“So you’re setting me up so I can have a friend with benefits?” I ask with a laugh.
“I think you deserve a good time, Emma. And Simon would bea really good time. I’m sure of it.”
I’m not sure I’m up for areally good time. At least not with Simon Reeves. But I am sure I need to move on. So I agree. “Okay.” I nod. “I’m in.”
“Yay!” Olivia squeals. “I’ll make a call. Let’s double-date.”
CHAPTER 16
Sebastian
MyEmma:
I won’t be available tonight. I’m not on call. DO NOT CALL ME FOR ANYTHING. Matt can take care of all your remote-control needs. I have a date.
Me:
Been hitting the grocery store again? ;)
MyEmma:
No. But I might hit you when I see you next.
It’s not working.I only have a few days to convince Emma to stay. And now it’s Saturday, and she has a date?
Worse? The date is with Simon fucking Reeves. I’m going to kill Olivia and Chase for setting this up. The man never misses. Every woman wants him. All these years, and Emma’s always sworn that she would never be with someone in the industry.
She hasn’t been acting like herself. She quits her job. She gets smashed. And now, she’s going out with a movie star.
I try to distract myself, but I’ve been pacing around my house all night, messaging Chase, asking for updates.
And he keeps sending me annoying emojis back.
So far, he’s sent multiple heart emojis. The peach. And just now, the eggplant. He thinks he’s hilarious. Dick.
My fingers are itching to call Emma. But I fear I’ll destroy any chance that she’ll keep working for me if I go back on my promise to respect her boundaries.
But I can’t stop worrying. I’ve hung out with Simon enough to know his playboy ways haven’t changed. He’s still a love-’em-and-leave-’em type. Emma may think she’s equipped to handle a situationship with a celebrity, but what if she’s wrong? And what if she’s photographed with him? The tabloids have just died down about the image of me carrying her out of that club. They will go wild if she’s also seen with Simon. The paparazzi could even now be at her doorstep if he comes back to her apartment.
She wouldn’t invite him back there, would she?
I’venever even been to her place.
I hate the idea of the paparazzi finding out where she lives. It makes her vulnerable.
Maybe I should go there. Just to make sure it’s safe and quiet.
She only asked me not tocallher. She didn’t say anything about not going to her apartment. I know. It’s a technicality. But I grasp onto it like a lifeline. I won’t actually interrupt. I’ll just see if everything’s okay.
Is that too stalker-ish?
It’s not like I’m going to wait outside her place all night like a weirdo. I’ll just drive by on my way to… somewhere.
It takes digging, but I eventually find her address. I slip behind the wheel of my second-favorite car. My usual vehicle ofchoice, my grandfather’s Jag, is on its second round of detailing following Emma’s drunken night.
Even though she lives a long commute from Malibu, traffic is lighter than usual at this hour.
I pull into the parking lot, and relief flows through me that there don’t seem to be any paparazzi idling and waiting. I’m even more relieved to see that none of the cars looks like they belong to Simon Reeves.
