Entangled (A Tryst Novel) Read online

  I heave in a deep, refreshing breath, peering up at the sky, thinking that Blake’s plane must have landed already. My feet pause a beat with the need to pull out my phone. As swiftly as the thought comes, I shake it off, forcing one foot in front of the other instead, heading for the city park down the block. I will not call him.

  The hustle and bustle of the Los Angeles high street is in full force, and although being outside feels nice, the solitude of the park is more appealing with each step.

  I hit the sidewalk between large fields of grass with elm trees dispersed evenly throughout. I think about my mind-freeing mission as I proceed, wondering if jogging while in my regular clothes would look weird. Would people assume I was just wearing inappropriate attire for a run, or will they think I’m running from a mugger?

  The latter wins in my mind, and I chuckle as I decide I’ll walk a loop around the park and then head back home. Just a stroll, I tell myself, wishing I had my backpack full of textbooks. Studying in the sunshine is proving to be more and more appealing as I watch other lazy students, or, more likely, handfuls of unemployed actors, spread out on blankets absorbing the rays of sunshine.

  As I make it halfway into the depths of the park I think over the many ways to conquer my separation issue with Blake. What am I nervous about? That he’ll never come back? That he’ll meet someone else?

  As absurd as those worries feel on the surface, to me, if I dig a bit deeper, they seem quite plausible. I shake my head, realizing this is why love is a risk.

  I know Blake loves me.

  This thought instantly makes me feel better. I file it away in my brain for emergencies, telling myself when in doubt, remember that, and only that.

  I nod as I walk alone, loving the feeling of the sunshine warming the cotton of my tank top. With a feeling of mild rejuvenation I decide that I’ll call Jennifer and Vanessa this weekend. Girl time is long overdue. I will also get that drink with Tucker and his new boyfriend. I need a life outside of Blake, and that’s a fact.

  “Stunning as ever, bella. I think the fates have it in for us.”

  The thick, heart-melting Italian accent sounds off to my far right, stopping me dead in my tracks. I don’t have to see whom I happen to run into during my afternoon stroll. I just know.

  What are the chances?

  Chapter 7

  Skyler

  I turn my body to see that Giovanni Vigilucci’s electric eyes, which clash so dramatically with his dark features, are already on me. He’s lying on top of a blanket on the grass, a book in hand.

  I know his brooding demeanor should make me nervous, but it isn’t his looks that knock me off balance, and because of this, it’s easy for me to speak my mind in his presence.

  “Gio, are you following me?”

  “I am not, but what if I was? This is quite the fortunate meeting, don’t you think?” He snaps the book in his hands shut, and smiles widely. I involuntarily smile back.

  “What do you want, Gio?” I ask, tilting my head to the side.

  He pats the spot on his blanket next to him. “Join me. You need to relax.”

  I wrinkle my nose, folding my arms over my chest. “What makes you think I need to relax?”

  He rolls his eyes and waves his hand as only an Italian would: His strokes are broad and enchanting. “Your shoulders, they are practically up at your ears. Now sit, bella.”

  I grumble but do as I’m told, bringing my knees to my chest the moment my ass hits the blanket, while he rests his head on his hand as he scrutinizes me. He has no shame; he doesn’t try hiding his smile.

  I don’t need to ask if he’s laughing at me. I know he is.

  “Feel better?” he asks.

  I shoot him a mocking glare, telling him I will not let him get the best of me.

  “Much. Are you sure you aren’t here to stalk me?”

  His deep laughter reveals itself again. “For heaven’s sake, no! Goodness gracious, you need to relax in more ways than one. Can’t we be friends? I just want us to be friends.”

  My stomach stirs with a memory. Wasn’t the last time I heard that when I was trying to pursue my last male friendship? And now that sex maniac is my boyfriend.

  I examine Gio’s face for a sign of how to take the situation and see no ill intent in the boyish crinkles around his eyes. Actually, there’s nothing salacious or threatening about his look in the slightest. However, I can’t help the want to be honest.

