Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

NOAH

It’s just as I imagined—a modern, almost all-glass home sitting on top of the hill overlooking the Hollywood sign. It’s your typical movie star palatial mansion. There’s a large gate at the bottom of the hill with a security guard sitting beside it. After he does his check, he allows me to drive through up the steep driveway until I reach the main entrance. I park my car, admiring the huge fountain that sits proudly in front of the property.

The door is tall and made of frosted glass. I ring the doorbell to be greeted by the housekeeper. She ushers me into the sitting room, which opens onto a back patio that overlooks the pool. The infinity pool sparkles in the backyard, and everything about this home screams Scarlett Winters—movie star.

Morgan is nowhere in sight, and throughout her text messages, she made no reference as to whether or not she’d be here today. I didn’t want to push her. This meeting is about Scarlett. I wait patiently in the sitting room, staring at the glass cabinets showcasing her awards. Rows and rows of statues and plaques rewarding her for her acting. Oscars, Golden Globes, the list goes on.

“Talented, isn’t she?”

I turn around, and Morgan’s standing at the entrance of the room. Her face appears distant—her eyes look worn out like she’s been up all night. Wearing a sleek black dress, she places her keys on the glass table.

“It appears so,” I acknowledge, moving my attention to Morgan.

“She should be here any minute,” she says plainly, void of any emotion.

“About yesterday…” I trail off.

“I get it.” Staring straight at me, without blinking, she says firmly, “You were frustrated. You want to meet Scarlett and move forward with the project.”

“Yes… I mean, no. Morgan…” I move closer to her, her body now only an arm’s length away, “… you never answered me about yesterday. Why did you cancel our meeting?”

“I said I had—”

There’s chaos at the door, followed by the sharp click of heels on the marble floor tiles. Scarlett walks into the room, followed by three other women behind her, rushing around like nervous servants.

“Oh,” she exclaims, following with a playful smile. “So, this is Mr. Mason.” She walks to me, extending her hand as I shake it politely. She’s everything in real life that she is in the movies—beautiful with flawless skin and perfectly styled platinum-blonde hair. Her signature lipstick has been applied to perfection, not a single smudge or mark out of place. With a body like hers, she manages to pull off a white jumpsuit with gold strappy heels, which make her look exactly like what she is—a movie star.

This should be a jaw-dropping moment for me, yet something isn’t right. My jaw is perfectly holding up without any desire to move. My dick stirs slightly, but I wouldn’t consider the stir anything of value to talk about.

“Very nice,” she says without breaking eye contact. Her eyes are blue, however, washed out, almost gray looking. “Has Morgan been kind enough to show you around, offered you a drink?”

“Actually, she just arrived, but I’m fine, thank you.” I smile politely.

“Well, then, please, let me give you the grand tour.” She motions for the housekeeper. “Esmerelda, please bring drinks out to the back patio.”

I follow her lead as she shows me around the house, giving me a tour of each room, what they represent in her life, along with the artwork. The house is even grander than it appears on the outside. Each room is large and filled with plenty of furniture and art pieces. She conveniently shows me her master suite, something I usually would’ve welcomed, especially when she eye-fucks me, describing how her bed was made by some new designer and has all these fancy things it can do.

I keep quiet and pretend not to notice the silver pole at the entrance of her closet. Okay, maybe there’s been a pick up in the pace of the stirring. She must detect my curiosity too, and she’s quick to mention she installed it after playing a stripper in a movie. I’m well aware of that movie. What fucking guy isn’t? I have to admit, she’s charming, and you can’t help but fall in love with her, figuratively.

She ushers us to the patio where Morgan takes a seat beside her. She’s awfully quiet, not saying much as Scarlett talks on and on about the movie she’s shooting.

“You’re very busy, Miss Winters. Hard to get a hold of,” I tell her.

“Please, call me Scarlett,” she responds with a twinkle in her eye. “Sadly, I’m not home as much as I’d like to be. Aside from the hectic filming schedule, there are constant photoshoots and endorsements. Now this book. I don’t know where I’d be without Morgan in my life.”

There’s a sense of admiration in her voice for Morgan. Surprisingly to me, I had expected a diva-like movie star who bossed her assistant around and demanded unreasonable things.

“I’m sure you’ll manage fine, Scarlett,” Morgan adds with a thankful smile.

“Please, half the time I have no idea what day it is,” she says with a slight chuckle. “I just roll with the punches. One minute you’re hot, and the next minute you’re not. That’s the business we call show.”

I laugh. “Something tells me you’re always hot, Scarlett. At least, that’s what the media seems to portray.”

“I’d say don’t believe everything you read. But sometimes, more often so, they’re spot on. However, my love life seems to be their weakness. Any man I’m seen with is apparently in my bed as well,” she tells me. “Did you hear the latest? I’m apparently carrying George Clooney’s baby. It’s the price I pay for eating that burrito during a work lunch. Bloated stomach and work colleague equal pregnant homewrecker.”

“Scarlett, you know it’s rubbish, and they will do anything to sell those magazines,” Morgan scolds her.

I’m surprised at the tone Morgan takes with Scarlett, almost berating her, but equally surprised that Scarlett brushes it off like nothing.

“Please excuse, Vee. She’s always at the press for spinning lies. Ever since I can remember, she’s fought hard for me.”

“That’s a good friend you have by your side,” I mention, then pause, confused. “You called her Vee? Is that some sort of nickname?”

Morgan stiffens, and Scarlett doesn’t change her carefree sing-song attitude. “It’s just a nickname. Her name is really Violet. Beautiful, isn’t it? I don’t know why you want people to call you by your middle name.”

Violet. I’ve heard that name before—Violet Winters.

