Page 32 of Torrid Passion
“Magnus changed his name to change his luck. It’s in vain. Unlike his father, he’s a failed actor, so he became an Instagram superstar—millions of followers and counting. Everything is staged, carefully crafted. He documents every aspect of his life in photos or video to make his lame existence look exciting. Smoke and mirrors.”
“Incredible,” Loki says.
“So nauseating. Still, his fans gobble it up. They adore him. And those fans are his leverage for brand sponsorships, modeling contracts, and small supporting roles in small budget films as he waits for the big one to land in his lap.”
“Who were the two goons with him?”
“His sidekicks—also sons of Broadway actors. And also failed actors in their own rights.”
“Got it.”
“So you decided to go out with him a second time?”
“I did,” I nod. “He wanted it to just be the two of us so we could get to know each other. I gave him another chance.”
“What happened?”
“After dinner, as we were both waiting for our drivers, he leaned in and suggested I ditch my car. He wanted me to spend the night with him. I explained I’m not that kind of girl. Ignoring my protests, he started getting very touchy. I pushed him away. He was insulted and reminded me he had spent a thousand dollars on a sundae a week ago and he had just dropped another six hundred at Michelin 3-star Eleven Madison Park. The least I could do was show some appreciation by beingnice.”
“What a jerk,” Loki growls.
“I told him some women put out for an expensive meal. I don’t have to. Not when I can buy the restaurant out right—with all the staff—by charging it on my Black American Express card. I hate throwing my family’s weight around, but Magnus had it coming. I had to put him back in his place.”
“Good for you.”
“Magnus didn’t like my response. He accused me of being frigid. Why else would I turn him down? No other woman in the history of planet Earth had ever said no to him. Ever,” I say sarcastically.
“Thank God you didn’t fall for his pathetic act.”
“Magnus is a two-trick pony. He flashes money and he flexes muscle. Women drop their panties. End of story.”
“Yeah, he seems pretty shallow,” Loki agrees.
“In any case, I didn’t have to argue with him much longer. My chauffeured car pulled up, I thanked him for the evening, wished him a good night and I hopped in the backseat.”
“I guess that wasn’t the end of it?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t hear from him for two weeks. Then out of the blue, he texted me, wanting to go out again. The guy is so self-conceded, he didn’t even realize he owed me an apology. Instead of lecturing him, I told him my ex and I had gotten back together and things wereveryserious. He told me I was bullshitting him. I fired off a flurry of photos his way to shut him up.”
“Photos of me?”
“Photos of us.” Loki frowns. “Paris,” I add.
“Ah,” he says when recognition sets in. “You kept those photos?”
“I did,” I say shyly.
He seems to mull over my answer for a beat. “All of them?”
“Yes.”
Loki’s eyes bore into mine and for a few seconds, it’s as if we’re transported back to his last day in Paris. I desperately want to look away, but his magnetic gaze keeps my eyes locked with his.
“Interesting.”
I expected him to say more, but he doesn’t.
“Well, the photos worked,” I say. “Magnus texted me back to let me know he was removing me from his phone and social media because I didn’t have it in my heart to give him another chance. And given I’d chosen another man, it was over between us. He doesn’t fight over a woman. It’s not worth his time.”
