MaleAndroidCompanion (25 page)

When the door closed he was alone. Truly
alone.

* * * * *

Out of breath and blinded by tears, Gia
staggered to a halt before the rushing stream. Frogs croaked nearby, but they
were just white noise. Her head was filled with memories she tried to forget.
Angrily, she swiped at the waterworks that refused to stop flowing down her
cheeks. When nothing slowed them, she raised her face to the gray sky, closed
her eyes and allowed the trickle of cool drops to mingle with her tattered
emotions. Anger, humiliation and grief warred inside her.

She sniffled, attempting to rein in the
tears. Her breakup with Doug or any other man hadn’t left this hollowness, this
wretched pain that burrowed so deep into her bones she wondered if she would
ever be able to shake it.

“Gina?”

Her heart stuttered.

God. Not now.
She couldn’t face Marc. Not in this condition. Slowly she turned
around, but it wasn’t Marc.

An unladylike snort surfaced. Her chin
quivered. “Daddy.”

A troubled expression greeted her as he
opened his arms and she flew into them, nearly knocking him down. He stumbled
but embraced her tightly, securing them both. As she buried her face into her
father’s shoulder, more tears surfaced, falling one right after another.

In the hush of the forest, Gia cried,
allowing her father to comfort her.

For the longest time, no words were
exchanged between them. She continued to weep while he held her like he had
when she was a child. In the protective shelter of her father’s arms, she could
almost believe he could take the pain away—make everything better. But unlike
the many other times he had consoled her, everything would not be okay—not this
time.

Marc had betrayed her.

How much time passed, she didn’t know. The
next thing she realized, her mother had joined them.

“There, there, sweetheart,” her mother
cooed, patting Gia softly on the back. Silence stretched between them until her
mother spoke again. “You love him, don’t you?”

“No.” The blatant lie was muffled against
her father’s shoulder.

Gia knew she wasn’t fooling her parents
when her mother eased her out of her father’s arms. Elaine’s soft hands cupped
Gia’s face, empathy swimming in her mother’s moist eyes.

“Momma.” Gia choked on the endearment.
“Love isn’t supposed to hurt like this.”

“Oh Gina.” A tender chuckle rose. “Loving
someone isn’t easy.” Her mother pulled Gia into her embrace. A pregnant pause
followed before she said, “Honey, I spoke with Marc.”

Oh God, no.

“He appeared genuinely saddened. He said to
tell you he’s sorry and that he loves you.”

The knot in Gia’s stomach twisted another
turn.

“What did the bastard do?” her father
growled.

“Paul.” The censorship in her mother’s tone
quieted Gia’s father.

Easing out of her mother’s arms, Gia
inhaled a shaky breath. “I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to go
home.” She looked from her father to her mother, hoping they would understand.
There was no way she could go about the family and pretend that everything was
all right. “Would you mind too much if I left tonight?”

“Gina, can you forgive him?” her mother
asked.

“No, Mom.” Gia fought for a smile that
didn’t quite make it. “I just want to go home.”

Chapter Twelve

Five weeks had passed since that dreadful
day in Oregon. Gia sat slumped in a chair watching the sets of
Starlight
emerge. Crevices appeared in some of the smaller boulders allowing ferns and
other vegetation to push through their surface. Moss crawled over rocks and
tree trunks as if it was alive, seeking, searching for a place to rest. Night
flowers pushed up through the grass, the feathery petals fluorescing beneath
ultraviolet lighting. The thermostat had been lowered, cooling the air to set
the mood for the next scene as ribbons of fog began to form. Was the scene real
or a three-dimensional hologram?

Dressed in a costume of sheer, iridescent
material clasped at one shoulder by a golden brooch and cut so it flowed
sensually down to her ankles, a shiver assailed her. Rubbing her palms up and
down her naked arms, she released a heavy sigh.

She should be happy, but…

Another deep exhale pushed from her
diaphragm.

Several days after Gia had returned to
Hollywood, she had met with
Starlight
’s producer and her attorney. Doug
wasn’t quite out of the picture yet and it grated on her that he would receive
a percentage of the profits. But her attorney was working on their final
separation.

Gia would give anything not to hire a
personal assistant, but she knew it was impossible. She needed help, even if
she didn’t want it. Later today she and her attorney had several interviews
with potential candidates. This time she would be more particular and make sure
their relationship stayed in the confines of business.

As for Marc—

“Miss Easton?” The soft voice of her makeup
artist caught her attention. Tracy approached with a brush and palette in her
hand. She shifted from one foot to the next, trepidation in her youthful gaze.
“I need to apply a little more makeup beneath your eyes.”

Had Gia been that hard to deal with over
the last couple of weeks, to put the wariness in the young brunette’s eyes?

Did she really have to ask?

Last night after filming, she had overheard
the boom boy whisper something derogatory to one of the cameramen. He used the
words
prima donna
in reference to her, which Gia had never been. Yet
there was no denying she hadn’t been herself since returning to Hollywood.

Still, she couldn’t be that bad—could she?

Tracy lightly dabbed at the dark smudges
and bags that never seemed to go away beneath Gia’s eyes. Sleep had eluded her.
When she did doze off, dreams of Marc haunted her. The thought slid under her
skin, sending a tremor through her.

“Are you finished?” Gia snapped.

Tracy eased back. “I’m sorry, Miss Easton,
but—”

Gia’s eyelids slid closed. “No, Tracy. I’m
sorry. Please continue.”

Okay. Maybe she was as bad as the rumors
suggested.

Clenching her jaw, digging her fingernails
into the armrest, she waited until the woman eased back before she opened her
eyes.

