Page 32 of One Time in Paris
But Isla looked so flustered that his throat tightened, and he moved nearer to her. “You all right?”
She didn’t accept the offer of his help, however subtle it was, and instead directed her attention to Boyd. “Mr. Boyd, I’m Isla Scott. I believe there’s been a mistake. I’ve already made all the arrangements with Kyle Winnick to?—”
“There’s no mistake.” Boyd gave her a measured smile, then slipped the tie from his wrist and tied his long gray hair back behind his neck. “Antony had casting in London work out all the details with Tomas Meyer’s agent yesterday. It’s a fantastic idea—he’s got a half a million followers on Instagram alone.”
Isla stiffened, her gaze flicking between Boyd and Callum.
Aiden still wasn’t completely following, but the situation was starting to grow a bit clearer. Kyle came down from the trailer just then, and Aiden greeted him with a nod before Kyle said, “Excuse me, I’m just trying to clarify. Are you saying you don’t need me here for the role of Isla’s boyfriend?”
“No, the production team has decided to place Tomas in that role. But, actually, we’d still like for you to remain—perhaps as Isla’s best friend? It could make for an interesting dynamic,” Boyd said, slipping his hands into the back pockets of his jeans.
Beside him, Isla’s hands were in tight fists, her knuckles white. She threw another look back at Davy, then at Callum, then back at Boyd.
Aiden sensed an explosion of anger coming. He recognized that darkening expression on her face. “Excuse us for a second.” Grabbing her by the elbow, he pulled her back toward the trailer where Davy stood. He offered Davy and the man beside her an apologetic look as he shoved her past the door and then shut it behind them.
“Sit,” he said in a firm voice.
To his surprise, Isla did as he’d directed. She settled onto the trailer’s sofa, hands over her face, and Aiden went over to the fridge. He found a case of water bottles and yanked one free, then brought it to her.
“Thank you,” she said, then lifted raw, furious eyes at him. “I’m going to murder my brother.”
She uncapped the bottle and sipped it, her shoulders heavy with a strangled breath.
“Care to tell me what happened?”
“You. This is your fault.” Isla glared at him. "You couldn’t just help me on this. It was a tidy little job ...host a few episodes in a few—apparently ridiculously boring—Parises, then move on with my life. But, no. You had to suggest a couple would be more interesting to follow as a host. And Antony and Davy loved the idea. Except now my idiot brother has apparently decided to interfere with whom I chose to play my boyfriend?—”
“Kyle?” Aiden asked.
She nodded. “Yes. Which was fine. I already told Davy—no public displays of affection. But that wasn’t good enough for Callum. He dug into my past and pulled out an old ex of mine, dragged him into it.”
Ah.That must be who the mysterious Tomas was.
“The fellow who looks like a rugby player?”
“Yes, if rugby players had perfect teeth, six-pack abs, and walked the catwalk for Versace in their downtime.” Isla shook her head.
Right.
That would be the type of man Isla Scott dated. Look at her. She was fun and flirtatious. She had pink streaks on the underside of her hair and a golden tan that spoke to her days on the sun-drenched beaches of Costa Rica. And Aiden had seen her in those bikinis she wore.
What the hell am I doing?
He blinked, cutting the thought off, then cleared his throat. “Did things end on a bad note with Tomas?”
“No, no, that’s not it.” Isla combed her fingers through her hair, a defeated look on her face. “It just ended. I was moving to Costa Rica. He was staying in London. There wasn’t enough there to keep us together, really.” She took another sip of water. “But that’s not the point. Callum had no right to interfere.”
“Why did he?”
She avoided his gaze. “I don’t know. Because he was apparently that deeply uncomfortable with the thought of me pretending to date Kyle on a show.” Their gazes held for an awkward moment.
Not surprising.
And also further evidence of how protective Callum was of Isla—and his neatly ordered relationships.
Isla tore her eyes from his. “And because he’s an arsehole.”
“Well, maybe not an arsehole. You know how Callum is. For years, you were the center of his universe. The only person he really gave two shites about.”
