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It’s the niggling feeling that my success has nothing to do with what I’ve done in the last fifteen months, but who I've done it to. Jackson Matthews is Krystal Valentina’s stepfather. And the woman behind Krystal, Ashleigh Jordan, was my fiancée… until I caught her smooching another guy at the event where we were announcing our engagement.
Hence, the photographs…and the nonstop barrage of attention I’ve sent to my media shy ex-fiancée.
She hates the paparazzi, and I’ve ensured they’re wherever she goes. Who said it was just women scorned who hell hath no fury for?
But I couldn't turn down Jackson when he'd approached Candice directly. Not when he’d handed her struggling company everything it needed to keep its one and only magazine cable show from the brink of next seasons cull; its most popular reporter on network television five nights a week.
The contracts were signed. The promos had been filmed, and Jackson Matthew's was making the official announcement live on air tonight at the end of The Baker's Dozen reunion special. Where, said ex-fiancée and movie star she ran off with began their careers.
“And to all of you!” I shove the raising resentment back down into that little box buried deep inside that’s labeled stupid things done for love and lift my glass toward the ceiling again. “Who’ll still be producing it.”
Another cheer lifts the roof, but this time their eyes are no longer on me. They’re on each other and the excited conversations begin.
“Well done, Sean.” The sexy purr drags my attention toward Candice. She’s no longer my boss. She turns our backs to the group, morphs into Candi, the playful party goer. She taps her champagne flute with mine, flutters her long dark lashes and purrs again, “I'd love to know who your source is on the Valentina-Ramirez romance.”
Oh, I bet she would. But teaming up with the woman Ramirez left at the altar eight years ago is a secret I’ll take to the grave. Revenge didn’t come much colder than a sister betrayed by her twin, and the truth wasn’t my dish to serve.
I lift my glass with a knowing smile. I’ll never tell the queen of a struggling gossip empire I’ve known Krystal Valentina for sixteen years, or that the crazy haired, colored contact lens wearing siren is an act. Or that the woman behind the persona, the real Ashleigh Jordan, is far more down to earth than anyone knows.
I’ll never tell Candi that Ashleigh is my sister's best friend, or that she saved Julia from incarceration two years ago. Or that before Krystal Valentina was this Academy Award winning global mega star, she was Ashleigh. My Ashleigh. My best friend. She was the third dan judo sensei and a criminal defense attorney, and she could kick ass both in and out of court.
And I’ll certainly never tell Candi that before Krystal flew out to Switzerland to film last Christmas’s big box office smash hit, I’d asked Ashleigh to marry me. She was giving up her career for me. We were going back to New York. My daughter was coming to live with us. We had a future!
I should’ve known better. The fact Krystal Valentina’s a super-bitch is common knowledge. This is the woman who not only stole her sister's character on a soap opera, but also took all her twin’s endorsement contracts. During her twin’s recovery from a suicide attempt. But… the public adored her. She’s drama incarnate and entertaining to watch.
You know exactly where you stand with Krystal Valentina.
Yeah right!
I curl a suggestive index finger in Candi's direction. Her eyelashes flutter over baby blue eyes. She steps into the hairbreadth distance between us, not at all bothered about the employees behind her anymore.
I lean closer. “Who says I have a source?”
The scent of fairground cotton candy engulfs my senses again. But the unanswered questions rise again, the need to find closure refuses to be pushed aside. What happened in Switzerland?
I know Ashleigh. I hate her alter-ego. But I know her inside out. And Ashleigh, my Ashleigh, wouldn’t run off with another man and not attempt to speak to me for months. Now that I’m over the broken heart, I can’t shake the idea that something happened to Ashleigh in Switzerland because, right now, Krystal is her default setting.
But I’d been too angry for too long. I’d lashed out at everyone. No one dares mention her name in my presence anymore. I’d hurt my sister and her husband-to-be, who is one of my closest friends. And I’d put them in an awful position of almost choosing between us. Julia wanted Ashleigh as her Maid of Honor. Darryl wanted me to be his Best Man. But they couldn’t put us in the same room. I’d promised I was over her. Their wedding wouldn’t be ruined by me. Apparently, she’d done the same.
And if that wasn’t a kick in the balls!
Yes, I have regrets about not ending the saga sooner. But I don’t want to talk to the woman floating around LA. She’s not the woman I loved. She’s not even the woman I asked to marry me. I don’t want to talk to Krystal. When Ashleigh decides to make a reappearance then I’ll talk to her.
She’s right there. She’s on the TV. If you just look up...
I even have security clearance for Channel Six Studios and The Jackson Matthews set. What does it matter which prima donna she is? I don’t want the role of her hero anymore!
I should go talk to her.
Yeah right! Ramirez isn’t going to let you anyway near her.
The flash of the potential headlines and the ensuing humiliation should JT Preston and Justin Ramirez brawl, reminds me how desperately I need a distraction.
Now is not the time for closure.
Nothing will affect my sister’s wedding this weekend.
I’ll take Krystal or Ashleigh, or whomever else she wants to be, on another time.
