Two Week Turnaround (7 page)

It wasn't as if he didn't know Arnold Maxx, but then again that might have been the problem. He did know Maxx, maybe a little too well. There was no length the man wouldn't go to to get what he wanted. He made the Godfather look like a shopping mall's Christmas Santa Claus. Isaac would bet money that Maxx's sudden appearance on set had a lot less to do with checking on the film's progress and a lot more to do with the racy photos that had shown up in the tabloids.

Running his hand over his cropped hair, he looked himself over in the mirror again. “Christ,” he spoke to his reflection, “you're turning into a damned teenage girl.”

If he didn't cool it, he was going to find himself checking his texts every other minute and taking dozens of daily selfies. He was a professional, so why was he acting like a mass of hormones?

But as he grabbed his room key, it occurred to him that he already knew the answer.

Chapter Eight

Isaac arrived at the restaurant before the rest of the party. If he kept this shit up he was going to seriously compromise his cool factor. It was the kiss of death for action film stars, and if he wasn't careful, he'd find himself starring as the bumbling dad in the next Disney channel original movie.

A sleek black limo pulled up curbside, causing several people nearby to turn their heads. It was the easiest way to get noticed, which was exactly why Isaac had walked the three blocks to the restaurant. Only one person attending tonight's festivities would opt to arrive with as much glitz and glam as this: Arnold Maxx. And Isaac was betting in this case the apple didn't fall far from the tree. He strode over, beating the limo driver to the back passenger door, and opened it. Leaning down, he glimpsed a pair of long legs that definitely didn't belong to Maxx.

“Beat us here, son!” Maxx greeted him jovially, but the hardened Hollywood producer couldn't quite sell the father-figure act.

Isaac nodded in acknowledgment, but his eyes never left Fia. She wore a white cotton sundress that was much more demure than anything he'd seen her in the past few days. He wasn't the only one playing a part tonight. Apparently Fia was going for devoted daughter with a hint of innocence. Her eyes glinted with a mischievous sparkle as they met his.

It suddenly hit Isaac that tonight wasn't about a simple cast dinner—it was a publicity stunt. Maybe if everyone was going to playing a part tonight it wouldn't be so bad.

But he doubted it.

Fia took his hand and exited the limousine in a swift, graceful motion. Then, to his surprise, she knit her fingers through his own.

“Holding hands now?” he whispered so only she could hear him. He raised an eyebrow and didn't let go of her hand.

“Daddy and I have discussed my plan, and he's on board,” she said smoothly. Too smoothly. Hand-holding or not, it was business as usual.

Isaac was pretty sure this meant she'd told her dad that she was nailing Isaac to keep him in line until filming had wrapped. It spoke volumes about how screwed up their father-daughter relationship was that she both felt comfortable sharing that and that her dad approved. Still the two somehow managed to be one of the less messed-up families in Hollywood.

“Tonight I want to give the paparazzi a different image of you,” she continued. Softening her voice, she added, “I want them to see the Isaac I know.”

Her words punched him the gut—in a good way. If that was even possible. For some incredible reason, Fia saw something in Isaac that even he couldn't see. But when he turned to kiss her, the smile on her face was plastered on. It wasn't Fia's warm, natural grin. It was practiced. Rehearsed. She was pretending, but for who? The cameras?

Or was this part of the act? Had she said that bit about the “Isaac she knew” loud enough for anyone else to hear? Fia was here to get him straight and keep him that way, he reminded himself. She wasn't the doe-eyed eighteen-year-old girl who'd fallen in love with him years ago. She spent her time cleaning up celebrity messes now—messes like him. It was all a job to her and he was getting to reap the benefits of her devoted professionalism. It was all a big show, and that was nothing to a guy who lived his life in front of the camera. So why did the whole thing make him feel so dirty?

A hand clapped around his shoulder and Arnold Maxx turned him in the direction of a small but growing crowd of onlookers. “Smile, kids!”

And there it was. The reason the whole business stunk to high heaven. Isaac had worked with Maxx for years. He respected him, much in the way a lackey respected his crooked boss. It was no small thing to say that Maxx had made Isaac's career for him, but being with him right now and watching him engineer this publicity circus—watching him use his only daughter as another pretty young ingenue—reminded Isaac that there was a price to pay for being part of the studio family. Maxx was here to remind him of that.

