Page 33
Author: Bella Andre
Finally, Valentina spoke, her voice hoarse with the barely restrained fury that was choking them all. “I knew it would be hard. I knew this would happen, even though it all seemed like everything was starting to go so well, and things were so easy and perfect this morning with the three of us having breakfast together. I knew better, knew I didn’t want—”
She stopped abruptly in the middle of her sentence and both he and Tatiana held their breath as she put down the paper. When Valentina finally looked up at him, Smith was struck by the way the beautiful green and brown of her eyes were in sharp relief to her starkly pale face.
And then, she reached for him, her hands even colder than they’d been that night when they’d boarded his yacht to head to Alcatraz. His heart stopped beating in his chest as he waited for her to tell him she was done. That she couldn’t do this. That it was over.
She took a deep breath. And then another. Finally, she said, “I meant it when I said I’d try. I’m not looking forward to more of this, but it’s one thing to say I want to try. It’s another to know that I can keep trying when everything’s not perfect and sunshine and rainbows. ”
Relief swamped him as he immediately dragged her into his arms and held her so tightly that only later would he realize he could have bruised her ribs. Her words meant even more with Tatiana there to witness them. Because, finally, she wasn’t trying to hide them anymore.
Was it possible, Smith wondered, that the fake story might end up being a blessing, rather than a curse?
* * *
Smith soon found out that he’d never been so wrong about anything in his life. The paparazzi lying in wait for the three of them on the sidewalk outside of Valentina and Tatiana’s house were anything but a blessing.
Already late heading to set, having ignored the last five texts that had come in from his Assistant Director, as the flashes went off in their faces while the paparazzi got big money shots of the three of them, a half-dozen images flashed before Smith.
Valentina with fire in her eyes as she faced him down in a way few other people ever had when she warned him to stay away from her sister.
The sweet joy—and longing—on her face when she’d congratulated Marcus and Nicola on their engagement.
Holding her in his arms in front of the fire while they talked about their families, and the pain of losing a parent.
The shocking heat of their first kiss in his office, and then again at Alcatraz, out on the rocks beneath a full moon.
Her tears falling as they filmed another emotional scene from his movie.
And then, the way she’d bravely faced him and told him she wanted to try, that she was willing to see if they could make things work despite his career and her aversion to ever having to be in the spotlight with him.
Smith had fifteen years of experience at dealing calmly with this kind of situation. A week before, he might have bragged that he could have taught a class on it to new actors. Hell, just minutes ago he’d been telling Valentina that they should just look at it as being similar to the kind of make-believe they created with their movies and stories.
But as he tried to shield Valentina from the paparazzi, as he told them again and again to stop and they didn’t, and as he heard one of the photographers tell another, “Talk about living the dream by banging two hot sisters,” all he could think was, She’s going to leave me now. She’s going to leave me now. She’s going to leave me now, until the words blurred together inside his head into something that resembled the hard shape of a fist.
Smith’s fist crashed hard into one of the cameras first, before crashing even harder into the jaw of the man holding the camera.
Chapter Twenty-six
Oh God, Valentina thought as she sat in the passenger seat of Smith’s car with Tatiana in the backseat, I don’t want this life. I’ve never wanted this life.
Smith gunned the engine and flew down the street, away from the paparazzi who were still taking pictures. Valentina’s mind felt at once totally full, yet completely empty. She didn’t know what to think, didn’t know how to deal with the strange sense of satisfaction over watching him defend her and her sister that was combined with her fear that he’d get hurt in the scuffle. Not to mention the fallout that was sure to come from his complete loss of control.
In the backseat, Tatiana had immediately called the film’s head publicist so that they could get started on damage control. But Valentina couldn’t even begin to concentrate on what her sister was saying.
She couldn’t look away from Smith, from the way his knuckles were bruised and bloody where he’d come in contact with the edge of a camera. . . and then the bones of another man’s jaw. His own jaw was clenched tight, and she could feel the fury, the frustration, pouring off him.
“Are you okay?”
Her voice sounded strange to her own ears—strange enough that when Smith didn’t answer, she thought maybe she hadn’t actually said the words aloud.
She tried again. “Your hand. It’s bleeding. Are you okay?” But this time, even though she was sure she’d said it out loud, he still didn’t answer. “Smith?”
He hit the brakes hard at a red light and when he turned to her, what she saw in his eyes had her breath catching in her throat.
“You’re right,” he said, his voice even deeper than usual. And raw. So raw.
Whatever it was she was right about, she didn’t want him to say it. She just wanted everything to—
“I’m no good for you. My life is no good for you. ”
Oh God. She’d already thought things were bad, but this—this—was a thousand times worse.
Smith had been sure from the start. Sure that he wanted her. Sure that she wanted him. And he’d been unfailingly sure that they could figure out how to make things work when all signs pointed in the opposite direction.
