Once the server returned his card, Nicolas left.
He threw Chase down against the leather seat in the back of his car. The inebriated fool curled up from the cold wind that blew in, and Nicolas faintly deciphered the words leaving his mouth.
Hearing them, Nicolas wished he never did.
“I’ve missed you, dickass Nick.”
22
The scandal between Starz’s actresses and its co-owner had already been replaced by more interesting headlines. However, Emily gained a huge number of new followers.
Her social media accounts grew by three million, totaling to over forty million. Fans began pushing for her to be cast in a new movie adapted from a book, saying she fit the role perfectly.
Jake had no choice than to accept the deal when it came to fruition. If he’d declined, the public would have thrown a fit. The charity invitation switch was still hanging over the agency’s head. So, he reluctantly let her sign the contract.
It was official: Emily Pinault was making a comeback.
“Congratulations on your new film.” Nicolas’s voice came through her phone’s speakers.
She shivered at how its timbre wrapped around her. “To be praised by Mr. Re himself, to what do I owe the honor?”
She heard the rustle of fabric. He’d shrugged off his jacket. It was followed by the creak of leather as he settledinto his chair. He was in his office, probably overlooking skyscrapers from the view.
“Now who’s flattering whom, Mrs. Re?”
Her cheeks set on fire, not just because he’d brought up their past conversation in which he’d been a flirt on the balcony, but mostly because he’d used her married name.
Nicolas had gone silent too.
A Freudian slip?
Please say something. Anything. This is getting too unbearable.
David had called her that plenty of times, but hearing it from Nicolas himself felt different. It was intense, almost a solidification of who she was in his life now.
Mrs. Re.
She was still trying to get over their almost-kiss when they’d shared a bed. He hadn’t said anything about it, so she thought it best to do the same, but it was very difficult in moments like this.
“Hello? Emily? Are you still there? Don’t tell me you’re doing dirty things to the sound of my voice.”
“No, I’m not!”
“Mhm…” he hummed in skepticism.
“I’ll be hanging up now, Nicolas.”
His deep chuckle came. “Don’t be late for dinner. I’ll be making your favorite.”
I hate the way I like how that sounds too. So domestic.
“How could you possibly know what my favorite is?” she challenged.
“I have my ways of finding things out about you, Emily. Just like you do with me.”
She hung up the phone with her face turning scarlet. He knew about the background check she’d run on him. Of course he did. “The things this man says.”
“The things who says?”
