Chapter Forty-Two

Brad’s driver drops us off on Shaftesbury Avenue. We avoid the tourist bars, strolling arm in arm through Soho in search of something smaller and more anonymous. The pavements are crammed with the overspill of cafés and restaurants, and we take a short detour to admire the kitschy colors of Carnaby Street.

Brad is easy company once we stop talking about Jake. He’s more like the man I met in L.A. We walk and talk for miles before my blisters start to sting like hell. Kicking off my heels, I produce a pair of ballet pumps from my bag. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all. I like dwarfing women. Brings out the caveman in me.”

His words rumble with flirtatious interest. They should tingle me in all the right places, but I’m empty inside. Jake’s gone and carved out all the best parts for himself.

What the hell is wrong with me? Brad’s hot. He’s single…

We’ve retraced our steps. We’re now circumnavigating the hordes that are milling about Leicester Square.

“What time are you shooting tomorrow?” I ask him, noting the late hour on the billboard outside the Empire.

“We’re not.”

Something in his voice makes me glance up. Brad’s expression has taken on that dangerous quality again. “Jake shut us down this afternoon. Says we crossed a line by going into production without his approval. He’s flying someone in for crisis talks tomorrow.”

Is Jake flying in, as well? A thousand emotions start punching my thoughts.

Scared, anxious… Hopeful.

“Wow. Closing down the whole production must be costing him a fortune.”

“As I said, Jake doesn’t give a shit about stuff like that. As long as he’s seen to be the one in control.”

Control.

Yes, he’s good at that. I remember him exercising that particular sentiment over me in the lobby of his mansion in L.A. What I wouldn’t give to feel his hands on me now, bending my body to his will, satisfying every part of me…

“You okay?” Brad’s stopped, and he’s frowning down at me again.

Somehow I force the images from my mind. “Can I ask you something? It might seem a little—”

“Weird?” He laughs, breaking the tension. “Honey, we just bailed on a reservation at one of the best restaurants in London. I left a thousand dollar bottle of Saint-Emilion half drunk on the table. This night couldn’t get any weirder.”

Shit, I’m turning into my mother. She’s the profligate one, not me.

He cocks an eyebrow and waits for a beat. “So? You gonna enlighten me?”

I hesitate. “It’s kind of personal too.”

“I reckon I can handle it.”

“Okay then, why did Jake’s father give up control of his studios to the same man who ran off with his wife?”

Brad’s reaction is as I expected. He straightens his back and his good humor vanishes. “It’s always been Pa’s company by reputation,” he says stiffly. “He’s the one who built it up.”

Didn’t Rachel imply that it was Jake’s father who had been the business genius?

I open my mouth to contradict him but he beats me to it, whirling around to face me, indigos flashing. Drawing me in like a lighthouse and dashing me on his rocks.

“You should work for me. My offer still stands, you know.”

My reply is interrupted by a mob of tourists pushing past. I lose my footing as I’m shoved backward into a dirty red telephone box.

Brad chuckles and reaches out to grab my arm. “I won’t keep you in the shadows like Jake did. If you wanna produce movies, I’ll let you. Come be my assistant first. What d’ya say?”

Pandora’s box has never been this tempting. The job is perfect. I can’t believe my luck. Even so, it’s one that is bursting with doubt and recrimination. Working for him will mean seeing Jake again, working alongside Jake again, and the thought of that makes my stomach churn. These two men hate one another. Jake will see it as the ultimate betrayal.

“What if he closes down the London shoot for good?” I’m grappling for excuses not to accept.

“Then we’ll figure out something else. To hell with Jake. Just because he screwed you in Morocco, doesn’t mean he gets to screw over your career, too.”

I wince at Brad’s words. They’re too overfamiliar. Too coarse. Another flicker of doubt crosses my mind. Jake was so insistent that I should never work with Brad…

“Don’t think so much,” he says softly, drawing me close as another group of tourists pummel past. “Do what your heart is telling you.”

I breathe in his energy and his strength, and I wish I could steal a part of it. As for my heart? It’s telling me to go where Jake is, no matter the cost.

My decision is clear.

“When do I start?” I say, smiling back at Brad.