Before I could move, Stella must have noticed the look on my face, because she hopped off the chair and stood in front of me. Noemi took the Deadman by the expensive shirt and practically dragged him into the other room.
Noemi’s voice came as a whisper, but Damon’s was irate and screaming.
“You brought me here for this shit, Ryan! Fausti name or not, she’s not perfect for your sappy film, she’s perfect formine. It’s my way or the highway, babe!”
“You do realize who’s in the next room, right?” Noemi sounded as nervous as fuck, because she knew. “That’s…That’s Luca Fausti’s grandson.”
“So, I should be afraid of a financial guy?” He made an incredulous sound. “His name is Mah-tay-tow,” he made my name sound like it rhymed with potato, “not Luca. I have men who will eat him alive for dinner. They’ll rip apart his flesh, bleed him dry with one bite!”
“Did you bring them, and an army too?” Noemi’s voice seemed to linger. “I think you’ve been in the movie business too long, Damon. You can’t separate reality from fiction.”
Noemi had lost control of the situation. Damon Carter came barreling back into the room, where Stella was still standing in front of me. When he reentered, I set her behind me, and her arms came around me, like she could stop me from bulldozing this near-future food.
“This is it, Stella. If I leave this room, I’m not coming back. You agree or not, and that’s final. Sorry, Star, but that’s the way it is.”
“You’ve wasted your time, Mr. Carter,” she said, her voice firm. “Your role isn’t for me, and neither is the Hollywood scene.”
He went to open his mouth, but with just a flick of my eyes, Oscar took him by the shirt and hauled him toward the door. I went to take a step forward, but Stella turned in my arms and put her hands against my chest, her eyes pleading with me tostay.
“It’s customary to walk guests out,” I said. “That’s all I’m doing. Seeing him off.”
She studied my eyes, and when she found no lie, as she never would, she stepped to the side. I fixed my tie and suit, and then in a few long strides, made it to the door. Damon Carter was outside of our room, on the threshold, fixing his messed hair and going for his phone.
When he realized another man had walked up, he looked up, fury in his eye. Looked like Oscar had elbowed him in the other. It was swollen shut. “Your people put their hands on me,” he said. “I’m calling my attorney.”
“You do that.” I turned to leave, then turned back, snapping my fingers. I stared at Damon Carter with, if he was smart enough to recognize it, dangerous intent in my eyes. He stared at me with his good eye, nothing but empty vitriol glaring back at me. “Tell me, do you enjoy fishing, Mr. Carter.”
“Like on a yacht?” His face scrunched up. “Yeah, I guess so, why?”
I smiled at him, only half of my mouth curling up. “Bene. Bene.” I patted Oscar on the shoulder, and I felt his subtle nod at my touch. “We’ll make our date on a yacht then. We’ll consider it payment for this entire waste of time.”
Damon Carter opened his mouth to respond, but with my silent order, Oscar shut the door in his face.
Chapter 39
Stella
The night we’d met with that sleaze ball, Damon Carter, kept coming back to haunt me.
The looks that woman kept giving my husband.
My reaction to it.
All the things I’d said, and all the things I should have said.
Though I still couldn’t find it in me to take them back, or to tell Matteo the real reason why I caused that fight.
Maybe because I had no clue.
Matteo hadn’t flirted with her, or given her a second glance, or given her any reason to feel he wanted more of her.
My husband hadn’t given me a reason to feel that way either—that he wanted her.
Something was there, though, under the surface, that hadn’t made itself known yet. All I’d been feeling about my mom, my past, was still clawing to be free, but this new feeling had made itself known, and it was angry. So, angry, sometimes I wanted to punch things, or people, for no reason.
If Damon Carter would have shown his face after that second meeting, it probably would have been him. He was such an asshole! And on the ride back to our house in the So Cal hills, I’d looked out the window, wishing I could see more of this partof the world, as far as scenery, and told my husband, “What I said, I meant. I don’t want to be a part of…all that Damon Carter offered me. I want to go back to Italy, go back home, and if I’m going to act, do it there. I’m learning the language.”
He’d nodded and kissed my pulse.