  “I’ve never been good at the friends thing.”

  His long, masculine fingers stroke his jaw. “Well, you don’t have to worry about me, bella. I think you should just get used to how I am. Your world is about to turn upside-down. I am going to be the bestest friend you have.” He clicks his tongue proudly, and that gravity-defying feeling of losing control of my life bottoms out in my gut.

  I squint, more annoyed than anything. “Why would that happen?”

  “Because I am going to be the cause of it, and I am not ashamed.” I open my mouth to protest, but he instantly displays this bewildering look of nonchalance, as if scolding me without saying a word, while at the same time remaining beyond cool. “I mean, because I can’t wait to take your photo, and everyone will want to take your photo after I am through with you. Don’t be mad.”

  “Who said I’d even let you do that?”

  His thick brows scrunch together, bemused and maybe even a little angry. “We made a deal.”

  I chew my bottom lip, tilting my head more as I reply with a boldness I have recently become acquainted with, since encountering this man. “Where’s my check?”

  The heat behind his eyes vanishes and is softened by admiration. His smile this time feels like a reward, and a relief.

  “When I take your picture again, I will give you the check.”

  I roll my eyes, falling back onto the blanket. I ignore that I can feel Gio’s eyes all over my body, and instead turn my head toward him, my voice soft. “Why do you want to take my picture, Gio? You think it’s so funny I’m in over my head. If I told you you were right, would you stop being so mean to me about it? Maybe I’d be more open to it if you didn’t make me feel so small.”

  If I’m not mistaken, a rosy hue appears on Gio’s dark, stubbly, high cheekbones.

  Have I said something wrong?

  Gio licks his bottom lip as he distracts himself, pushing his book off to the side.

  “The last thing I want to do is overwhelm you,” he says almost bashfully.

  I don’t know why, but I can’t help myself. A loud belt of laughter escapes me, and it feels so good.

  I sputter between giggles. “Gio, you’re the most overwhelming, overtly sexual, Italian man I have ever met. It’s hard for you not to be overwhelming. Just be nicer to me, and answer my question.”

  You’d think he might gloat or revel in my outburst, but instead, something far better occurs.

  I think I see Gio slouch for the first time, and it’s not because he looks defeated, but for once, the straight-as-an-arrow posture is disregarded, and he . . . relaxes. Even the corners of his mouth loosen, making him not only more attractive, but more likable. I realize his hair looks more unkempt and windblown being open to the elements, and for a moment he looks like some kid I might see on my college campus.

  I like this look on Gio immediately. It must be hard being Giovanni Vigilucci 24/7.

  “Look who’s really the one who needed to relax? Less stiff suits you, too, Gio.”

  His lips twitch, and he ignores my comment and sinks his teeth into the meat of the conversation. “You’re an emotional person even though you might not speak your feelings. Personally, I think your face exposes those emotions in such a way that the camera won’t be able to get enough.”

  That’s the reason?

  I want to speak. I want to question what it all means. It’s almost too poetic an
answer for me to accept.

  As if sensing my squirming resolve, he gifts me with another smile that makes me feel less afraid, and actually comfortable, and I’m drawn to wanting to know more about him. I’m about to ask him personal questions, anything to figure out more about this man, because it only seems fair. However, he begins gathering his things.

  I go wide-eyed, feeling bereft as I watch him make to leave. “Gio, what are you doing? We just started talking.”

  He grabs for his sunglasses next to his head that I didn’t notice before. “At first you wanted to be as far away from me as possible, and now you want me to stay?”

  He’s putting words in my mouth, and implying too much, but I let it go, thinking I’m going to need to pick my battles with this man, and this one isn’t worth it.

  “You can’t just give me such a radical answer and leave. Let’s talk?” I question, rather than demand.

  His lips twitch with a secret smile they seem reluctant to accept.

  I continue, “You can’t just bombard me with your cryptic-ness, and then not allow me to pick your brain for a bit.”

