set my phone down on the nightstand. “We’re all set.”
“I need to go grab my suitcases. Can you order us a carafe of coffee?”
“Of course,” I say, but when he would move away, I catch his arm, halting his departure. “Tyler, I think we can go home tonight.”
“We’re going home Monday, baby. Unless you object, I’m keeping you for me this weekend.”
Yes,please, I think, but I’m also not thinking logically. I’m fairly ready to admit most things I do with Tyler are a combination of hormones and emotions. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“Hell, yes, I do,” he assures me. “I want to stay the weekend. Do you?”
“I do, I just—”
He leans over and kisses me. “Then we’re staying.”
“But we fly home commercial,” I counter. “When we head home, I need to just slip back into boss and employee mode. I just…I do.”
“Okay. If I get you for the weekend, we’ll keep our commercial flights home. Coffee, woman. I need coffee to get my bad cop juices flowing. Be a good cop and order.”
I laugh and watch him pull on his shirt and shoes, and then head for the door. I order the coffee and breathe out. I’m really, really deeply invested emotionally in Tyler.
I am going to hurt when we get home. I’m going to hurt when I see the show with his new fiancée. I might have to leave the company. I don’t know if I’ll have a choice.
Chapter Forty-Five
Bella
Tyler and I shower together, and I finish what I started last night on my knees, with him against the wall and his fingers twined in my hair. When it’s over, he returns the favor, and leaves me trembling, my knees weak.
“You are better than any fantasy, baby,” he tells me, kissing me all slow and sultry before we slip out of the now-cold water.
Fantasy.
I plant that word in my mind with a purpose. All of this is between me and him, is that and nothing more. I vow to spend the weekend enjoying the fantasy, and living in the moment, not my dread of what happens when we go home. Once we’ve dried off, our meeting time is creeping up on us and we quickly dress. In LA, business attire is on the casual side, and I opt for a sleeveless, emerald, form-fitting dress, with black heels.
Tyler dresses in a fitted, expensive gray suit that fits every defined muscle of his body to perfection. I don’t miss that he has an extra edge of arrogance this morning, and I wonder if he packs a bit in a pocket to pull out when meeting with a possible opponent, as is the studio head. But I like this no-nonsense, make money and success, and take no names, Tyler. But he reminds me of all that awaits back home, just by existing. A realization I shake off. Right now is about Dash and his deal and nothing more.
Tyler’s cellphone rings and he grabs it from the bathroom counter, where he’s been tending his tie. “It’s the hotel,” he announces and then answers, “Tyler Hawk,” and listens a moment, before he says, “We’re on our way.” He disconnects.“The conference room is ready. They’ll bring him to us when he arrives. Ready, baby?”
The endearment does funny things to my insides and feels weird while we’re in business mode, but I still like it. How can Inotlike it? “Let’s go make this happen for my brother,” I say.
