“Say no? Bring your girl with you for a group photo? Hell if I know. But now we’ve got a whole hell of a lot of damage control to do. Benson called me this morning. Said he’s having doubts about your commitment to cleaning up your image.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I snap, my voice echoing in the small empty space. “A few publicity photos and they’re questioning me?”
“This is Hollywood, kid. You know how it works. One whiff of bullshit and they’re ready to cut ties.”
The elevator doors slide open, revealing the executive floor with its sleek modern design and floor-to-ceiling windows.
Stepping out, I lower my voice. “So what am I supposed to do? Walk in there and beg for forgiveness because I took some photos with a friend?”
“Ex-girlfriend as far as they know. And no,” Hank exhales wearily. “Just be ready to sell the hell out of your relationship with Lizzy. Make them believe it’s real. Because if you don’t, you can kiss that director’s gig goodbye.”
I close my eyes and suck in a slow breath in an attempt to center myself. “Got it.”
“And Rowan?”
“Yeah?”
“For what it’s worth, the chemistry between you two looked pretty damn real in the red carpet photos. Use that.”
I can’t help but smile, thinking about last night. About Lizzy in my bed. “Don’t worry. I can be convincing.”
“You’d better be. Call me after.”
Straightening my shoulders, I hang up and take a deep breath. More than ready to plead my case, I walk up to thereceptionist, who doesn’t so much as bat an eye when she sees me.
“Good morning, Mr. Cole. They’re ready for you.”
Rising from her chair, she motions for me to follow.
She leads me down a hallway lined with framed movie posters—several of them mine—to a sleek conference room where three men in expensive suits are sitting around a polished mahogany table.
Art Benson, head of production and development, rises from his seat with a tight smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Rowan. Good of you to join us.”
I shake his hand firmly. “Thanks for meeting with me on a Sunday.”
“Well, when the studio’s newest potential director has quite the weekend, adjustments to the schedule must be made,” he says, tone clipped as he gestures to the other men. “You remember David Chan, our head of marketing, and Jeffrey Lawson from legal.”
Tension thick in the air, they nod coolly as I take a seat across from them.
“So,” Art begins, folding his hands on the table. “Let’s talk about last night.”
Keeping my expression neutral, I lean back and cross my feet at the ankles. “What about it?”
David slides his tablet across the table.
When I see the headline, I blow out a cleansing breath. Then, when I read the rest of the article, I almost blow a freaking gasket.
ROWAN COLE LOVE TRIANGLE? OR A GOOD OLD SWITCHEROO?
Rowan Cole seems awfully cozy, not only with his current girlfriend, artist Lizzy Cade on the red carpet, but his supermodel ex Carrie Southern at the Crane Gallery Gala last night. But that’s not all, folks! No, siree. It looks like Rowan’s rival, Walker Prince, wants a piece of Lizzy Cade, too!
Tabloid bullshit at its finest.
“This,” Art says, nodding at the screen, “is not what we discussed when we talked about cleaning up your image.”
I swallow my irritation. “With all due respect, those photos are being taken completely out of context. You know as well as I do how these tabloids operate.”
“That’s exactly my point,” he says, leaning forward. “We discussed a complete image overhaul. No more playboy antics, no more tabloid drama. We need you to be seen as serious, stable, and ready to transition behind the camera.”
