Page 54 of From LA to London, With Love

“After the whole thing with Vanessa, I told myself I was done with relationships.”

A pain shot through my chest. Since Saturday I’d spent so much time thinking about all the reasons why a relationship with Chris was a bad idea. I’d been trying to convince myself that, if anything was going to happen between us, friends-with-benefits would be ideal, but as soon as he said he was done with relationships, I knew deep down that wasn’t what I wanted.

“But I really think we have something special here, and we should give it a shot. What do you think?”

A warm, gooey feeling replaced the tension in my chest. I looked up at him and smiled.

“To be honest, this whole thing has taken me by surprise. After Elliot came along, I’d also sworn off relationships—I wanted to prioritize him and the new business. I’m not going to lie, I am worried about how we will navigate living in different countries, our careers, your celebrity, and Elliot. But I feel the same way as you. I don’t want to throw it away without trying first.”

Chris squeezed me, a huge smile on his face.

“That makes me so happy to hear that. And you know, I’d never come between you and Elliot, or you and your business. With the different countries, I think we’ll be able to work something out. The great thing about being a well-known actor with an impeccable British accent”—he grinned at me—“is that I’ve been getting a few offers of work over here. I’m locked into doing one more Muscle Man movie next year, but after that, I’ll be a free-range chicken.” The grin disappeared. “But, I don’t want to sugar coat things. Dating a celebrity isn’t always easy. The media will publish all sorts of lies about me, about us—possibly even about Elliot, although I’ll do everything I can to stop that. And as you’ve already seen, when I go out in public I’m often approached by people or photographed or filmed, which can be pretty disruptive. I’ve developed ways of coping with it all. Not going out in public as much as I used to, especially not places where I’m at a higher risk of being swarmed, hiring a bodyguard and trying not to let myself get too upset by what the media says, although I’m still working on that. But it will be hard, and I totally understand if it’s not something you want to go through.”

“I’ve been thinking about that. So far, what I’ve seen hasn’t been a deal-breaker for me. But my top priority will always be Elliot, so if it started to directly affect him, it could become one.” It was a real concern, but not one I wanted to think too deeply about right now.

“Of course. Speaking of you, Elliot, and different countries…Now that we are officially dating, how would you feel about you and Elliot coming to Chicago for Thanksgiving? I’ve got four days off filming, and I’d love you guys to meet my parents and friends and show you around.”

The warm gooey feeling spread even further across my body. “I would love that! We’re in!” I reached up and kissed him. I’d intended it to be a quick kiss, but it immediately morphed into more.

At this rate, we wouldn’t be getting any sleep.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHRIS

“COME ON, we need to get ready. Cynthia paid good money for us to be at this dinner party.”

“What about I stay here and keep the bed warm for you?” Sophie groaned as I pulled her out of the bed. Damn, she was hot. Pouting at me, naked, her hair tousled. She wasn’t making leaving the bedroom easy.

Since the night of the fundraiser two weeks ago, we hadn’t been able to keep our hands off each other. I’d set up a cot at the Castle for Elliot so they could both stay over, but tonight, Sophie’s parents were babysitting him.

“Come on, lazy. You pimped me out to Cynthia. The least you can do is share in my pain. We just need to survive the next few hours, and then we can go back to bed.” While happy that we’d raised so much money for Pride House, I was less than thrilled that Cynthia was the winning bidder. My disappointment had transformed into relief when she proposed a dinner party, rather than an intimate one-on-one dinner, and invited Sophie too. Sophie’s company turned the dinner from an event I’d usually dread to something I was actually looking forward to. I was hoping it would be like hate-watching a terrible show together.

Forty minutes later, showered and clothed, the cold fall air hit us as we left the Castle to walk to Cynthia’s house.

“I’ve been meaning to say, your speech at the fundraiser made quite an impression on the teens. A number of them said it was reassuring to hear that even superheroes struggled sometimes. One mentioned he’d been a victim of revenge porn last year—his ex had sent some of their classmates explicit photos of him—and your story made him feel less alone.” Sophie squeezed my hand, sending a bolt of warmth to my heart. I was so glad my speech had touched the teens. “Thanks again for stepping in at the eleventh hour. I know this is the last thing you want to be doing right now.”

“You know, I’m sure they wouldn’t believe it, but they made a big impression on me as well. So many of them have gone through so much, at such a young age. I had a few teens come up to me at the end of the night with similar stories—photos or private texts shared without their consent—telling me how violated they felt. I’d been nervous talking about it openly, but I’m glad I did. If it helped even one of those kids, it will have been worth it.” I paused. “It also got me thinking about whether I could do it on a broader scale—telling my story publicly and using my platform to advocate for legal change, to stop similar things happening to other people. It would be nice to turn my humiliation into something positive.”

“That sounds like an amazing idea!” Sophie’s eyes glowed in the evening light.

“It’s still early days, but I’m excited about it. And you know what else I’m excited about?”

Sophie looked at me.

I lowered my voice and leaned in. “Peeling off the fucking adorable coat you’re wearing, lifting you onto the dining room table, pulling off those lace panties I just watched you put on and…”

Sophie pulled away, giggling. “Do you want me to come to this dinner or not? Because if you keep going, I’ll either be pulling you into the bushes for a quickie or going back home to have a cold shower. We’re a minute away from Cynthia’s place now.”

I’d nearly made myself need a cold shower as well. I surreptitiously adjusted my pants as we walked up to Cynthia’s door and knocked.

“Welcome! Please come in! Everyone, our guest of honor has arrived,” Cynthia announced loudly to the empty hallway. She ushered us down it and into a large dining room. Almost twenty people, dressed in formal attire, were milling about, sipping champagne and chatting next to a long table covered in a lace cloth. Each China plate on the table was surrounded by silverware—knives, forks and spoons of varying sizes and shapes—and crystal glasses. A waiter entered from another door, holding a tray of finger food. My heart sank. We were in for a long night.

The chatting stopped as soon as we walked in.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I would like you to meet our guest of honor tonight, Chris Trent.” Cynthia walked around the room, introducing me to everyone individually. She rattled off their names, occupations, and titles, as if I’d be impressed that Bernard was Chief Operating Officer at a big bank, or Susan was a partner at a large international law firm.

My jaw clenched as I noticed that each time Cynthia introduced me, she’d either forget to introduce Sophie, who’d then have to introduce herself, or would say as an afterthought, “Oh, and this is Sophie.”