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I smirk at the word “notorious” as I scan the rest of the article. It discusses how the last movie I made was over five years ago and I might be working with my best friend and acclaimed director, Nolan Archer. They mention this new role is my comeback to Hollywood.
At least they use the word “rumored” in the title. None of the sources confirm my involvement in the movie. Still, this was supposed to be a well-kept secret. Nolan has a mole in his midst.
Then they mention her, and the accident in London. I close the article and run a hand over my mouth. Why must the past always be a part of every article written about me?
I can’t sit in the dark with my memories. It never leads to anything good. Instead, I shift my thoughts to the girl from the elevator.
Who is she? I’m definitely going to find out. I need to know who has captured my attention for the first time in years.
A knock on my door interrupts my thoughts. I look down at my stained underwear and decide whether it’s a good idea to answer the door. Maybe it’s housekeeping.
I figure what the hell, and head toward the door. Opening it just enough to see who is waiting, I’m surprised to see Nolan pacing in the hallway.
“Good, you’re here.” He pushes his way into my room as he checks me out from head to toe and winces. “Really, dude?”
“What?”
“Are you so hard up for pussy that you need to use your hand?”
I scowl. “I don’t have a problem getting women.”
He looks around my suite and heads right to the wet bar, reaching for the bottle of Jack Daniels.
“Are you going to tell me what that was about downstairs?” I ask.
“Nothing but trouble, man,” he mutters as he throws back his drink. “If I were you, I’d stay the hell away.”
“Too late.”
He glances at me sideways. “Explain.”
“The brunette with your girl. Do you know who she is?”
“The new special effects makeup artist. Her name is Ivy.” He chuckles. “You’re going to get to know her really well.”
“That’s the goal, asshole.”
“Then you’d better get your ass down to the bar and mark your territory. I saw her and Jacob Taylor looking pretty cozy, if you know what I mean.”
“Get out,” I growl.
“I have something to talk to you about, Ford.”
“I don’t care. It can fucking wait.”
He sets his glass down on the counter and stares at me for a moment before leaving. Once the door clicks behind him, I throw on a clean pair of jeans and hurry down to the bar.
If Jacob Taylor knows what’s good for him, he’ll stay the fuck away from what’s mine.
