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“Very nice,” she says without breaking eye contact. Her eyes are blue, however, washed out, almost gray looking. “Has Morgan been kind enough to show you around, offered you a drink?”
“Actually, she just arrived, but I’m fine, thank you.” I smile politely.
“Well, then please, let me give you the grand tour.” She motions for the housekeeper. “Esmerelda, please bring drinks out to the back patio.”
I follow her lead as she shows me around the house, giving me a tour of each room, what they represent in her life, along with the artwork. The house is even grander than it appears on the outside. Each room large and filled with plenty of furniture and art pieces. She conveniently shows me her master suite, something I normally would have welcomed. Especially when she eye-fucks me, describing how her bed was made by some new designer and has all these fancy things it can do.
I keep quiet and pretend not to notice the silver pole at the entrance of her closet. Okay, maybe there’s been a pick up in the pace of the stirring. She must detect my curiosity too, and she’s quick to mention she installed it after playing a stripper in a movie. I’m well aware of that movie. What fucking guy isn’t? I have to admit, she’s charming, and you can’t help but fall in love with her, figuratively.
She ushers us to the patio where Morgan takes a seat beside her. She’s awfully quiet, not saying much as Scarlett talks on and on about the movie she’s shooting.
“You’re very busy, Miss Winters. Hard to get a hold of,” I tell her.
“Please, call me Scarlett,” she responds with a twinkle in her eye. “Sadly, I’m not home as much as I’d like to be. Aside from the hectic filming schedule, there’s constant photoshoots and endorsements. Now this book. I don’t know where I’d be without Morgan in my life.”
There’s a sense of admiration in her voice for Morgan. Surprising me, I had expected a diva-like movie star that bossed her assistant around and demanded unreasonable things.
“I’m sure you’ll manage fine, Scarlett,” Morgan adds with a thankful smile.
“Please, half the time I have no idea what day it is,” she says with a slight chuckle. “I just roll with the punches. One minute you’re hot, and the next minute you’re not. That’s the business we call show.”
I laugh. “Something tells me you’re always hot, Scarlett. At least, that’s what the media seems to portray.”
“I’d say don’t believe everything you read. But sometimes, more often so, they’re spot on. Though my love life seems to be their weakness. Any man I’m seen with is apparently in my bed as well,” she tells me. “Did you hear the latest? I’m apparently carrying George Clooney’s baby. It’s the price I pay for eating that burrito during a work lunch. Bloated stomach and work colleague equals pregnant homewrecker.”
“Scarlett, you know it’s rubbish and they will do anything to sell those magazines,” Morgan scolds her.
I’m surprised at the tone Morgan takes with Scarlett, almost berating her. Equally surprised that Scarlett brushes it off like nothing.
“Please excuse, Vee. She’s always at the press for spinning lies. Ever since I can remember, she’s fought hard for me.”
“That’s a good friend you have by your side,” I mention, then pause, confused. “You called her Vee? Is that some sort of nickname?”
Morgan stiffens, and Scarlett doesn’t change her carefree sing-song attitude. “It’s just a nicknam
e. Her name is really Violet. Beautiful, isn’t it? I don’t know why you want people to call you by your middle name.”
Violet. I’ve heard that name before—Violet Winters.
The wine I’d just swallowed lodges in my throat, creating a gurgling sound. “Your sister?”
Scarlett looks from me to Morgan, surprised by my forward comment. “You didn’t tell him?”
“It wasn’t something he needed to know,” Morgan answers in a stiff tone.
What the fuck? Of course, I should have known that. All this time she was hiding the fact she’s Scarlett’s sister? What else is she hiding? God, here I am, pining for Scarlett, looking like a goddamn fool. No wonder Morgan’s defensive around me. She was—and still is—protecting her sister.
One of the ladies who had followed Scarlett in interrupts our conversation and requests Scarlett take a call, leaving Morgan and me alone. The second the patio door closes, my body turns like a possessed man, demanding answers. “Why would you keep that a secret from me?” I grit, clenching my jaw to curb the growing anger inside me.
She brushes a speck of dust from her black dress, answering in an artic tone, “You didn’t ask.”
“I didn’t ask because it never occurred to me,” I almost yell.
“Well, it’s not a big deal. So, I’m her sister.”
I stand, frustrated. Again, running my hands through my hair like a crazed lunatic. “I don’t get you, Morgan.”
“Noah, you don’t need to get me. You don’t need to even think about me, okay?”
