Page 37 of The Sun & Her Burn

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, I didn’t,” I snapped. “If thereisa tape, he filmed it without my consent.”

“Let’s get back on track. Linnea Kai is not some thirsty socialite or greedy actress desperate for fame,” Rachel had said in her blunt way while spooning a ridiculous amount of beef and broccoli into her mouth direct from the carton. “You already shot down the three actresses Mi Cha suggested for exactly those reasons.”

“Sebastian said she wants to be an actress,” I argued. “Apparently, she’s done a few guest appearances on television series and did a commercial for a soda brand.”

Rachel rolled her eyes behind her thick-framed glasses. “Sure, but she’sfromcelebrity. She knows what’s up.”

Chaucer pointed her chopsticks at me when I opened my mouth to argue again. “You know Rach is right. Linnea spent more than a year with Miranda Hildebrand in London, and she was a frequent guest at your parties. I never once saw her swoon over any of the famous and fabulous visitors. She’s not fame-struck, and she knows how the industry works.”

“Miranda was never exactly an A-lister,” I countered, bracing my hands on the countertop to level both women with a coollook. “She might have a sense of things, but going from relative obscurity to being my girlfriend is a bloody huge leap.”

“Agreed,” Bruce said, the only one eating from a plate like he wasn’t an absolute heathen.

I’d hired Bruce Chan when I first bought the Malibu house eight years ago, after coming across his account on social media. He’d blown up for the recipes he shared in short videos and his no-nonsense attitude around life and food. I’d messaged him directly, without passing it by any of my team, and offered him a job as my live-in chef.

He’d agreed immediately, only twenty-six at the time, but already annoyed with his flash-in-the-pan fame. He still made videos, and sometimes I was even a guest star, but he never interacted with his fans and didn’t give a fuck about being popular. He was just a bloke who loved food and wanted to share his passion.

Hiring him was one of the best decisions I’d ever made. He might have been younger than me, but he was essentially misanthropic and grumpy, which suited me just fine. I liked having him around for his quiet energy and stalwart loyalty.

“So we’ll teach her,” Rachel concluded with an eye roll. She may have been in her early fifties, but she acted like a snarky teen, which shouldn’t have been half so charming as it was. “Why else did we hire Mi Cha Lee? We show her the ropes, meticulously plan your relationship timeline, and Bob’s your uncle.”

“You don’t think people would see it as me practically robbing the cradle?” I asked. “She’s twelve years my junior, for fuck’s sake.”

“Welcome to Hollywood,” Rachel said with a wide grin, broccoli stuck in her braces.

She was an absolute mess in her personal life, but Rachel Hoffman was one of the best agents in the business, with onlythe elite of the elite in her clientele. I wouldn’t have traded her for anything.

“It’s bloody depressing that my life has been reduced to this…faking a relationship,” I grumbled, pushing off the counter to continue pacing. I had already worked out for three hours that morning, and I knew Chaucer would literally throw herself across the treadmill if I tried to take another jog.

“Adam,” Chaucer said softly, reaching over to take my hand in both of hers. Her riot of red curls was barely tamed by a huge teal clip at the top of her head, and her wide eyes were soft with sympathy for me. She was what I imagined having a sister might feel like, albeit a younger, annoyingly bossy one. “This doesn’t have to be forever. You don’t even need to marry the girl. A long-term relationship would work just as well.”

“It wouldn’t,” Rachel rebutted instantly. “Weddings in Hollywood are like Get Out Of Jail Free cards. C’mon, people, if we’re going to the trouble of staging this play, let’s make it an award winner, huh?”

“You want me to actually marry a stranger,” I deadpanned, my stomach roiling at the thought.

I had lived without a partner since Savannah left almost ten years ago, and the idea of living with someone now was repugnant. Being the solitary king of my own castle had made it easy to isolate myself from the world. Other than filming and press circuits, I didn’t engage in socializing with my peers in Hollywood.

Or anyone, really, for that matter.

“You know Linnea, Adam, don’t be dramatic,” Chaucer scoffed.

“She was the teenage daughter of my ex-wife’s best friend,” I corrected. “I hardly knew her.”

“She was there that day, though, wasn’t she?” she pushed, as she always fucking did. “On the beach in Cornwall with you and Sebastian.”

Silence descended at the table.

Rachel and Bruce didn’t know the details of my past with Savannah or Sebastian, but they knew I shut down all conversation anytime they were brought up, and that only Chaucer dared to do so.

“She was,” I allowed reluctantly, because I had not stopped thinking of that afternoon since I saw Linnea last night. The awkward girl had grown into a gorgeous woman, but that effortless humour and joy for life had remained. I kept wondering if Sebastian and I would have embraced the easy loveliness of that day without her there to facilitate it.

Rachel shoved her tablet across the counter so that Chaucer, Bruce, and I could see the image on her screen. It was a photo of Linnea and I from the restaurant, our clasped hands raised to my mouth for a kiss. Linnea’s expression was soft with tender shock, and though the lower half of my face was obscured, my eyes looked kinder than they had in a very long time.

“If you need any proof that this will work, just look at the comments,” Rachel suggested, flicking a nail-bitten finger across the screen.

@AdamMeyerzFandom:Finally, he dates someone almost as beautiful as him.

@lowrider98: He can do better than some server *smh*