Page 75 of Rise

The same question as yesterday. “I love it,” she said as though she’d never heard it before. “What’s not to love?” And she moved a hair closer to Alessandro. He laughed and looked at her. She raised her eyebrows at him while grinning. She knew how to play this game. He moved his hand more securely around her waist.

“You guys in love?” the voice asked.

Alessandro’s heart somersaulted. The question was bound to come sooner or later, but he’d wanted later. Much later. When he could organize his own feelings for her and convince himself that he didn’t love her more than he loved his own career and he might have to let her leave him one day and—

“Uh-uh-uh,” Megan said, wagging her finger at the pap. Yasmin had done that to him many a time. “Not gonna answer that one. Got your pictures?”

“Okay, okay,” the pap said, while Alessandro marveled at the ease with which she’d stopped the train of conversation. Now he really loved her. “Instead, you got any fashion advice for your fans?”

Megan laughed, a bark of surprise. “Sure. Be comfortable. Be yourself. And be fabulous. And say hi to Yasmin for me.”

And Megan, who’d been in LA for all of forty-eight hours, steered Alessandro out of the line of fire and into the car that waited for them.

♦

Alessandro put his Corona on the teak poolside table and squinted at his partner on the chaise longue next to him. Megan, finally, had a moment to breathe. At least, she had a moment to breathe while he was around. Donna and Yasmin seemed to think that if Alessandro and Megan were going to spend any time together, they should be working. And in the last three weeks, they’d done just that. Almost every evening had been a new event, which was quite the achievement, considering the nominees weren’t allowed to attend parties hosted by studios or other producers.

Megan was lying back, her vintage style navy-and-white bikini showing off all her curves, an enormous pair of sunglasses holding her wet hair off her face. Her eyes were closed, so Alessandro could look at her without her knowing.

“I can feel you watching me,” she said through almost-closed lips.

Oh. So much for stealth. “Admiring you,cara.”

“Admire me another beer, would you?”

“Certo.” He stood and got a wolf whistle for his efforts as he passed her chair. Well, if he was going to be in the gym for five hours a day, he had the right to wear smaller swimming trunks than Americans were used to, didn’t he?

They had come to Cassidy Garfield’s house for the day. Cassidy, who’d been famous longer than Alessandro had been alive, was married to Colson Brewer, the stuntman who’d helped Alessandro through his first action movie. She was fifty-seven; he was thirty-five. The age gap between them had been fodder for all the gossip sites three years ago, but the truth was simple: they loved each other.

Cassidy owned a palace in Malibu, complete with high walls, guest lodges, security cameras, and guards, as well as a team of gardeners who kept everything inside those walls pristine. Her pool was more of a resort, with three diving boards, a separate plunge pool, and a splash and play section for her first grandchild. The pool house contained a full kitchen, three grills, and a chef to make sure everyone was fed and no one had to lift a finger. After the last three weeks of nonstop interviews, photo sessions, and parties, Alessandro understood why Cassidy needed the luxury. He was, as Megan would say, pooped, and while Megan had taken the attention like a champ, he knew she was tired, too.

Thank God Cassidy had taken to Megan as soon as she met her. She’d introduced her to everyone she possibly could, including all the Chrises and both Ryans and their other halves. And those other halves had immediately invited Megan to their houses when Alessandro had been off doing interviews. So in between their own private moments in his backyard, they had a smorgasbord of pools to relax at and people Alessandro was proud to call his friends to impress Megan with.

“Cass,” Megan was saying as he returned to the chaises. “I’ve been looking for something else to do here.”

Cassidy was sitting on Megan’s other side. Her beverage of choice was a white wine sangria. Between the two women sat a plate of precisely chopped up fruits and vegetables with a spicy fruit salsa.

“I recommend turning onto your front,” Cassidy said in a tone like a cat’s stretch. “Get that East Coast pallor off you.”

Megan laughed and thanked Alessandro for the drink he handed her. He sat on his chaise and faced the two of them. When he hadn’t been able to take Megan with him to events, she’d been working via email and Zoom with the Studio and several other charities in Boston, improving their social media presence. When he was very lucky, he got to sit on the couch and listen while she talked to her clients. He loved how much she loved this.

Then there was her own social media profile. Her quote from lunch that day had gone viral, along with every outfit she’d ever worn in front of a camera. Megan was always ready. She and Alessandro could only be walking down the street with a cup of coffee, but she treated the photographers with respect, allowed the scrutiny, talked about her designers, and gave more matter-of-fact truths about feeling good and looking good.

This couldn’t last. Even someone as comfortable with her style as Megan was going to get sick of the interruptions one of these days. And wasn’t she supposed to go back to Fielding Paper? Alessandro hadn’t dared to broach either subject or plan for the future. They often talked late into the night, but their conversations were more about their childhoods. By eavesdropping on this conversation, he might get a better clue of what would make her happy.

“Okay, but after that,” she answered Cassidy. “When ’Sandro is off interviewing and lunching, I’ve been touching base with some of the groups who asked me for help with their websites after the Studio fundraiser. I can do that stuff in my sleep. I think there’s more I can do.”

Cassidy turned onto her side and put her hand under her cheek. “I’ve been wondering when you were going to ask me. All that ‘fashion advice’ you’ve been handing out every time you get interviewed.”

Megan’s cheeks went pink. “Not just fashion advice,” Alessandro protested. “She is turning the conversation around on self-esteem and actresses.”

“Yeah”—Megan laughed—“because I showed half an inch of fat under my blouse at the Ravello Awards.”

“No, no, no,” Cassidy said before Alessandro could. “Well, yes. But you already know that was part of your thing, right? Comfort, being natural, and what was the other one?”

Megan was blushing hard now. “I mean it, though.”

“I know you do. What has your manager said?”

Source: www.allfreenovel.com