Page 18 of The Sun & Her Burn (Impossible Universe Trilogy #2)

LINNEA

A dam sat behind a palatial desk wearing a bespoke navy-blue suit that perfectly complemented his golden-haired handsomeness. His expression was stony, his hands clasped over the leather folio on the tabletop, as if he were an executive about to discipline unruly employees.

It was ridiculously attractive, and I found myself rubbing my thighs together as I sat quietly in my seat across from him.

The room was crowded with Adam’s manager, agent, lawyer, and crisis management representative alongside Sebastian’s agent and lawyer, both of whom had graciously agreed to represent me.

Even though the agreement was about me, I had yet to say a word the entire meeting.

The legalese and structure of outings, leaks to the press, and scheduled interviews being arranged were well above my pay grade.

Adam hadn’t looked at me once.

Sebastian, on the other hand, had reached for the arm of my chair and dragged it across the carpet to be closer to him the moment the teams started going at it.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked me quietly now, leaning closer to whisper.

“Like I’m hungry because I forgot to eat breakfast after surfing this morning,” I whispered back. “And like these guys need to relax a little bit. We don’t need every single thing scheduled. It’ll be too obvious.”

Sebastian nodded as he slid his arm along the back of my chair, his fingers tangling gently in the ends of my hair.

“Adam,” he said, and the word had the same effect as a bomb, silencing everyone at once.

Adam, who had done an amazing job of ignoring us both, finally looked over with a coolly raised brow.

“Linnea thinks this is overkill, and I have to agree,” Seb continued, gesturing to the women in the room who all had their calendars pulled up on their phones. “There needs to be some spontaneity and casualness to your relationship, or the press will sniff out the lie.”

“There will be rumours that she’s a beard,” Mi Cha Lee agreed. “But they’ll be drowned out by the narrative of the love story.”

“It won’t be a convincing love story if you plan to act like this when you take her on a fucking date,” Sebastian snapped.

And suddenly, the tension in the room was a palpable pressure on my chest.

I wasn’t the only one who looked between the only two men in the room with wide eyes.

Adam’s jaw clenched. “Why don’t you leave that up to me, mate?”

Mate , he said.

Like an insult.

Mostly because everyone there knew they were not mates anymore.

They were almost strangers except for the pile of baggage sitting in one corner of the room.

“He’s right,” I spoke up, sitting straighter in my chair. “On both counts. In every photo or interview you’ve given for years, you look like some kind of Byronic hero. The brooding and pouting are sexy, sure, but it’s not very fitting for a man who is newly head over heels in love.”

Adam’s scowl deepened. “I’m a rather accomplished actor, if you both did not know. I think I can manage.”

“And,” I continued as if he hadn’t spoken.

“I don’t think we need all our dates planned out.

Remember what you promised me at Affaire the other day?

We might not be dating, but we are about to have a relationship that will last for some time…

” I looked at his team for confirmation because we hadn’t actually discussed the longevity of the contract yet.

“Three years,” Mi Cha and his manager, Chaucer, said at the same time.

I swallowed thickly, rocked by the commitment.

“Three years,” I echoed. “We are going to be living together for most of that time. I won’t be roommates with someone who wears a suit to breakfast.”

Chaucer and Rachel Hoffman hid their grins behind their hands, but Sebastian had the audacity to chuckle at my dig.

I beamed at him and then turned it back on Adam, who was staring at me with unnerving intensity.

“I understand attending premiers with you, and I’m happy to do that.

Some dinner dates at celebrity hot spots, sure.

But otherwise, I think we can agree on a set number of dates per week, and we see how we feel at the time about what we want to do. ”

“It should be public,” Rachel protested. “That’s the point of this whole charade.”

“If she moves in within three months, they won’t need to be seen out together as much,” Mali Issah, my new agent, countered for me.

“Premiers and events, the odd dinner should be good enough. People will be buzzing about the new girl in town, and it will do just as much for Adam’s reputation as it will for Linnea’s burgeoning career as an actress. ”

“That’s what I thought,” I said with a hint of smugness just to watch Adam glower at me. Riling him up was shockingly entertaining. “And I call dibs on our first date.”

“Dibs?” Adam echoed, deadpan.

I nodded curtly. “Dibs. It will be public, but I get to plan it.” When he remained silent for a moment, I added, “Aren’t you curious , Adam?”

If I hadn’t been looking closely enough, I might not have noticed the twitch of his mouth as he fought a smile.

“Fine,” he agreed. “But I want us to get married.”

