Let's Misbehave (18 page)

In the meantime, she’d benefit from him letting his tiger come out to play. She grinned. Maybe she’d ask him to play tonight.

A camera shutter snapped.

She looked up at her sister, who shrugged. “It was a good shot,” Titania said. She took a few more snapshots. “When are you going to come over?”

“Come over for what?”

“Are you daft? So I can take your pictures.”

An idea popped into her head, and Gigi couldn’t help smiling wickedly. “You go to your subject’s homes to photograph them.”

“Yes. So?”

“So my home is on South Street.”

Titania’s eyes narrowed. “You’re evil.”

She grinned. “I don’t think I can be faulted for feeling a little gleeful to force you to come home.”

Titania pushed her chair back and stood. “You used to be my favorite sister.”

“Because you don’t know any of our other sisters,” Gigi called after her. She smiled and whispered to herself, “And I’d be so happy if you found another sister to love, too.”

Left with the check, like usual, Gigi paid and left.

There was a break in the rain, so she decided to walk home. She was just about to the house when she heard Dirk’s voice.

“Gigi!”

She turned and saw him jogging toward her. She waited for the feelings of anger and betrayal to rise up, but she only felt done, like that chapter was over and he was just someone she shared something with a while ago.

She also felt longing—for Merrick. Seeing Dirk made her wish it was Merrick running toward her.

Hope was a terrible thing, she decided, as she took out her mobile.
I’m coming over tonight
, she texted him.

His reply was instant.
Good
.

Smiling, she turned toward her home but ran into a broad chest blocking her way.

She sighed and instantly regretted it when Dirk’s thick cologne choked her. She stepped back out of the miasma of scent. “Dirk, you’re wasting your time.”

“Am I, Gigi?” He reached out to her.

“Don’t call me Gigi.” She evaded his hands. “Only loved ones have that privilege, and you are definitely not a loved one.”

“I want to be,” he implored with the puppy dog eyes he used in all his roles. “Please, Gigi, just one chance to make it all up to you.”

“And how do you propose to do that?” she asked incredulously. “Do you have a time machine? You plastered the world with my most private possession. You’re strangling my career with your selfishness.”

“I know.” He nodded. “I had a gift and I didn’t realize it.”

She frowned. “Are you repeating lines?”

“Of course I’m not,” he stuttered, flushing.

“I find that hard to believe.” She began to walk again. “Go away. I don’t want to be seen with you.”

“Ah, Gigi, that’s harsh,” he said plaintively. He hurried in front of her, cutting off her exit. “Wait.”

She stared at him.

He flushed. “Okay, I didn’t think it’d hurt you. It boosted my career.”

“Because you’re a man. When a man has sex he’s a god. When a woman has sex, she’s a harlot.”

He shrugged helplessly. “People must like watching harlots, because your last movie is doing great at the box office.”

“You wanker.” She hit him in the arm. “I may let Bea at you after all.”

She began to walk around him but he grabbed her hand. “Just let me make it up to you, Gi—”

She gave him a death glare.

“Imogen,” he amended. “Please. I’ll feel better if I can do something.”

“Don’t do me any favors.”

“Go with me to the wrap party for
Mindless Pursuits
tonight. A lot of players are going to be there, and maybe if people see we’re friendly they’ll forget the video.”

She arched her brow. “You really think they’ll forget?”

“Why not?”

“You’re an idiot.” She was about to try to escape again when a thought struck. Her eyes narrowed. “Who’s attending this party?”

He shrugged. “A bunch of people.”

“Russell Sherman?”

“Hold on.” He pulled out his mobile and stepped to the side. After a short muted conversation he came back. “He’s on the guest list and is expected.”

She’d made plans with Merrick already. She twirled a strand of hair around her finger, thinking. She hadn’t said what time she’d meet him. Maybe she could tell him it’d be late.

She really didn’t want to spend time with Dirk, and she didn’t want him to do her any favors.

But this was important. Beatrice would tell her not to let her ego get in the way. Besides, at a party she wouldn’t have to be at his side.

As if sensing her waffling, Dirk said, “It’s just cocktails. No strings.”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch.” He lifted his hands. “Just because I love you and hate the animosity between us.”

