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“Aside from a career perspective, do you truly care about sharing this love story with the world? I think they may be looking for someone who has a more outward romantic side,” I ask, trying not to sound too jaded.
“Well, how do you suggest I change people’s perception of me to appear more romantic?” he asks with an exasperated tone.
“Well, first, do you even remember how to be romantic? I assume you’ve been in love at some point in your life.” I’ve hit a nerve. His face shuts down, and he turns to look over his shoulder.
After a deep breath, causing his broad shoulder to rise and fall, he turns back to me. “It’s not about real love. It’s about manufactured love. I have learned very few people can notice a difference. At least not when watching movies or even following someone’s personal life.”
“And you think you could fool people with your manufactured love approach?” I ask with disbelief.
He smirks to himself while placing his coffee on thetable to turn his body toward me. He places his arm behind me and leans slightly forward. His dark brown eyes move from my eyes to my lips. I lick them without reason as his gaze moves back to my eyes again. Without breaking eye contact, his fingers graze mine as he places my drink on the table next to his, then gently takes my hand, and his thumb begins soft strokes over the back of it.
The connection sets my body on fire, and I struggle to remember where we are or what a truly dislikable person Henry is when he speaks. Which reminds me of his mouth just as he opens it slightly to say my name in a hushed, seductive tone, “Lucy.”
My heart begins to race as my brain tries desperately to maintain composure. He raises a hand to my cheek while the other continues to hold mine. With a soft caress, he moves my face to the side and breaks our eye contact only to gain better access to my ear. He leans in closer, and as I look around to the other customers no one pays us any attention, but why would they? We appear to be a normal couple cuddling in the corner.
Then, he begins to speak, only to me, at a whisper’s volume but with a deep and certain tone, “In vain have I struggled.”My heart stops. To hear the words I have replayed over and over in their mind, being spoken directly to me, this must be a dream.“It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed.”I lean closer to him as his lips brush the top of my ear before he pulls back. Strong fingers under my chin, guiding my face back to his, but this time closer than we’ve ever been before. Our lips are a moment away from each other. Those burning eyes, nowdarker, speak directly to my soul.“You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”
I’m breathing again, at a more rapid pace than I would prefer to do in public. His hand drops from my chin as the other releases mine as he grabs his coffee, and smirks before taking a drink.
“Feel confident in my abilities now, Lucy?”
Well, I certainly can’t claim to be unaffected. He must notice the flush on my face, but I need to play it cool, if only a little.
“I’m appreciative that you stopped before telling me all the reasons why I am not good enough for you.” A nervous laugh escapes me. I’m stalling, trying to regain my senses.
His expression is all business as he asks again, “You didn’t answer my question. Have you changed your mind on my ability to manufacture the romance needed for this film?”
“Yes, I suppose you would be the right person to direct it.” I do not want to elaborate and tell him how unbelievably sexy that was. Also, I don’t want this adaptation to be poorly made. The anguish readers feel when their favorite book is mangled in its transition to the big screen is something I don’t want forPride and Prejudice.
Yes, that’s the only reason, not how he left me breathless.
“Then, tell me. I can’t possibly demonstrate my talents to every Jane Austen fan, and quite frankly, I do not want to. How can I win their approval?”
Why do I feel my lips curling up into a small smile when I hear he doesn’t want to whisper in other’s ears? Iknow why, because that was an experience I will never forget and it’s only for me.
“What if you were to lean into the social media aspect the production company is looking for?”
“I don’t have social media,” he says with absolute resolution. There is the stubborn man I know.
“Yes, I know,” I say with a pointed look. “But you can get one and create a new image for yourself. Right now the only thing the public knows about your life after your last movie is the photos of your nights out on the town. Perhaps show them more. Or manufacture a different image.”
“How would that make me romantic?” This man clearly doesn’t understand the potential of social media.
“You don’t have to necessarily be romantic. Just give yourself some depth. You can just post a couple photos so people can know another side of you. They don’t need to be long or have any captions, for that matter, just something other than the paparazzi shots. Simple things, like your morning coffee, making dinner with your sons, or a book you are currently reading. Maybe even a photo ofPride and Prejudiceon your nightstand could slip in there. But not at first that would be too obvious. It could easily be done without even posting your face. Give the public a glimpse into a more wholesome and possibly romantic side of Henry Brooks, even if it is manufactured.”
“Hmm.. Let’s get a professional opinion.” He grabs his phone, taps it quickly, and holds it to his ear. “Hi Mary, it’s Henry Brooks. Is Mark available? Yes, it’s urgent… Thank you.” He looks around the coffee shop to check that no one is watching but turns to me and relays the social media plan into the phone in a hushed tone.
When he puts the phone down, he smiles up at me. “Mark, my agent, thinks it might work.”
He pulls out a notepad and pen from the bag I didn’t realize was sitting behind him. With his pen in hand, he asks, “Will you start over with the list of pictures I’ll need to post?”
“Well, first, you’ll need to get an account.”
“Oh, should we do that first?” he asks.
“Not exactly, let’s get the list together, then Oliver and Finn could probably assist with the account setup later. I’m not sure how to go about verifying your accounts, but I’d bet Mia would.”
“All right.” Before I can start listing photo ideas, he leans closer and says, “Thank you. I wasn’t feeling optimistic this morning, but I knew if anyone could help, it would be you.”
