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Megan outlined the changes she’d made to her social media accounts. “She’s pretty happy.”
“You’re up to five hundred thousand followers and a million views on your last video,” Cassidy said, holding up her phone. “She’d better be happy. You’re doing her job. Raising your brand without her.”
“Then I’m doing it wrong,” Megan said stubbornly. “I want to help other people, not myself. Make them the spotlight.”
“In this business,” Cassidy said, “you don’t get to do one without the other. It’s okay.” She reached out to shake Megan’s leg. “You’re doing everything right. I’d hire you in a second to figure out my wardrobe, for a start.”
“That’s kind of you to say so,” Megan said.
“Ha! Don’t say it until you see the state it’s in. Rooms of crap I haven’t worn for a decade.”
“Donated by fashion houses?”
“Yep. Or bought by me and stupidly not worn.”
“Aren’t there places you can donate clothes like that?”
“You can, but last time I looked, they didn’t want my donations. You’re talking about the practical clothes, the ones women coming out of homelessness and jail need. A size-two Hollywood maven doesn’t have the right clothes for them.”
Megan’s fingers were tapping on her thigh. Alessandro could feel the plans rolling around in her mind. “So they need someone to donate the clothes and someone to help the women wear them. Right?”
“I guess so.” Cassidy leaned back in her chaise and assumed the sunbathing position again. “Sounds like you should call someone about that.”
Megan turned to Alessandro. “You think that would work?”
Turning to him for advice? Could she see him swell with pride? “I think if you start it, it will one hundred percent work.”
Megan took her phone from the table next to her and walked over to the shade. Alessandro watched her type and scroll furiously for a minute or two before he dragged his eyes away.
“Do not,” Cassidy said, her eyes still closed, “let that woman become bored.”
A shot of fear ran through him. What could an upstart actor like him offer a woman like Megan? How would he keep her interested when he had to leave for months at a time to film movies?
He wouldn’t even be able to ply her with coffee.
♦
Chapter 22
Yasmin didn’t call them anymore. They had scheduled Zoom calls, and she and Megan had finally had that lunch, but otherwise, she had silently approved Megan and Alessandro to keep on doing what they did without micromanagement from their management.
So when Alessandro’s phone rang one morning two weeks before the Oscars, he met Megan’s eyes with surprise. “What did we do?” Megan asked at once.
He laughed, but he had the same question. Megan’s outreach to designers and shelters was moving along exactly as she wanted—in a few more days, she was going to rent warehouse space to store the promised donations. They’d only been photographed at scheduled events or “candid” shopping trips. Alessandro had changed his social media to let his fans in on his—carefully curated—private life, talking about the Studio and local stores and restaurants he loved. And of course, he’d included photos of himself and Megan, every one of which immediately flew around the world. He surprised himself by how natural he looked in them, how easy it was to ignore the cameras and smile at Megan, to show his affections with a quick kiss to the shoulder or smoothing her hair out of her eyes. The gossip sites sighed and cooed, and while some questioned their connection after Nikki, for the rest—for Alessandro himself—their love story was out there for all the world to see. And the world was seeing it.
“Only one way to find out,” he said. “Buongiorno, Yasmin.”
“Buongiorno yourself. Lily Liebowitz wants to interview you. Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes. Don’t worry, not at your house,” Yasmin said as Megan’s eyebrows went up. “We’ve booked you into The Rosette’s presidential suite.”
“I—” This was impossible. “They can’t mean tomorrow.”Lily Liebowitzwas the number one Sunday night talk show in the country. People stopped watchingGame of Thronesto see what she could get out of her guests. And get something she always did. As much as Alessandro knew no one was going into these interviews blind, he had to wonder at the shock on celebrities’ faces when she went into some subject they had apparently kept off-limits until now.
And shit, did Alessandro have off-limits subjects. Several of them, now, he thought, mouthing “Lily Liebowitz” and watching Megan choke on her coffee.
“We’ll handle it,” Yasmin said. “They get a list of questions, same as everyone.”