Or had that been Fia's job all along? His eyes skimmed across her, noting the softened makeup she wore and the wavy curl to her blond hair. She looked like the girl he'd left in LA six years ago. Actually she looked a little too much like that girl. He'd been wrong. Arnold Maxx hadn't come over here to manage the tabloid scandal brewing between his star and his daughter. He'd come here to witness it. He wasn't the director of this drama—she was.

Which meant he should have worn the goddamned tie, because tonight really was just another performance.

* * *

It was business as usual—except it wasn't. Not by a long shot, Sofia thought. She'd attended her fair share of private Hollywood dinners to keep an eye on a client or simply because she was well known in the industry. It had been a very long time since she had been the subject of speculation at one of these functions. Every few minutes she would feel eyes boring into her from another member of the small dining party. Let them wonder about what was going on with her and Isaac. She had enough dirt on the people at this table to live on blackmail money for the rest of her life—if she ever decided to abandon her ethics. It was unlikely, but a girl should always have options.

Nina Justin sat near the head of the table and next to her father. Given her track run of private auditions in closed quarters, Sofia hoped she didn't get much closer to Daddy. Nina had enough talent and the looks, but landing her roles between the sheets had catapulted her into stardom nearly overnight.

Nina caught her eye and smiled. Sofia returned it. The actress wasn't the threat she once thought she was.

Next to her was Antonio, who went by the full name of Antonio Z, which had garnered him a host of A to Z jokes in reviews. He concerned her more. Antonio was hungry for publicity. Like most film-school grads, he'd spent his twenties making artsy music videos for pop stars trying to change their public image. He'd succeeded in showing the public that a number of former tween stars were now fully legal wet dreams. And rumor was that he'd enjoyed letting many of them show him just how grown up they were.

Her father had more skeletons in his closet than a defunct haunted house. Finding blackmail-worthy material on him would be a breeze. Not that she wanted to. Of course, a person would have to be terribly stupid to blackmail Arnold Maxx. Many had tried, few succeeded. Quite simply he didn't care. It was actually a boon to appear callous and unscrupulous in his position.

The only two people here that Sofia couldn't imagine digging up dirt on were Belle and Isaac. She had no interest in digging up Belle's secrets. She wasn't sure she had any. And Isaac lived his life on the front page. What you saw was what you got when it came to his career and personal life: occasional grumbling about his work ethic and a string of flings that ended without too much drama. Maybe that was why Sofia felt comfortable in her own skin around each of them.

“Fia.” Nina interrupted her thoughts. The actress cradled her wine, drumming her fingers on the crystal. “Are we ever going to see you in movies again?”

“I was wondering the same thing,” Antonio added, lounging back in his seat. “You have the looks for it. I remember when you were on
Malibu Place
.”

Maxx raised an eyebrow in interest. “She would have no problem securing roles.”

“If you remember
Malibu Place
, then you probably remember that every review of that show lambasted my father for casting his daughter.” Sofia shrugged. It had bothered her once, but now she understood how these things worked. “I have too much fun with my current occupation to ever consider acting again.”

“Fair enough,” Nina agreed. She turned her attention to Belle. “And what do you do?”

Belle started, apparently surprised to be addressed. So far she'd spent the evening staring at the famous people surrounding her. “I just graduated.”

Sofia's thoughts faded back to Nina's question. She'd considered it before, but she knew what she was doing was important. If it wasn't, she wouldn't be here.

* * *

“And another gin and tonic,” Isaac ordered as the waiter came around to refill water glasses. Fia's hand closed over his wrist in warning, but he ignored her. Later after this charade was over, he would tell her to go fuck herself. Politely. He was still a gentleman after all.

Or maybe he'd fuck her first and then send her packing. Definitely not the definition of courtesy, but if Fia was willing to go to bed with him to make her father, aka the money, happy, then why not take advantage? It was just another gig after all.

Fia leaned in and lowered her voice. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” He shrugged as he drummed his fingers on her knee. Allowing his hand to creep up her thigh, he decided to test her. “I hope you have matching panties.”

“And if I do?” she purred.

Isaac didn't miss the fact that as she moved closer to him, she pushed his new drink away from his plate. “If you do, I'm going to take you over my knee and spank you.”

