“He held me there for fucking ever for the shot.” My jaw tightens. “One second longer and I would’ve kneed him in the balls. But then he let go. I left, and I thought I’d never have to see him again. End of story. But that wasn’t the end of it,” I say, almost sadly.
“I’m sure it wasn’t.” Harrison gestures toward the low stone ledge along the side of the church.
I sit. The moment I do, the weight I’ve been carrying finally loosens.
“My career was on the rise,” I say quietly. “So, he made the most of it.”
“He used you,” Harrison says flatly.
“It’s part of the career I chose.”
“The fucked-up part,” Harrison seethes.
“The next thing I knew, the media was having a field day, saying we were engaged.” I blow out a breath. “And Myra… confirmed it.”
Harrison’s brow furrows hard. “Why?”
“Because Hollywood loves romance. Loves weddings.” I gesture toward the church. “The agreement was simple. They lied. I stayed quiet.” I pause, then add, “Along with a few other caveats. No outside love interests. Nothing that would publicly embarrass either of us.” I roll my eyes. “I kept my end of the deal.”
“While Pierce broke it all over TikTok,” Harrison says.
“It was supposed to be one movie,” I force out. “Then we’d go our separate ways. Clean. Easy.” I keep my eyes on the traffic sliding past. “I didn’t care what Pierce did, as long as I didn’t have to lie and he was discreet.”
Harrison snorts. “The guy who accidentally pinned a dick pic to his Pinterest board.”
“That’s ‘Pin Prick Pierce’ for you.” I air-quote, push past the mortifying reminder, and keep going. “But he couldn’t keep it in his pants for two more weeks. And when Myra decided my career was spiraling, she panicked.”
“Let me guess,” he huffs. “Another movie.”
“Myra agreed on my behalf.” I shake my head. “But she knew I’d never do another fake engagement.” I swallow past the shame lodged in my throat. “It’s the role of a lifetime. The one I’ve been competing for since before I even knew Pierce Maddox existed.” My voice drops. “And I didn’t have the guts to say no.”
With a rough tug, he loosens his tie.
“Does your family know?”
I shake my head. “I signed an NDA. Nobody knows. Just Myra. Pierce. And now you,” I rasp.
“I see.” His lips tighten. “Then they would probably hate him as much as I do.”
“Probably.” I catch a flicker in his eyes, but I can’t read him at all.
His silence presses in, and I feel it in my chest.
I stand, brushing my hands down my thighs like I can wipe the feeling away.
“Come on,” I say, turning toward the doors. “We should go inside.”
I hate that he thinks less of me now.
That maybe I shouldn’t have told him.
Not that it matters.
In a few days, I’ll be back in LA.
And Harrison Evans will be the guy I try not to think about.
The man I bared my soul to.
