Page 90 of The Best Wrong Move

“Hello, old friend,” he says to a new bottle of bourbon before kissing the crystal tumbler and placing it on the counter. I wrinkle my nose while I watch. He has a distinct charm that I imagine has taken him far in Hollywood, but it seems out of place here on the island. The scene on Oahu is too earthy for someone like him. Like he’s made of plastic, and everything else is organic and raw.

He pulls a second tumbler out and, without asking, pours a heavy shot of bourbon into both glasses. Then he makes his way over to me and hands me the second glass.

We clink the crystal together — I force a smile as we both take a sip.

“Let me just tell you about the pool design, then I’d love to hear more about that script.”

My heart skips a beat. “Sure.” Maybe he really did come to show me the pool and listen to my pitch. “I’d love to hear your plans for this space. Although, I’ve got to be honest, I love the classic lines you have going on here. The bamboo baja shelf, the crisp white furniture. It’s timeless.”

“Or old school and boring,” he says, “depending on how you look at it.”

I mask a sigh. “What do you have in mind?”

“First, have you seen the hot tub?” He whisks me toward the hidden grotto.

I stop my feet from moving any further. “I have. I’ve seen the hot tub, yes.” I fail to hide the annoyance in my voice.

“Let’s go for a swim,” he says. “I haven’t swum here in months. Maybe a year. I keep the water at exactly body temperature, or I suppose Dom does.” He eyeballs the path, and I turn, hoping to see Dom emerging from the greenery.

“Quinton, I’ve had a wonderful time tonight, but I don’t think I’m going to go for a swim.”

Either Quinton is going to listen to my pitch, or I’m going to head home. I don’t feel right being tucked away in a makeshift jungle cove with Dom’s very drunk brother, who seems to have plans for me tonight. I hope he can hear the deeper meaning of my words.I won’t be stripping down with you tonight, or ever.

“Sit with me then.” He takes a seat on one of the lounge chairs, patting the cushion right next to him. Instead of sitting on his chair, I sit on the lounge next to his, raising my brows.

“I’m not going to bite.” He pats the spot next to him again.

I ignore his persistence. “So, what is it that you want to do with this pool?” I didn’t come here to have sex with him. Even if it costs me my dream of having him produce my film. I can find another director who’s interested in making it. If this isn’t meant to be, then it’s not meant to be.

“I thought you wanted to hear what I thought of your script?”

“I thought you wanted to tell me about your pool plans,” I shoot back, hoping he finds the challenge in my voice to be charming, not abrasive.

He laughs, then lies back on his chair, resting his hands behind his head and staring up at the stars. “My brother likes you, you know.”

I look at him, then back at the path that led us here, hoping Dom will appear any moment.Why did I agree to come down here with him in the first place?“I really like him too.”It’s now or never.“He insisted I come here tonight to tell you about the script I wrote. I’ve worked in television for years, but my heart is in film. I’d like you to read it and tell me what you think.”

He sets his tumbler down on the ceramic side bar next to his chair, then turns his head toward me. His eyes eat into mine. I want to look away. Everything in me wants to turn away from his steely gaze, but I force myself to return the stare. He can’t know he has the upper hand and makes me nervous, or he won’t respect me. To him, I’ll just be another budding writer, trying to do anything I can to get his attention. I won’t allow it. He needs to think of me as an equal, a professional. Not just another woman willing to let him do whatever he wants with the promise of making me a star.

Finally, he speaks. “So, give it to me.” He cocks his head to one side.

I recoil in disgust. “Give you what?”

He laughs, throwing his head back against the chaise.

“The pitch, Olivia. Give me your elevator pitch. The thing you practiced in your mirror over and over before meeting me tonight. Give it to me.”

My heart is pounding out of my chest. I want to hate him, and yet there’s this glimmer of relentless charm that goes into everything he says. He’s annoyingly charismatic, while walking the line of being just plain annoying.

“You want my elevator pitch?” I set my glass down next to his, hoping he doesn’t notice my hand is shaking.

“Isn’t that why you followed me down here? To get me alone so you could pitch me your script?”

I feel myself turning red.

“I didn’t get where I am today by being daft, dear.” His smile is warmer than I would like it to be. It makes me feel like I can trust him, when just a moment ago I felt anything but trust toward him. “Come on then, let’s hear it.”

Chapter 63

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