The wine I’d just swallowed lodges in my throat, creating a gurgling sound. “Your sister?”

Scarlett looks from me to Morgan, surprised by my forward comment. “You didn’t tell him?”

“It wasn’t something he needed to know,” Morgan answers in a stiff tone.

What the fuck? Of course, I should’ve known that. All this time, she was hiding the fact she’s Scarlett’s sister? What else is she hiding? God, here I am pining for Scarlett, looking like a goddamn fool. No wonder Morgan’s defensive around me. She was—and still is—protecting her sister.

One of the ladies who had followed Scarlett in interrupts our conversation and requests Scarlett take a call, leaving Morgan and me alone. The second the patio door closes, my body turns like a possessed man, demanding answers.

“Why would you keep that a secret from me?” I grit, clenching my jaw to curb the growing anger inside me.

She brushes a speck of dust from her black dress, answering in an artic tone, “You didn’t ask.”

“I didn’t ask because it never occurred to me,” I almost yell.

“Well, it’s not a big deal. So, I’m her sister.”

I stand, frustrated. Again, running my hands through my hair like a crazed lunatic. “I don’t get you, Morgan.”

“Noah, you don’t need to get me. You don’t need to even think about me, okay?”

I move back to the table. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not stupid, Noah. You have a personal interest in Scarlett. When you’re hot, you’re hot, right?”

Our eyes battle as if we’re playing some sick, twisted game, neither one of us backing down. Scarlett walks back in, apologizing for her absence. With lunch being served, our conversation is forced to the backburner. Yet, the whole time Scarlett speaks, my head is elsewhere trying to make sense of the argument that just occurred. Morgan seems unaffected, quietly listening to Scarlett speak, but maybe she isn’t. The food on her plate is barely touched, yet the glass of champagne is completely empty.

Throwing myself into work, I discuss with Scarlett how we expect to roll out the book launch and leverage her online platforms, a little bit about the party, and a few in-store signings which have been scheduled to precede the launch. She appears to be keen on what’s presented, throwing in a few of her own ideas.

“What do you think?” she asks Morgan. “Will my schedule allow for it?”

“We can rearrange a few things,” she says simply.

Esmerelda, the housekeeper, cleans up the table, which prompts Morgan to finish the meeting, citing she needs to be elsewhere. Scarlett stands. Giving her a quick hug and avoiding my eyes, Morgan says goodbye to me then leaves the area in a rush.

“I probably should be going, too,” I suggest with the hope of catching Morgan outside. “I’ve got a ton of work to do back at the office.”

“Here’s my direct number.” Scarlett hands me a piece of paper, placing it in my hand longingly. “Don’t be afraid to call. I may be busy, but I’ve always got time for a handsome man like yourself.”

I smile politely, shocked that I don’t stick around to see how much time she really has. With my goodbyes said, I bolt outside to where Morgan’s parked toward the side of the property. With the sun hiding behind the clouds, the side entrance is dark, covered in massive bushes that protect the property from the paparazzi.

I’ve learned my lesson, and this time, I don’t call her name. Instead, I reach for her arm, willing her to stop so we can talk.

“Noah, don’t,” she begs, trying to wriggle her arm away from my grip.

I turn her around to face me, both hands latching onto her arms. Refusing to make eye contact, her gaze fixates on the ground.

“What’s this, Morgan? All this lying. All these games,” I demand answers, furious and momentarily I’m beyond words. “I don’t do well with women treating me this way.”

“What way, Noah? Should I just take my clothes off and beg for you to fuck me? Is that what you’re used to?” She forces a laugh and waits for my reaction by tightening her lips.

I didn’t expect that. She makes me sound like some goddamn pimp.

I let go of her arms angrily. “You don’t know me. And you’re awfully quick to judge me based on what? Huh?”

“Based on many things,” she blurts out. “Noah, I don’t know what it is about you, but I know your type. You like women. Many women. Not one woman. Or perhaps, my sister could sway you.”

“I don’t care about your sister,” I half-lie.

“C’mon, Noah. I wasn’t born yesterday. You’ve met her. You have her personal number, right? I need to leave.” She presses the remote, unlocking the car.

“Morgan, stop.” I slam the door shut, resting my hand on the glass to block her from entering. My body is almost touching the back of hers, so close, I can inhale her sweet scent. I close my eyes for only a moment, trying to get a grip on my body’s reaction to hers, and just when I think I can control my desire to touch her, I lean in and whisper in her ear, “I think you want me. In fact, I can bet my life on it.”

“Noah, you don’t know what you’re talking about…” she trails off.

“When you’re hot, you’re hot.” And with the words escaping my mouth, I turn her around until our faces are an inch apart and slam my lips onto hers, kissing her deeply, pressing her body against the car. She tastes beautiful, and when my tongue finds hers and glides with ease, I hear her moan into my mouth, arousing my cock as I press hard against her.

She struggles out of my grip, pulling her head away as she takes a breath. “I can’t do this. I want to… but I can’t,” she begs through a moan.

“You have no choice,” I whisper back to her. “I want you. And when I want something, I’ll do everything in my power till it’s mine.”

“Noah…”

“Don’t fight me, no more games. Tomorrow, I get to meet the real Morgan Bentley,” I demand, my hands still clutching her arms.

“Okay,” she murmurs, her posture rising slightly as if the weight of the world has lifted off her shoulders.

I release my grip and run my finger along her bottom lip. Her innocent stare into my eyes does something unimaginable. Something I can’t quite figure out. Something that makes my heart thump really loud, almost beating out of my chest.

I know this isn’t a good sign.

My heart’s in the game.

Fuck! It definitely isn’t a good sign.