  “Will you fulfill your end of our deal?”

  I chew my lip. I can tell he knows, just based on the amount of pride I can’t help but display, that I’m a person of my word, but that’s beside the point. This man wants a verbal contract. He doesn’t want his time wasted. I think I respect that.

  “Yes.” I’m crisp and to the point.

  “Then I’m all yours.” He relaxes back into the blanket, sliding his black Ray-Bans over his face. Although I’m delighted that his slouch and enchanting look remain, I hate that I can’t see his eyes. His eyes clue me in to what he might be thinking.

  Regardless, I feel accomplished and giddy, and I can’t figure out how I got here. I feel victorious; however, a part of me suspects Gio is allowing me to win.

  I shake off the thought. It doesn’t matter.

  “How old are you?” I ask.

  “Twenty-nine,” he answers, letting me probe him with twenty questions, and I find this game the most exciting thing in a while.

  “Do you have brothers and sisters?”

  The corners of his mouth stretch wide. “One brother. I’m the oldest.”

  I nod. We sit there for a while. He asks me questions, too. We spend the afternoon each trying to get grip on who the other person is.

  I need this.

  BLAKE

  I twirl the straw in my rum and coke, peering up at the mahogany clock face above the bar in the hotel lobby.

  I’ve got fifteen minutes.

  I turn to my right, thinking about heading to my room to call Skyler early. Today was long and rough. I fumbled through PR questions as we met with our touring manager for the promo run. Tomorrow will be the day everything gets rolled out. Today was just the practice run, and I’m already exhausted.

  I toss the straw aside, thinking of Skyler and her brilliance.

  The only thing that helped me get through the day was reading the book Skyler had snuck into my backpack; the book that I’ll be making a movie based on. It helped immensely with random character questions, and also helping me connect with a character I’m going to be very soon.

  Kathryn Caraway, on the other hand, owned it. She dominated it in each and every way, and made me look like a rookie—which I guess I am.

  I’ve never had to do press panels. Only announcements for major brand campaigns, but I never had to open my mouth. I have always been a pretty face, not a voice.

  Kathryn handled it with ease and had maybe too much finesse when discussing her career choices and likeness for the movie. She was so good at answering the practice questions, or devouring the material, that I wondered if she had read the book at all, and if not, she was pulling it off like a pro.

  “Night cap, Blake?”

  Speak of the devil.

  Kathryn’s voice is smooth, like melting butter, and sweeter than the average girl, but it complements her feminine features. Her petite body slides itself onto a bar stool next to me as she smoothes out her skirt.

  “Maybe. Just some drinks to blow off some steam. Today was rough,” I reply.

  She signals the bartender for a glass of wine, and pushes a wavy pale piece of hair behind her ear. “You’ll get used to it. I know you think you handled today poorly, but I think you did perfect. I bet you once the camera and the questions become real, it’ll come naturally. It has to.”

  I nod, thinking I like Kathryn. She was easy to talk to during our flight and fun to run lines with during PR breaks today, and right now she is leveling me out.

  “Are you ready for Monday?” she asks, sipping her dark red wine, eyes bright.

  “Filming? Yeah, of course. I’d prefer that over this question/interview bullshit.”

  She laughs. It’s loud and a little overbearing in contrast to her dainty frame. I flinch at the sound, but sort of like that it’s not perfect. It makes me less nervous, and makes her more human. Her eyes linger inappropriately. I’m not oblivious. I never have been. I usually appreciate the doting, but for now, I pretend it isn’t happening.

  “Where’s Josh?” she asks, finishing off her glass.

  “He went up to his room not too long ago. We have the MTV interview at eight a.m.”

  Kathryn nods, playing with the rim of her wine glass. “If you can’t sleep, we could run through more lines, if you want?” She purrs.

  My brows scrunch up. I shake my head and peer back up at the clock, thinking saved by the bell.

