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"At what, Zac? At ruining my life? At taking money and things that don't belong to you? Things that you didn't earn?"
"Putting up with your bullshit was work, sweetheart, believe me. I earned whatever I get out of this."
"'This was supposed to be a marriage," Juliet said quietly. "I see now it never was. Get out of my house." Pride and relief torpedoed through me.
"That's my cue," I told Zac, stepping closer.
"I can see myself out," he said, turning to move toward the front door. I could only imagine what he planned to do as he made his way through the house. He was probably going to grab a lamp or a painting as he passed through the entry way. "The way you came in," I instructed, moving to block his path.
"Brainless asshole," he said, glaring up at me. I was at least three inches taller than him and easily had fifty pounds of muscle on the guy. I almost wanted him to challenge me, but if I touched him, I'd likely be looking for another job. The firm didn’t smile on killing former clients. Even if they were jerkwads.
I walked inches behind Zac as he made his way back to the kitchen door, where Chad waited. "Mr. Stevens is done here."
Chad grinned at him. "I trust you had a nice visit, sir?"
"You assholes," Zac said, and then he hustled down the driveway and back to his overpriced sports car, no doubt paid for by Juliet Manchester dollars.
"I love this job," Chad chuckled as I thanked him and went back inside.
Juliet was still sitting at the table, but her hands were shaking in front of her now. Elvis was asleep in her lap. I hated seeing her so shaken, hated that Zac had that power over her.
"You okay?" I asked.
Without a word, she placed Elvis on the floor, stood, crossed the room, and stepped into my chest. My arms went around her and I held her to me, comforting her, and taking too much comfort myself from having her there.
Chapter Nine
Juliet
"Asex tape right now will ruin you," Clarissa, my agent, said on the phone. "As will any entanglement that seems less than ... well, seemly."
"I need a seemly entanglement," I echoed.
"Or no entanglements at all," she mused, sounding thoughtful. "Though a fresh new relationship, one that has begun on the heels of your divorce—definitely not before—that could be a good thing."
Did I tell her? Could I mention Jace? My heart lifted. I cleared my throat. "There actually might be someone," I said, testing the waters. I had a feeling she wouldn't like it. I could already see how dating my bodyguard would play in the tabloids. So far this month I'd had a drug problem, thanks to a photo at the grocery store where I had on oversized sunglasses and a messy bun that was just a little too messy. And I'd also had a nervous breakdown. That photo had been shot in my driveway by a drone, I suspected. I was standing next to my car, my face leaning onto my arm. I remembered that day. It was just a couple days after I'd caught Zac. I had been crying.
"I have an idea," she said, and my heart sank. She'd ignored my words. Because it didn't matter if there was someone. She would tell me what needed to happen next. She would help me construct the façade I'd wear to keep the wolves at bay. She'd tell me how to act, who to be. Just as she had since my first movie had made me a star. "You and Ryan McDonnell had fantastic chemistry on screen."
Ryan was a nice guy—a good person. I'd filmed with him months ago, but the movie had just come out. We'd been photographed together at the premiere, arm in arm, and there had been several articles about the pairing on screen. Fans liked it. "Ryan?" I said thoughtfully.
"It's perfect. A movie star match will be just the thing to distract people from their belief that this divorce is shaking you to pieces. We can't really afford any more stories about you heading for rehab or breaking down. Your image is fragile, Jules. You're America's sweetheart, which is great, but it's not surprising they don't think you're tough enough to survive this nasty divorce. A sex scandal right now would destroy you. We'd have to rebuild from nothing. America's sweetheart doesn't make sex tapes."
I sighed. America knew very little about what its sweetheart did or didn't do. America didn't seem to care. "Clarissa, I don't know about Ryan. What if there was something real? Someone real?"
"If you haven't starred with him recently, I'm less interested. And this guy needs to be squeaky clean. Word on the street is that Ryan served in the Peace Corps, which is perfect. Like the military except you get all the service without all the killing and camo."
"So military service is bad?" I pictured Jace in his Marine Corps photo, looking hot and slightly deadly.
"It's not what people want for you, that's all I'm saying. Who is this guy?"
Jace's face flashed to mind as I sat in my bedroom, staring out at the branches of the old Oak that shaded my second-floor window. I saw the bronze skin, the sculpted lips, all the dark lashes fanning over his eyes.
"He's no one," I said. If I told her about Jace, he'd be thrust into a spotlight, even if she shot down the idea of us dating. She'd have him vetted—not the way he already had been, with a background check. She'd vet him for skeletons, past indiscretions, anything that could tarnish my reputation. And what Jace had already told me about his brother suggested it wouldn't go well. Besides, since Jace worked for Zac and me when we were together, it was a short leap to the conclusion that whatever lay between us might have started before the marriage ended. "Never mind."
"I'm calling Ryan's agent," Clarissa said. "You need to be seen together, as soon as possible."
"Why would Ryan agree to this?" I asked, thinking of the jovial guy I'd met on set. Ryan McDonnell seemed like a great guy. But he wasn't my type. Too pretty. Too ... movie star.