She was so stunned and so deeply wounded by his declaration that she felt frozen in stone, only her sister’s hand on her shoulder thawing a tiny part of her.
How badly she wished she could tell him he was wrong, and that she could handle this life. But how could she when she’d been caught in what felt like an impossible web? One made out of her beliefs that she was not, in fact, capable of dealing with the spotlight—along with intertwining threads of a ravenously hungry media and paparazzi who would always be intent on shining that light over whomever Smith chose to be with.
And if she couldn’t say it, if she couldn’t get out the words to make everything better, what then?
Did it mean they were over?
Just the thought of it had her stomach twisting, her chest clenching, her breath faltering. What she’d felt after seeing the horrible story about the three of them, or even when the paparazzi had been taking pictures of her, was nothing compared to actually losing Smith.
Smith pulled into the cast and crew parking lot and Tatiana squeezed her shoulder once, then said, “I’ll let everyone know you’re both coming soon,” before getting out of the car.
Valentina looked at Smith’s hand again, saw the dried blood on it, and wished she knew what to say. What to do. She always had before, had been so sure about what to go for, what to avoid. Until now. Until Smith had come into her life and everything she’d believed, everything she’d been so damn sure about, had twisted and turned and flipped around until the only thing she knew anymore was how much she wanted him, how much she enjoyed being with him, how much she needed him.
But even though she had no idea what to say or do or feel anymore, she knew one thing: they couldn’t leave the car like this. Couldn’t go about their day on set with “You’re right, I’m no good for you,” ringing in both their ears on repeat.
But just as she was about to finally reply, she saw the flashes coming from the sidewalk just beyond the set. Of course the paparazzi had come. She’d just been too shell-shocked by everything that had already happened this morn
ing to think ahead.
Smith saw them at the same moment and reached for the door handle to get out of the car and away from the cameras when Valentina put her hand on his arm.
“Smith. ”
Her voice caught on his name, turning one syllable to two.
When he turned back to face her, his expression as bleak as she knew hers had to be, she had to say something. Anything. If only so he’d know that she wasn’t ready to give up yet, and that she still wanted to see if they could find a way to make their happily-ever-after work out.
She opened her mouth to try to find the words, but fear had them clogging in her throat.
The faint hope that had flared in his eyes for a brief moment burned out.
Finally, he was the one who spoke. “We need to get away from the cameras. ”
Knowing he was right, she went with him in silence from the car to the set, which had been beefed up with extra security. Anything she could have said to him was swallowed up by the concern of the cast and crew who had become like family to them both. No one made a big deal out of Smith and Valentina being together, only about the indignity of the paparazzi cramming its way into their private business.
Business that, due to the extreme expense of shooting a movie on location, had to go forward as usual.
* * *
Six horribly tense hours later, during which everyone did their damnedest to do their job, and do it well, despite what had happened that morning, Valentina watched the married camera operator and lighting designer give each other a quick kiss between takes. Her chest clenched tight at their easy affection.
What would it have been like to be able to kiss Smith without worrying about what people would say?
But as the cameras started rolling again, Valentina knew that hadn’t really been the problem. After all, she’d never cared what anyone thought about her.
She’d been a coward about trusting their relationship to keep moving forward, especially past filming when they both moved on to other projects. She’d tried to back up that cowardice by telling herself that things with Smith had come from so far out of the blue and had moved too fast, that she hadn’t come into this project looking for a man that she would fall in l—
“Cut!”
When Valentina looked at Smith in surprise, and realized he was holding his phone to his ear, she froze again, thinking it must have to do with the fallout from this morning. But that wouldn’t explain the quick flash of joy that moved across his face. And then she saw the name on his lips—Sophie—and she knew.
His sister was having her twins.
She was already up out of her seat as he headed toward her. “I know I’m not family,” she said, “but—”
“Come be happy with me, Valentina. ”
God, yes, please. She wanted so badly to share in his joy. He called out for everyone to take the rest of the day off, and then they were racing each other to his car. The cameras started flashing again as soon as the two of them came into view, but even though Valentina’s gut twisted again, and she could see a muscle in Smith’s jaw jumping, she did her best to ignore the paparazzi.
She loved babies. The way they smelled. Their innocence. Their soft skin. Even the way they scrunched up their little faces when they were furious at the world for keeping them hungry or wet or sleepy.
She still remembered the day Tatiana was born, the immediate love she’d felt for her baby sister. Her mother had let her hold the newborn within minutes of the birth and when her sister had looked up at her with her big blue eyes, Valentina had tumbled heart-first into a love so strong it had shaped her entire life.
“My mother said she’s been having contractions for most of the morning and that they’re close enough now for all of us to come. ”
God, she thought as despair rolled through her, she loved the sound of his voice. It was going to be so hard not to hear it every day…especially the way he whispered her name in her ear with such passion as he came into her.