Chapter Twenty-Two

That evening, Rachel and I finish up early and head to a café on the other side of town for dinner. I haven’t seen Jake this morning, not since he fucked me senseless, drowning us both in that ocean of desire that seems to be constantly roiling between our bodies.

He’s been holed up in his office on a conference call to L.A. for most of the day. If I’m honest, it’s been a welcome reprieve. I need to catch my breath. I need to find some perspective. I wish I could spill my guts to Rachel, but Jake’s sworn me to secrecy. It’s the one condition of our relationship. I can’t even tell Lucy back home, and it’s eating me up inside.

The sidewalk outside the café is besieged with white garden furniture and lively locals. Rachel and I take our places amongst them and attempt to decode the menu. Fortunately, our potluck choices turn out to be excellent. A little too excellent. I haven’t eaten this much in weeks, and I bemoan as much as we finish up our meal with piping hot mint tea, a drink as ubiquitous in Morocco as Coca Cola.

“Good, wasn’t it?” She sighs in contentment. “We should definitely come here again.”

“If we do, I’m not eating for a week beforehand,” I warn her.

The waiter arrives to offer us more tea.

“You know I’ve just realized something, Charlie,” says Rachel, tipping her head back to gaze at the millions of stars above us. “We’ve been working together for weeks, and I still don’t know the first thing about you. I don’t even know where you come from.”

“The accent kind of gives it away,” I murmur, watching the waiter disappear back inside the café again.

“That’s it? That’s all I get?” She starts laughing at me in disbelief.

“What else do you want to know?”

“Likes, dislikes, movie crushes! You’re so secretive. Is it a British thing?”

“Maybe.” I still won’t look at her. I hate talking about myself. “This country is so beautiful. I wish I could stay here forever.”

“Is this my first insight into the Charlie Winters mindset?” she says slyly.

Is it?

Do I really love this place, or is it the thousand-mile distance from all the bad memories that makes it so special?

I can’t deny it—there’s a richness to this country that stupefies my senses almost as much as Jake does. Tonight, the setting sun has woven a spectacular web of gold around each building. A couple of old men are setting up a mini souk opposite. They’re shouting out instructions at each other in a chaotic jumble of French and Arabic, which has garnered them the attention of most of the café’s patrons.

“Morocco’s okay, I suppose.” Rachel follows my gaze and frowns. “I still miss my pizza on speed dial, though.”

“Sadist!” I grin and clutch my stomach. “I must have put on at least a stone in the last hour. How did you find out about this café, anyway?”

“Max brought me here.”

I rock forward in surprise. “Oh?”

“Ages ago, on another shoot,” she says airily, answering my unspoken question.

“I had no idea that you and he had—?”

“We haven’t.” She tucks a strand of blond hair behind her ear. It’s a self-conscious gesture. “I fell for the wrong brother, really.” She reaches out to take a cautious sip of her tea and winces at the heat. “Max is far too unattainable for the likes of me.”

Seriously?

I start twirling my silver teaspoon around my fingers like a marching band’s baton. In my opinion, Max is the opposite. He’s far too attainable. It would be the holding onto him afterward that would cause the real heartache.

“Not that Jake would ever be interested,” I hear her say. “He’s my boss, and anyway, he’s far too hooked on Cassie. But you probably guessed that already.”

I stop twirling immediately. I drop the teaspoon and hide my shaking hands under the table. “But I thought they ended months ago?”

“This time, perhaps. It’s been hot and cold for years.”

As if on cue, my cell phone beeps.

Jake: Time to put all your Fifty Shades fantasies into practice.

Not when the revelations about you are coming thick and fast.

“Who was that?” asks Rachel.

“My mother,” I lie.

My phone beeps again and she raises her eyebrows at me.

I shrug. “What can I say? She’s persistent.” I turn my phone face down on the table.

