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Rose steeples her fingers and sighs. “Look, Gabe. You’re a big name in this industry, but Celia Foley knows people—why the hell do you think we agreed to her plan for this fake dating business? There were other ways to give you an edge.”
“She’s a TV chef—what could she possibly do to me?”
Rose laughs. “She might live in one corner of the pool, but you’d better believe a shark can swim wherever the fuck she wants. I don’t know if she can effectively kill your career, but she knows enough people to make it challenging for you to get the roles you want if she decides she wants to get involved.”
I cross my arms. “If her aunt could do that to me, why can’t she get Ashley on a movie or TV show?”
Rose shrugs. “Family can be complicated, and it’s easier to torpedo a career than build one. But if you go pointing fingers at Ashley, Celia might come for you and that’s a battle I can’t win.”
“Who would win in a fight?” David asks suddenly. “Michael Sinclair or Celia Foley?”
The question barely earns a moment of consideration. “Celia,” Rose and Emma say in unison.
David crosses something out in his notebook and stands. “We done?”
“Gabe?” Emma glances at me.
I nod, staring into space as everyone packs up their stuff. I manage to rouse myself enough to walk them to the door. Rose, last out, turns to me.
“This thing with Ashley is complicated, but you’ve handled it badly since the beginning. Let me handle it, okay? Don’t reach out to her. If she tries to reach out to you, call me. This might feel like rock bottom, but trust me, if she wants to nuke you, she can make things a lot worse.”
Things get worse the next day.
Spurned Ex Ashley Foley’s Revenge?
“Sources close to Gabriel Sinclair say the actor believes Ashley Foley, his ex-girlfriend, is behind the salacious rumors about his past.”
“Did you do this?” Rose demands when I finally call her back after my worst day on set ever. She gives me no time to deny it. “Are you fucking kidding me? You were supposed to stick to the plan. If you can’t follow my instructions, Gabe, I’m out. I’m not going to war with Celia Foley for you.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and lean against the kitchen counter. I’ve had a hell of a headache all day and now that I’m in my apartment, I want to be left alone. “David and I talked about it on set. Someone must have overheard and fed it to the press.” I don’t tell her I said it loudly so people would hear. Why stop lying now?
There’s a long pause. When she speaks, her voice is flat. “You two talked about this on set?”
I grit my teeth. “In hindsight, that was a mistake.”
“No shit.”
I promise to follow her instructions from now until the end of time and make a note to have David send her some expensive wine.
I’m about to take tomorrow’s script to the office when there’s a knock at the door. I’m not expecting anyone, David has a key, and it’s late. A photographer could have slipped past the concierge. I should ignore it.
I don’t, because I’m itching for something. A fight, I don’t know. Something.
The first thing I notice is Ashley’s light brown eyes, red-rimmed but dry. Her face is bare of everything except emotion. No lipstick, no smoky eye. The foot she sticks in the door, preventing me from closing it, is wearing a flip-flop and she’s in a slouchy shirt that leaves one shoulder exposed. She’s holding a large fruit basket, probably her ticket past the concierge.
“You can’t be here.” My voice sounds too tight and I hate how badly it betrays that she’s wrecked me. I have to remind myself I owe her nothing.
“We can do this in the hall, where your neighbors can hear,” she says softly. “Or inside. Your choice.”
I let her in. She takes a few steps before stopping. A little of her composure crumbles and her chest rises as she takes a deep breath.
My hands clench at my sides. I want to throw that fucking fruit basket across the room and pull her close so I can breathe her in. I want her to tell me this is all a mistake as she wraps her arms around me.
Or maybe I want her to scream at me so I can scream back.
“The second day we were on the road, I texted my assistant, Lea,” Ash finally says, “asking her to dig up anything she could find on you. I needed to know you weren’t the perfect man you show the world. I forgot I asked her. She turned up at my place weeks ago with an entire dossier on you. She’s really good at research.”
I knew it was Ashley, but the confirmation of her betrayal is still a punch to the chest.
