Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 123873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 619(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 619(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Smoothing the coat of his tuxedo, he leaned over to hiss to Drake. “What if he doesn’t show?”
“Then I will personally airdrop you on that frozen circle of hell out in the middle of the ocean,” Drake hissed back, and pressed a hand to the small of his back. “Pay attention to the cameras. Turn. Smile. Effortless pose. Turn again.”
“I hate this part of it,” he muttered, even as he dutifully turned, presented himself for the cameras, smiled the way he was supposed to, moving almost on auto-pilot.
“Don’t let them hear you say that,” Drake sing-songed under his breath, even as he caught Brendan’s arm and steered him away from the main throng of reporters cornering attendees for red carpet photo opportunities on their way into the main hall.
Brendan caught a few calls of his name, requests for comment on this and that, but he pretended to conveniently not hear them, keeping close to Drake. He felt like a raw nerve right now, people shrilling at him, grating on him, and he needed to calm down.
And stop scanning the crowd for Cillian.
Brendan didn’t see him…anywhere. A few of the other actors and actresses from the film, the production manager, some other high-level crew, but…
Not Cillian.
Maybe he really had just…returned to his strange little world, never to return.
When Brendan caught sight of Sophie, though, energetic and bright in a vivid red satin dress, she bounced up on the toes of her high heels and shouted, “Brendan!” absolutely shamelessly, waving wildly. She framed her hands around her mouth and shouted louder, “Call me!”
He blinked, then pulled away from Drake—well, more dragged Drake with him, since the damned man wouldn’t let go of his arm. Brendan twisted through the crowd until he caught up with Sophie.
“Hey,” he said. “One, I don’t have your number. Two, have you seen Cillian?”
“Hm?” Sophie arched her brows almost too innocently. “Seen who?”
“Sophie,” Brendan begged, and she smiled sweetly, patting his arm.
“He’s okay,” she said. “You’ve really been worried, haven’t you?”
“…you have no idea.” He exhaled roughly. “You’ve seen him recently…? Is he coming tonight?”
“Don’t know,” she said. Something troubled flickered across her face, before she smiled brightly again. “He said he had to think about a few things first.”
“Okay.” Brendan nodded. “Okay. If you see him, will you tell him I’m looking for him?”
“Of course!” she chirped—before Drake gave Brendan’s arm another tug.
“Feel better now? You know he’s alive, at least.”
“Yeah,” Brendan said, but his throat was still chalky ash.
And he almost couldn’t find his voice as, just before the entrance to the presentation hall, a reporter managed to skitter herself into his path, looking up at him with a breathless, eager smile.
“Brendan? Ally Lakes, with VAM! News.” She angled her microphone toward him. “Is it true that neither you nor Cillian Tell have accepted any new projects since your breakup several months ago? Care to comment about the end of your relationship?”
Brendan’s tongue froze. Drake leaned around him. “No comment,” he said. “No comment at all.”
“No.” Brendan found himself again, and shook his head. “Comment. Please—if I’m lucky enough to win an award tonight, please pay attention to my speech. It’ll all come clear ther—ow.”
Drake nearly yanked Brendan off his feet, dragging him around the reporter and into the doorway, joining the many throngs of the glittering and the beautiful, the statuesque and the stately, in milling among the rows of seats.
“I can’t believe I’m about to let you do this,” Drake hissed. “But you can at least not talk to reporters about it.”
“Why are you so agitated? They’re all going to see it anyway.”
“Reputation management. If this falls flat, I’m the one who has to suppress the Twitter trends about you getting dumped.”
“You worry too much about things like that.” Brendan scanned the crowd inside the room, the great hall massive and stretching for tiers down to the main presentation stage. He let Drake guide him toward their assigned seats. “I really don’t care if this is embarrassing, Drake. It needs to be d—”
He broke off as, across the room, he caught sight of Newcomb, stepping in through the lower entrance with a slender, beautiful woman on his arm. Hatred rose up inside him to burn his blood, turn it to sour vile acid, but he just barely held it in.
That bastard.
The nerve of him, to show his face somewhere like this.
Brendan tore his gaze away, though, as Drake dragged him to their seats. “You are such a mom tonight,” Brendan muttered as Drake practically shoved him down into his seat, then proceeded to smooth Brendan’s collar.
“Tonight?” Drake retorted. “At this point signing a contract with a client just means I’m adopting another oversized baby. Including cleaning up all your shit.”
“Goo goo ga ga,” Brendan replied, earning him a smack on the arm.
“Shut up, you absolute sarcastic fuck. Let’s get this hell of a night over with. I hate these shows almost as much as I hate you.”