She rolled her eyes. “The only person you love is yourself.”

“Yeah, but you’re a close second,” he said with a grin.

Most people would have figured he was joking, but Gigi knew better.

“Come on, Imogen. Just go with me.”

He was right, damn it. She frowned. “Fine, but if you touch me, I’ll stab you with a dull pen.”

He laughed. “Fair warning.”

“Excuse me,” she said, stepping away. She pulled out her mobile and texted Merrick.
I can’t make it tonight
.

He replied quickly.
Another time then
.

She frowned at his answer. Wouldn’t he miss her? She’d miss him.

“Gi—Imogen?” Dirk smiled eagerly. “Want the address?”

“Yes.” She pushed thoughts of Merrick aside. She needed to concentrate on her career tonight. Tomorrow there’d be time for love.

***

A taxi waited for her outside. Making sure she had her phone and money, Gigi hurried downstairs.

Her mother met her halfway up the stairs, the leather journal she carried with her lately in her hand. “You look lovely,” Jacqueline said, stepping aside to let Gigi pass. “Are you going out?”

“Yes. To an industry party.”

Her mother’s smile dimmed. “Oh.”

Pausing, Gigi looked over her shoulder. “What does that mean?”

“I’d just hoped you were doing something fun for a change, or that you were going on a date.”

She bit the inside of her lip, careful not to get lipstick on her teeth. She thought about Merrick and how much more fun it’d be misbehave with him instead of going to this party.

But her career came first. She needed to focus on convincing Sherman she was his Ophelia. So lightly, she said, “I’ll work on it,” as she waved and continued on her way.

She arrived fashionably late at the address Dirk had given her. It was a posh lounge, closed to the public this evening. She gave the doorman her name, surprised she was actually on the guest list.

Dirk wanted something from her. She swept her wrap off her shoulders and went to check it in, wondering what that might be. Frankly, she didn’t care as long as she had the chance to confront Sherman.

There were a lot of people milling around. Arriving a little late meant there was enough people to camouflage her if she wanted. She wrangled herself a glass of champagne and then stopped to say hello to the host, whom she’d worked with once.

Smiling, she turned around and came face to face with Delilah Jones.

“Delilah.” Her smiled faded, but she sipped her drink to hide her displeasure. “I didn’t realize you’d be here.”

“I was about to say the same thing.” Delilah flashed her barracuda smile. “You must be stalking Russell.”

The proprietary way the other actress said his name put Gigi’s teeth on edge, but she bared her teeth right back. “Hardly. I just talked to Russell on the phone.”

“You’re wasting your time.” Delilah barked a laugh. “Ophelia is mine. Russell and his backers think you’re a liability.”

“Because you’ve told them so, of course.”

“Of course, darling.” The woman gave her a toothy grin. Then her face went dark, and she leaned in to hiss. “You may have stolen a part from me once upon a time, but I’m not going to let it happen again, Imogen. So just back off.”

Gigi sighed. “Delilah, can’t we just let this all go? How long can you possibly hold a grudge? It’s just business.”

“The hell it is. There’s
nothing
more personal.” Delilah glared at her like she was imagining eviscerating her. Then, just as instantly, her face cleared. “Here comes your boyfriend. I’ll leave you two alone. Ta-ta, darling.”

Gigi stared after the woman, wondering if she needed Beatrice’s hitman or a doctor to prescribe Delilah better medication.

“You look like you’re going to stomp on someone with your killer heels,” Dirk said with a charming smile. He leaned to kiss her.

She backed away, horrified. Pointing a finger at him, she said, “No.”

He pouted. “I’m not a dog.”

“That’s a matter of opinion.”

“You should be nice to me,” he said. “I just saw Russell Sherman and put in a word for you.”

She shuddered, thinking of what he might have said. “Please don’t do me any more favors.”

“Maybe you could do me a favor?” he asked with a plaintive look.

“What?” she asked, suspicious.

He leaned in and lowered his voice. “My last movie didn’t do well with the test groups. It was the director’s fault. He wouldn’t let us interpret our characters in our own way.”