Rachel nods in sympathy. “Kinda like mine, then. Do you think there’s some secret prenatal training school we don’t know about? Maybe it’s a two-for-one deal? You get knocked up and learn how to be super oppressive all at the same time…”

“If so, then my mom graduated with honors. Are you sure about Jake?” I’m displaying a persistence of my own now. “He and Cassie seem so…incompatible?” Is there a pattern emerging here?

“Wow, you really don’t follow celebrity gossip, do you?” There’s no judgment in Rachel’s eyes, just a mild interest in how someone’s got so far in life without binging on Hollywood exclusives. “Jake and Cassie are fuck-buddy boomerangs. They can’t leave each other alone for longer than a few weeks. They mess around in-between, but it’s all meaningless.” She’s mistaking my stunned silence for rabid curiosity. “Why do you think he okayed her for this movie? They could have easily spent the last month on separate continents.”

My phone beeps once more, making us both jump.

“Is that your mother again?”

“I’ll call her back later.”

She studies me for a moment. “Are you feeling okay? You look kinda green.”

“Bad indigestion.” Another lie. “How long have they, err, been carrying on like this?”

“Three years. They have quite the backlist. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s with her right now.”

Oh. Shit.

Rachel takes another sip of her tea. “I know this celeb stuff is all new to you, Charlie, but you must have felt the chemistry between them. Cassie’s a pain in the butt, but she’s skinny and beautiful. And as for Jake… Well, Jake’s Jake, I guess.” She shrugs, silently acknowledging his physical perfection. “I’m amazed he hasn’t asked me to ditch her hotel booking yet. Why pay for two expensive suites when only one bed is being used?”

The pain I feel takes my breath away. I knew they were unfinished business from the moment I first saw them together. I’m Jake’s consolation prize until they can finally figure things out again.

This is a perfect excuse to end it, so why are my fingers suddenly allergic to my phone?

“Tell me about their father,” I say, rushing to change the subject before Rachel gets wind of my emotional turbulence. “I read somewhere that he died not so long ago.”

“Robert Dalton. Self-made billionaire.” Rachel slides her empty cup into the middle of the table. “He took over Global Studios for next to nothing during the industry recession in the sixties and made a killing in the seventies. The guy was a movie virtuoso.”

I stare at her with renewed respect. “How do you know all this stuff?”

She flicks a strand of blond hair away from her face again. “Max told me.”

Max seems to confide in her an awful lot.

“Was Jake close to him?”

“Before their mother walked out on the family, yes. Jake was only about ten at the time. Robert was obsessed with his studio. I guess she got fed up. It must’ve been terribly boring sitting alone in an empty mansion all day.” Rachel sighs, and shakes her head at the idiosyncrasies of the superrich. “Robert fell apart after she left. He was forced to hand over the running of Global to his VP, Walt Wilson, until Jake was old enough to take on the business. But Jake never wanted it. Not until now.”

I have an image of a brown-eyed boy. One who is fighting to keep his mother and father together as his whole world is falling apart.

“I had no idea about any of this,” I whisper.

“Why would you?” says Rachel, looking at me oddly. “Even the press doesn’t have the full story. I got all this from Max.”

“Why didn’t Jake want Global until now?” My inner monologue is spewing out across the table again.

“Perhaps he didn’t want to be a businessman?” She signals for the bill. “Jake loves producing movies. He’s so good at it, too. He’s going through hell at the thought of giving it all up after this shoot. I swear that’s why he’s so moody all the time.”

That, and a barrage of hostility from me.

“Do you think Jake blames Global for his mother leaving?” I ask her.

Rachel considers my question. “You mean as a fallout from Robert’s obsession? Maybe. Jake and his father ended up having a huge fight about it a few years ago. It destroyed their relationship. They weren’t even on speaking terms when Robert died.”

“And now Jake’s being dragged back to L.A. by invisible chains.”

“Chains that bind him tighter than you or I could ever imagine.” Rachel looks up as the bill arrives. “Ah, thanks. By the way, I don’t recommend you ask Jake about any of this. He fired a cameraman last year for doing that.” She rakes her eyes over the scrappy piece of paper. “Hey, you don’t have change for twenty dirhams, do you?”