The air whooshed out of my mouth so hard, I started to choke on it.

Sebastian dropped his hand to my back and rubbed my spine as I recovered.

“You didn’t have to drop it like that,” Sebastian groused.

Adam only smiled slightly, proud that he got me back for my callback to our conversation at Affaire.

“Do we have to?” I asked. “I feel like dating for three years is good enough.”

“It isn’t when you factor in an adequate amount for time for dating, engagement, and marriage itself without it seeming rudely truncated and therefore causing even more rumors that could damage Adam’s career,” Mi Cha explained.

“Hollywood weddings are America’s equivalent of royal weddings. Everything in Adam’s history will be effectively erased in the public memory after a big white wedding to a beautiful up-and-coming actress who is a Hollywood legacy,” Chaucer added.

I snorted. “I’m hardly a legacy.”

“On that we agree,” Adam said, and I couldn’t help my slight flinch as the words burrowed beneath my skin.

“Linnea.” I looked back at him to see his mouth had softened. “I only meant that you have more talent and drive than your mother ever cared to cultivate.”

I blinked at him. It wasn’t the nicest comment about my mother, but it was the bald-faced truth. And it felt monumental to have such a comment—a compliment—from a caliber of actor like Adam Meyers.

“Thank you,” I said. “But you haven’t even seen me in anything.”

Adam pursed his lips, but his eyes sparkled. “I may have streamed the four episodes of Swamplands you guest starred in.”

Beside me, Sebastian made a noise of surprise that mirrored my own.

“Oh my God.” I laughed, hiding my face in my hands for a moment. “Are you serious?”

Adam shrugged. “I already had Bruce hide all the knives.”

I burst out laughing. My character in the show was a manic ex-girlfriend determined to kill one of the main heroes. She successfully stabbed him three times with a kitchen knife before he subdued her, and she went to prison.

I looked at Sebastian to share my laughter with him, but he was looking at Adam with such an obvious expression of tenderness that it felt intrusive to witness it.

“It’s good to know you can be charming when you want to,” I teased Adam, who smiled slightly and tipped his palms up in a modified shrug.

“Charming enough to agree to marry me?” he quipped.

“Not quite. Is it possible to revisit that part of the contract? I’d like to see how spending time with you goes first.”

“I don’t—” Mi Cha started to say, but Adam cut her off.

“That’s only fair. I would still like you to move in within the next three months. Is that possible?”

“My mom is unwell. I wouldn’t be able to move in until I found a place I could afford that could take her on.”

“Unwell?” Mi Cha asked. “We’ll need details about your family situation so that we can be prepared for any bad press.”

“Mi Cha,” Adam cut off. “Ladies and Boone, I think we can finish off negotiations without you. I will email you the changes to the contract, and Linnea can do the same.”

“But Adam—” His lawyer, Boone, started to say.

“That sounds wonderful,” Mali Issah said, turning to wink at me as she collected my lawyer, Etta Windsor, and swept out of the room.

Chaucer followed suit, basically dragging Rachel out of the room with a frowning Mi Cha and Boone at their heels.

Only when the door shut did Adam noticeably relax, his shoulders loosening, hands unclasping so he could rub one over his stubbled chin.

“Tell me about Miranda,” he said softly.

Suddenly, there was a pit in my throat that I couldn’t speak past.

Sebastian reached over to squeeze my hand. “She has frontotemporal dementia. Linnea moved here eighteen months ago to take care of her, but it’s taken over her life, and Miranda needs proper supervision.”

“Is it terminal?”

“Yes,” I said, spinning one of my rings around one finger. “Eventually. Honestly, she’s the only reason I even entertained this arrangement. She deserves better than I can give her.”

Sebastian made a noise of disagreement in the back of his throat.

“And what about you?” Adam asked softly. “Don’t you deserve better?”

I tipped my chin pugnaciously. “I deserve what I work for and nothing more. My dad taught me to be self-sufficient.”

“So you won’t marry me for my money,” Adam said so dryly, it took me a moment to realize he was teasing me.

My mouth curled despite myself. “For Miranda, not for me. I’m happy with my life.”

It was the truth. I was busy to the point of exhaustion, sure, but I had access to the ocean, a house to live in, and the love of my dad, uncles, and Rozhin.

More than that, Miranda and her life choices had honestly made me wary of affluence.

She had eschewed so much in the pursuit of fame and fortune, and now, at the end of her life, she only had a small house filled with stale memories, expensive trinkets, and an estranged daughter to take care of her.