Page 103 of Rebel Romeo

“You almost have it.” McCay whispers, and holds her hand up as though she’s grasping at air. “You almost have the dream. Creating the lead role in a new broadway show that’s bound to be a hit. And you’re going to risk that on what? A relationship with the guy who ripped that same dream out from under you years ago?”

“Did he?” I ask. “Or did you?”

Without blinking, she quickly answers, “We both did. You know it. I know it.” Another pause as she looks at Holden. “And he certainly knows it, too. And you’re going to give him that power all over again.”

“I’m not!”

She takes a step forward and even though instinctively, I want to take a step back, I don’t. I stand my ground as she invades my space and leans forward to whisper in my ear. “You are. It doesn’t matter how talented you are, Kate. You’ll always be that naive freshman. You’ll always be the girl who sold her panties to the quarterback of the football team. And now? You’ll always be the girl who slept with her director to get the lead role on Broadway.”

“Get out!” Holden roars, but McCay merely blinks.

“This isn’t your house, Holden. It’s not your house. And it’s not your party. The only person who can order me out of this house is your father … and we both know he won’t do that.”

The prickle of imminent tears burns in my sinuses. McCay didn’t start off hating me… at least, not exactly. But the longer I stayed in her program and the more I thrived, the more she resented me. It’s a wonder I made it out of undergrad alive, let alone with my theater degree.

Slinging my purse on my shoulder, I push past her and run down the stairs, out the front door. Distantly, Holden calls for me, but I can’t stay at this party anymore. I can’t be Erik Dorsey’s pawn. I can’t be Missy Howl’s mortal enemy. And I don’t have it in me to fight McCay again. I fought that battle for four years in college. I thought I’d be done with her after that, but of course, life isn’t that simple.

Outside, I breathe in the warm, evening air and slump against the brick exterior of Erik Dorsey’s townhouse. Despite the warm evening, a chill shivers down my body.

“You forgot this,” Holden says from beside me. Without asking, he drapes my pashmina around my shoulders.

“Thanks.” I sniffle and swipe away a stray tear from my cheek, hoping he didn’t see it. “You better get back inside.”

Taking a step into me, he edges closer, his hand curving around my waist. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

I snort. “Well I’m not going back in there.”

“Then I guess we’re just going to have to go somewhere else.”

Surprised, I lift my eyes to meet his. “It’s a party for the producers and investors of our show. You have to be there.”

On an exhale, he pins me against the brick wall, his mouth inches from mine, thigh pressed firmly between my legs. “The only place I have to be is with you.” Pausing, his lips brush over mine in a soft kiss that has me whimpering for more. The firm ridge of his erection nestles against my belly as the ache between my legs grows.

“Come on.” He takes my hand and abruptly tugs me off the wall, guiding me down the street.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you to dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“It’s still early and we’re both all dressed up. Besides, the food in there sucked. Honestly, why do rich people think pate is so damn good?”

I look down at my little black dress, stunned at this turn of events. Holden isn’t running away. Hell, I’m not running away. And we are going out together… in public. “So, is this, like um, like a?—”

“A date?” He finishes for me. “You bet your ass it is.”

“Oh my God…” I gape at Holden from overtop a giant bowl of fried ice cream. “You watch a soap opera!”

He rolls his eyes and glides his spoon into another bite of the decadent dessert. “I do not. It’s an Australian drama about four families living in Perth.”

I narrow my eyes at him while licking the back of my spoon. “Does it air in the middle of the day?”

“I don’t know. I’m not from Australia. I watch it on YouTube.”

“Okay, fine… how many surprise babies have there been?”

He clears his throat, avoiding my gaze as he mutters, “Two.”

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