  “Actually, the truth is I’m gonna have to pass. I’m just biding my time, and now I can finally head up to my room.”

  Her head whips around to watch me sliding off my bar stool as I swing back the last of my drink.

  “Biding your time?” she questions curiously.

  I grin wide, knowing I’ll be taking great pride in my next words. “Yeah, I have this pact with my girlfriend that I call her at eight p.m. Pacific time. That would be eleven here in New York. I finally get to give her a call.”

  Kathryn’s mouth twitches in admiration, and I’m a bit surprised by the reaction. “You seem more excited to call her rather than obligated.”

  I’m so instantly relaxed by the fact the time has finally reached eleven that I pull my white dress shirt free from my slacks. The day is done. I chuckle at Kathryn’s question.

  “Obligated? No, not at all. I miss her. She was the one who made the plan, but I’d never tell her I’d been having separation anxiety more than her. She’s busy at UCLA, and we don’t want to suffocate each other, so we agreed on calling at night during this trip.”

  Not to mention after talking to Josh, I really don’t want to distract Skyler any more than I already do.

  Kathryn’s giggles are patronizing. “You seem like a dumbstruck kid in love, Blake. You’re all fidgety and smiley.”

  I lift a shoulder of nonchalance. “Maybe I am.”

  She nods through the statement, and her eyes that hinted at spice seem to calm into sweetness. “That’s cute. You love your girlfriend. I wish my boyfriend would be as excited to talk to me.”

  I take a deep breath, wondering if I want to get into that conversation. I barely know the woman. I’ll try and make this brief. Time is ticking.

  “I’m sure he cares. Maybe you should tell him that you miss him. Sometimes you’d be surprised how much the other person wants to hear it before confessing it themselves.”

  She sits up straight, revealing a wicked smile that doesn’t meet her eyes. “Have you told your girlfriend how much you miss her?”

  The corners of my mouth stretch wide. “I’m about to.”

  “She’s a lucky girl.”

  I shrug again. “Maybe it’s the other way around.”

  There is an awkward pause before I speak again, and I can’t seem to get my bea
rings on who or what Kathryn Caraway wants, or is like, as I watch her wilt back into her seat. I can’t help myself. Dammit.

  “Are you okay, Kathryn?”

  She perks up. “I’m fine. I’m sorry if I come on strong. I don’t mean to.”

  Maybe professional relationships are important, but for now, I’ll leave that task for tomorrow.

  “No worries. Good night, Kathryn.”

  The left corner of her mouth lifts. “Go call your girl. Good night, Blake.”

  ***

  I stroll to the elevator and pull out my cell phone. 11:05pm.

  Now alone, I can’t help myself any longer as I step inside the elevator and press for the twenty-second floor for my hotel room and quickly dial Skyler’s number.

  “Blake!” she yelps after the second ring.

  “Babe!” I shout back, reveling in her sweet voice that has me easily picturing her smile.

  “How was your first day of . . . stuff?”

  I let out a few laughs at her wording. “The ‘stuff’ went . . . okay. I stumbled here and there. I miss you.”

  “Don’t lie. I know the big-city lights and glamorous woman are keeping you busy,” she chides.

  The elevator doors swing open, and I head down the barren hallway to my room.

  “No way. I miss you every moment. I may be a pretty face, but I don’t know if I have it in me to talk the talk. I just want to start the job, ya know? Acting. Filming.”

  “I can’t imagine being in front of cameras in general, but I know you’ll handle it with your endless charm.”

  “Endless charm, eh?”

  She sighs, and my heart sings at the sound. “I miss you. I know you only left this morning, but I hate that I have to wait days to see you. When you start filming, at least you won’t be far from home.”

  I chew the inside of my cheek, remembering what Josh had said earlier about being honest. Is now the time to tell her I’ll be splitting up my time being on location and in LA? I heave in a deep breath, knowing that in person is better. I can gauge her reaction better. I will tell her everything when I get home, and I mean everything.