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Future.
You were as good as the movie or television show you had out.
End of story.
As much as cancel culture existed, there was still a high demand for second chances in the incredibly toxic, self-absorbed LA town. People loved a good comeback story. It made strangers feel as if we were just like them, and becoming relatable overnight was the only straw I had left to grab.
Despite being labeled the bad boy of Hollywood from the second my balls dropped. I’d never been in trouble quite like I had been these past few months. I was born a trust-fund baby, and you’d think that would have made life easier for me.
Not in the Aires legacy.
It was the exact opposite.
The pressure to get my shit together was at an all-time high, basically burning into my skin by my management team and family. If I couldn’t get this to work, I’d be fucked six ways till Sunday.
Out of nowhere, my career depended on America’s sweetheart agreeing to be my love interest for the next Blockbuster, a romantic drama movie hitting the theaters on Christmas.
Bailey Pierce-McGraw.
She was everything I wasn’t.
Proper.
Composed.
Polite.
Little Miss Goody Two-shoes could do no wrong in the limelight. She was the highest-paid actress for the past few years. Not to mention, her father and stepfather were legacies in their own rights. And don’t get me started on her grandfather, who descended from a bloodline of outlaw bikers.
All of this was who she was to the world and to her family…
To me, I knew the girl she was behind closed doors.
The one who was my first everything, and I do mean everything—on- and off-screen.
Seven years later, she was now my only hope.
Except it wasn’t about getting her to agree to co-star with me. It was about getting her management team to approve. At the end of the day, it didn’t matter what we wanted to sign the dotted line for; our management teams would always have the last word on where our career turned and whether we said yes or no to the project.
And at the current moment in time, the world thought I was a recovering drug addict, fresh out of rehab a couple of weeks ago. That couldn’t have been further from the truth. Don’t get me wrong, I did my fair share of partying. I was young, and the world was literally at my fingertips. I might as well be dead if I wasn’t taking advantage of it.
However, my recreational drug use was far from a problem. That didn’t stop me from going down in a blaze of glory, making Bailey the only reason I was in this bullshit narrative to begin with.
She owed me.
Big time.
Now, if we could just get her management team to agree to have her play the role, she’d be my second chance at saving what was left of my career. The deadline to begin filming was quickly approaching, and I needed her to be my love interest.
When the truth was, after all these years, she might have beenthe onewho got away…
Shit, maybe that was the beginning of my origin story?
I didn’t have too much time to think about it as I walked into the seven-figure wedding I had no business attending. I wasn’t invited, and I was only there dressed in a black suit, trying my best to blend in, because I needed a favor from a man who owed me one.
Self-made billionaire Elias Sinclair was my last resource of actually making this happen, or I’d be up a creek without a paddle. His wife, Capri, was Bailey’s publicist, and if anyone could convince her team to let her costar with me, it’d be her. This couldn’t have been worse timing.
The man just got married in their home, for fuck’s sake.