“Wasn’t the director Ron Howard?” she interrupted. She had great respect for Howard’s vision.

“Yes.” He frowned. “I just need you to tell a couple people here what a great actor I am and that Ron Howard is full of shit.”

“What happened to no strings attached?” she asked, hands on her hips.

Dirk shook his head. “This isn’t a string.”

She sipped her drink and stared at the man she’d spent a year with. What had she been thinking?

Turning around, she sauntered away, knowing he wouldn’t cause a scene in front of all these industry people.

Across the room, she saw Russell Sherman and someone who was obviously a moneyman.
Finally
. Making a detour, Gigi headed for them.

“Imogen Summerhill.”

Stopping, she came face to face with Marcus Craig.

She’d never met the man. In person, he didn’t look anything like he did in his pictures. He was short and portly with a kind face. Intelligence poured through his gaze, and he looked her right in the eye, respectfully, rather than leering at her the way a lot of men in the film industry did.

“Marcus Craig.” Smiling, she extended her hand.

“I apologize for accosting you like this, but I just wanted to say one thing.” He looked at her shrewdly. “I know the studio is pushing you to star in my movie, and I realize my last couple films don’t speak well for me.”

She shook her head. “I—”

“No, let me finish,” he interrupted. He took a deep breath. “I know that an actress of your caliber would run in the opposite direction if I came at her. But I have a vision for this remake. I want to do something meaningful, and Cole Porter has a special place in my heart. You’re the perfect actor to help me realize my vision.” He shrugged. “I just wanted to assure you that there won’t be any animal costumes in the making of the movie.”

“And sex scenes?”

He recoiled. “You’ve got to be kidding. I want to resurrect my image, not kill it with a skin flick.”

She laughed. “We’re in the same boat, then.”

Craig smiled. “I knew you’d understand.”

“I’ll look at the script,” she said, surprising both of them. She held her hands up. “I can’t promise anything.”

“I wouldn’t want you to. I want you to go with your gut. You have good instincts.” Craig grinned at her. “But I bet your gut’s going to tell you to go for it.”

She watched him walk away, laughing under her breath when she saw him make a discreet fist pump in the air. Shaking her head, amused, she turned to find Sherman.

He was gone, no sign of him anywhere. After an hour of searching, Gigi gave up and decided to go home before Dirk tempted her into violence.

Chapter Eighteen

Merrick prowled through Portcullis House, to his office. Everyone skittered out of his way, which was perfectly acceptable today with his foul mood.

He blamed it on the gnome, whose knowing leer was driving him insane. The problem was he couldn’t toss the little bugger out. He’d tried a couple times, and he hadn’t been able to do it.

Ridiculous. If that wasn’t sign enough that he’d lost his mind, he didn’t know what was.

Imogen might have played a small part in his madness, too.

He growled, startling a passing aide. He turned to apologize to her, but he must have looked fiercer than he realized because she practically ran down the hall.

His bill—Michaela’s safety act—was unraveling before his eyes. He’d lost opportunities to make inroads with members of the conservative party. He’d missed meetings and stood people up. It reflected poorly on him and the bill.

And all he could think about was that Imogen canceled on him last night.

What had she been doing?

“What difference does it make?” he muttered to himself, as he rounded the corner to his office.

All the difference in the world, and he knew it.

He’d spent the entire morning scanning all the tabloids and society pages for a clue to her whereabouts, dreading to see her picture with another man, hoping to get one glimpse of her beautiful face.

He’d become a tabloid reader. Gigi had made him a tabloid reader.

He knew he should have just called her. He should have told her how much he craved her—both her body and her mind. He missed her, damn it, even if it hadn’t been long since he’d seen her.

Instead, he was stalking her. It was beyond pathetic.

His secretary rose from her desk as he approached. Her fingers fidgeted with a button on her sweater, and she looked like she wanted to be anywhere but there. “Sir? Is everything okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” he said, being careful to modulate his tone.

She cleared her throat. “Well, you’ve missed a couple important meetings of late. It’s not like you, sir.”

It wasn’t, but he didn’t need her to point it out to him.

She backed away slowly, as though she’d suddenly realized she was in a cage with a wild animal.