Fia's eyes rounded and she shook her head. “I have a firm line on that.”

“And a firm ass,” he added.

“Don't test me, Mr. Blue.”

Her words held a note of warning, but Isaac shrugged them off. “Isn't that my part of the bargain?”

“I'm not running an escort service.” Anger tainted her soft words.

He'd found her button. For some reason, he wanted to push it harder and see what happened. “Sorry, I didn't catch all the parameters of our arrangement.”

Fia sucked in a breath and turned away from him, shock fleeting across her face. Well, he hadn't expected that. He'd hurt her. Was it possible that stone-cold Sofia wasn't just here to screw him straitlaced?

He leaned forward and studied her profile. A single tear clung to her lower lashes. Damn, he'd made her cry. Maybe she wasn't as cool and removed as he thought she was. She'd told him herself why she was going to bed with him. But that had been before they'd actually gone through with it.

It was hard to process, but something had shifted for him. It was why he'd jumped to conclusions. But now he recognized what he was dealing with: jealousy. Not of another man. He couldn't begin to fathom Fia with another man. No, he was jealous of her capacity to move on. He'd never really been able to do that. That was clear enough now that she was back in his life. He'd also been angry—angry that there was a deadline on their relationship.

But what if things didn't have to be so temporary? What if this wasn't limited to a business proposition?

Isaac reached out and guided her face back to his. Wiping away her tears with the pad of his thumb, he smiled. It was a real smile. Not the one he flashed on the red carpet or during photo shoots. It was softer. It was real. And not one he often showed.

“I'm a dick,” he confessed. Lifting her hand to his mouth, he kissed her palm gently. “I'm sorry.”

“Maybe I should spank you later,” she threatened, but her lips twitched as she spoke.

“I have no problem with that.” He knit his fingers through hers and brought their hands to rest on the table. “Especially if you're wearing little white panties.”

“You are trouble, Isaac.” But she let a grin slip through.

Isaac felt as if he'd just won the lottery. “No, I'm
in
trouble.”

* * *

“Well, this time Isaac and I aren't going to be romantically linked,” Nina said, giggling like a schoolgirl. “Remember our first movie together? They insisted that we pretend we were madly in love.”

Isaac's grip on her fingers tightened. This wasn't news to Sofia, though. Nina had confided this to her recently, but a pang of annoyance shot through her at the thought.

“Everyone knows you prefer older men,” Maxx spoke offhandedly. “They'd never buy that you two were together now.”

“No one bought that we were a thing before,” Isaac said calmly, but there was an underlying fury to his words. It gave Sofia a small thrill to hear the subtle threat.

“I suppose not.” Nina rolled her eyes and took a sip of her wine. “Of course, you were actually in love with someone else. I bet she wasn't too happy about it.”

Nina wasn't the brightest bulb in the batch. She obviously had no idea that the girl who'd been scorned in favor of a publicity stunt was sitting next to him at this very moment. Sofia decided to focus on the fact that she was here with him now. It might be temporary, but there was something reassuring about knowing the truth. There'd been too many questions before. Maybe when it was time to move on, it wouldn't be as hard this time.

“She wasn't,” Isaac confirmed. “I'd guess she still isn't.”

Sofia squeezed his hand once. It was better to let sleeping dogs lie than to start yapping about it now.

“It was a mess,” Arnold Maxx spoke absently. His eyes locked with his daughter's, and for a split second, he almost looked sorry. She had to be imagining that, though. He didn't do sorry. He had a philosophy of never showing when he'd screwed up. Most of the time she respected that about him.

“But you went along with it, Nina?” Belle piped up, surprising everyone at the table. “Even though he had a girlfriend?”

God bless her. Belle was clearly the control in this group. She was the one variable that hadn't been affected by the crazy experiment that was life in Hollywood, which is why she could still be surprised that anyone would pretend to be in love as a publicity stunt. That was also why she was the person least likely to need daily therapy at the table.

“What were your exact words?” Nina looked to Maxx. “‘Everyone outside this film is inconsequential. Isaac understands this or he wouldn't be here'? I'm not completely heartless.”

Sofia's eyes flashed from Isaac to her father, waiting for one of them to refute this. Nina spent most of her life playing pretend. Perhaps she was getting her stories crossed.