Page 25 of Torrid Passion
“Cheeky Kyla,” I laugh. “Are you working?”
“I’ve been helping Stella and Hayden. They even pay me,” she grins. “When I’m not assisting my cousins, I’m doodling with a few script ideas.”
“For TV or film?”
“TV for now. Daddy isn’t too happy because he’s eager for me to join the family business.”
“Makes sense,” I nod. “Knowing you, I bet you have other plans.”
“Am I an open book to you?” she laughs.
“Not at all.”Honestly, after tonight, you’re a mystery. One I’d love to unravel.“I’ve known you a long time. You could easily be another rich girl with a pretty face who bats her eyelashes and Daddy awards her the corner office upon graduation along with a big fat pay check and bonus to bulge an already fat bank account.” I pause. “The Kyla I know would never take the easy road. You’ve always made it a point to stand on your own… even if your family is like Goliath in this town. I’ve always admired that about you.”
“Thanks for saying that,” she blushes before brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
“So where does the great Kyla O’Keeffe go from here?” I tease.
“I really love what’s going on at UTV. Their shows are so cutting edge and creative.”
“I should put you in touch with Isobel.”
“Rory’s wife?”
I nod. “She’s the one behind their award-winning shows. She has a great eye for a winning script.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she says.
I tap the tip of her nose with my finger. “I want to.”
For a few long seconds we lock eyes together, smiling at each other like fools.
Kyla, Kyla, Kyla—
“Look at the loving couple,” a voice sneers, approaching our table. “If it isn’t sweet little Kyla, the Hollywood princess.” A tall athletic blond is now standing in front of us. “The girl who has more power in her pinkie finger than everybody in this room.” The blond opens his arms wide and does a three-sixty.
I look up and meet a pair of icy blue eyes staring coldly at Kyla.
“Get lost,” she grumbles.
“Nope. I kind of like it here,” the blond says, caressing the white tablecloth. “I get to witness your betrayal with my own eyes.”
Who the hell is this asshole? And who are those two goofy looking idiots behind him?
The stranger—dressed head-to-toe in Gucci designer wear—is flanked by two white guys trying really hard to look hood with their menacing stance and squinted eyes. The Louis Vuitton man bag, the Gucci baseball caps and the matching Balenciaga exclusive Triple S sneakers—which cost nearly fifteen hundred a pop—betray them. Yeah, they’re more Beverly Hills than Compton.
My eyes dart to Kyla. She’s stiff as a board. “Who’s this?” I ask.
“I’m herexboyfriend—”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Magnus,” Kyla counters. “You were never my boyfriend.”
Magnus? Yeah, he looks like a prize.
Magnus ignores her and focuses on me. He gives me an unimpressed onceover. I swear I read disgust in his gaze.
What the fuck?
“You have a problem?” I demand.