“Thank you.” To Gia’s shame, the flat
expression of appreciation lacked sincerity, but she couldn’t help it.

Tracy’s smile was hesitant at best. Without
a word, she slipped away.

Dammit.
Gia
couldn’t go on like this.

Rotating her head side to side, she
listened to muscles and tendons pop. She was so keyed up, she worried whether
she could make it through the next scene without blowing it—all because of a man.

A man whose memory continued to haunt her.

Dismayed, she shook her head, but squared
her shoulders and sat up straight, composing herself. She had no one to blame
but herself. It had been her decision not to be notified if Marc called or
arrived outside her home or studio. The truth is she couldn’t bear the thought
that he wouldn’t attempt to contact her. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt
her, except it did hurt like hell.

Talk about cutting off your nose to spite
your face.

Gia should have known better than to act
out of anger only to risk damaging herself more than the source of her pain.
Within the span of five weeks, everything had changed. She couldn’t sleep,
she’d lost ten pounds and she’d evolved into a raving bitch, both at work and
at home.

“Gia, are you ready?”

Jerked from her wonderings, she glanced up
at Thomas Solar. The most sought-out producer in the United States had asked
for her as his leading lady in this production. She should be thrilled, but she
couldn’t muster the enthusiasm.

Funny how the excitement had dimmed from
when Doug first delivered the news until now.
Starlight
was just another
movie and she was just another actress in the long list in Hollywood and New
York.

Tom extended her his large hand. “Luv, is
something wrong?” His English accent and charming good looks did nothing for
her. Nonchalantly, she scanned his broad forehead and the curlicue of dark hair
that graced it. There was really nothing special about him, except that he held
her career in his palm. A puppet master. He pulled the strings and she danced
to his tune.

What a life.

Without hesitating, she took his hand and
allowed him to assist her to her feet. What she hadn’t expected was to end up
chest to chest, hips to hips with the man, looking up into his lustful brown
eyes.

“Dinner tonight.” The thickness in his
brogue revealed he was looking for more than a dinner partner tonight.

Are you kidding?

Gia barely kept the words contained as she
slid out of his embrace. This was not what she needed, another man from Tinseltown
knocking at her door. Her life was already a mess, her emotions a disarray,
walking the thin line between love and hate.

Managing a small smile, she stepped back.
“Dinner?” She paused, allowing sufficient time to pass to give him the
impression she was actually considering his offer. Gia wasn’t a fool. Offend
the producer and she was asking for more trouble than it was worth.

“Oh!” Feigned disappointment raised her
perfectly sculpted brows. “I’m so sorry. I have a meeting with my attorney
tonight.”

Tom stepped closer, forcing her to take one
backward. “Can’t you get out of it?”

She placed a palm on his muscled chest.
“Wasn’t it you who insisted that I find an assistant as quickly as possible?”
Gia tossed his own words back at him.

“Maybe another time—another night.” His
invitation hung between them like a sensual trap she wasn’t willing to get
snared in.

Still, she couldn’t outright turn him away.
“Maybe.” It was the best she had to offer.

Pulling back her hand as he attempted to
grasp it, she rushed off before anything else could transpire between them. She
needed to focus on the upcoming scene. Her character was a fairy queen longing
for love lost. The dramatic irony hit so close to home, sadly it would make it
all too easy for Gia to relate to.

At the border of the stage, she stopped and
took a breath, finding the similarities within her that aligned with her
lonely, tortured character. Both of them had tasted love, betrayal and loss,
but in Crytaline’s case she would rediscover the man of her heart—Gia would
not.

Happy-ever-after endings weren’t for
everyone, especially her.

In the background, she heard chatting,
cameras shifting, people taking their seats, and then quiet surrounded her.

When the director yelled, “Action!” she
raised a slippered foot and entered the set.

White filmy fog swirled around her knees.
The long gown she wore slid like silk, soft and sensual across her skin, to
brush the ground. Artificial moonlight made the material shimmer with the soft
colors of the rainbow. Head down, she allowed the heaviness in her heart to
sink to her feet, making each step appear weighted, difficult. Sorrow reached
up and pulled her deeper and deeper into character.

When Gia reached the agreed upon mark in
the choreography, her shoulders fell. Slowly she raised her face to the dark
sky and the single star that glowed brightly.

Marc.
Light
and airy, his name whispered in her mind, causing the muscles in her face to
harden to stone. For a brief moment, she stood as still as a statue. Her pulse
beat a frantic rhythm, pounding in her ears, while the emotion in her chest
became thick and daunting. The brittle composure she held crumbled on a
strangled gasp that parted her trembling lips and made her chin quiver. Pain
and suffering roared up inside her, building at an alarming speed. Tears sprang
from her broken heart, blooming in her eyes before silently rolling down her
cheeks.

Gia remained unmoving, shadowed in the glow
of that one star that represented hopes and dreams—impossible to reach—her own
will-o’-the-wisp.

When the director yelled, “Cut,” her tears
began to fall like raindrops.

Blinking, she tried to stop them, but it
was no use. Not even the clapping and praise slowed them. It felt as if a
boulder sat on her chest, making it difficult to breathe. People crowded around
her, congratulating her on her performance, but she couldn’t break the link
between her and her character.

“Excuse me.” Gia weaved in and out of the
throng, hurrying off set, heading toward her dressing room. Breathless, she
pushed open her door and bent at the waist, attempting to calm herself.

It took a moment to regain her composure,
and when she did, the first thing to penetrate her senses was the strong scent
of roses. The flowery aroma made her head rise. She straightened to her full
height, staring through a veil of tears.