“But I’m definitely going to your next movie when it hits theaters. I’ve never known any actors and, honestly, it would bekind of cool to see your face on the big screen. I tried to read about it, but the description only said it was in production.”
The first tendrils of unease wind through my stomach.
“What was it called?” Noah looks to the side before his gaze snaps back to mine. “Oh, right.The Last Wave.”
The last of my smile drops from my lips, and Noah notices.
He stops and frowns. He backs out of the streaming service, and my face disappears from the screen. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No, no, it’s not that.” I reach out as if to touch him, but let my arm drop. “I love that you thought to have my first movie pulled up and ready to go.”
“Well, something just happened,” he says, taking my hand and guiding me to the couch. We sit, but he keeps hold of my fingers. “Is it Alice?”
“No,” I say. “Not entirely.”
Biting my lip, I decide to tell him about my last movie. And why I came to Paris. With articles shouting from every news site, he’ll find out soon enough.
“The movie,The Last Wave. . .” I trail off, unsure what to say, how much to tell him. “It isn’t going to happen,” I say, trying to keep my voice and my nerves steady. “Production issues,” I add.
Technically the truth.
“I’m not supposed to talk about what happened or why the film was shut down. I haven’t spoken about it to anyone other than my agent, Lin. She’s the one who set me up in the apartment. She sent me here to keep my head down.”
I laugh at the absurdity of what I’m saying. “Basically, I’m hiding out.”
Noah’s face creases with concern. “Hiding out from who?”
“A scandal. The press. Paparazzi.” I let go of his hand and lean back on the couch. “The movie fell apart after some accusations were made.”
As soon as I say the words, I see Mackenzie’s face, her shame as she confessed her secret.
And her fury when I confessed mine.
“Unfortunately, you can read all the details online,” I tell him, hoping he’ll understand I don’t want to get into specifics. “Right now, all of us who worked on the film are keeping low profiles. No one wants their name attached to the film or to the negative publicity. Especially now there’s talk of charges being filed, and there’s the chance of being questioned. Maybe called to testify, if it goes to court.”
“Will it come to that?” he asks.
“I don’t know, but if it does, it could get ugly. Fast. These things are always messy, but when rich, powerful people are in the mix, careers can be destroyed. Lives can be ruined.”
“I’m familiar with those kinds of people,” Noah says.
I think of the Marteau family wealth and history. “Then you understand the risk of going against them.”
“I do. It’s why my mother took me to the States after my father died. She was afraid they would try to control her, have too much say in how I was raised, turn me into one of them.” Noah puts his hands on his knees. “But I’m back now, claiming what’s mine.”
His shoulders are squared, his gaze is clear, not a hint of fear or intimidation.
“You’re brave,” I say. “But I’m not sure I am.”
Or else I wouldn’t be here, hiding in Paris.
“I agree with your agent,” Noah says. “Stay here and let it die down. You don’t have to worry about testifying if you don’t know anything, right?”
“Right,” I say, ignoring the small pang. Something aches inside, and I can’t tell if it’s fear or regret.
My phone rings in my pocket; I sit up straight. “Sorry,” I say, pulling out my phone. I see the name filling the screen.
And my stomach drops to the floor.
