“I need to do the play.”
I shrug. “Not with me directing it. Why do you want it so badly, anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be on location shooting a big budget action movie?”
Her eyebrows arch, then one corner of her full lips lifts ever so slightly. “You know about that?”
I would rather be raked over hot coals, then whipped and flayed, than admit my unending obsession with her. “Sometimes I read movie industry news. Don’t delude yourself into thinking I’m particularly interested in news about you.”
Her face falls. “About the play…” She takes another step, coming closer to me. “I need to try something different from the movies I’ve been doing.”
I don’t take my eyes away from her face. She’s one of the most bankable stars in Hollywood, but her movies haven’t fully showcased her incredible talent. Is that why she’s so desperate to do the play? Or is there something more?
“You’re lying.”
“There are other reasons,” she says quickly, “but it’s important to me, this play, and I trust you. I haven’t been on a stage in years and people expect me to fail. I need you to work with me.”
I put down my glass and go to her, not stopping until I’m standing right in front of her. A slow flush creeps up her cheeks, momentarily distracting me.
“Aidan—”
“You’re pathetic,” I say in a low voice. “It’s all about you and your ego, as always. All the time you spent in la la land has made you even more selfish and egocentric.”
Her eyes close. “I know you hate me…”
Hate? I laugh nastily. “You have no idea.”
Tears spring into her eyes. “You don’t have to be so cruel.”
Curling one finger under her chin, I lift her face up mine. “You are cruel, Liz. You are selfish and cruel, and the only person who has ever mattered to you is yourself. You make me sick. Looking at you is an infuriating reminder that I ever allowed myself to fall in love with someone so vile. Go back to L.A. That’s where you belong.”
I release her, but she remains frozen, blinking furiously, as if to hold back tears, making me hate myself for hurting her.
But she deserves it.
“I’m not leaving,” she whispers fiercely.
“Fine.” I shrug. “Then I will.”
We’re standing barely inches apart, and her eyes are boring into mine, challenging, defying. My nose fills with the flowery scent of her shampoo, and the soft fragrance that reminds me of white satin sheets and soft skin.
White satin sheets and her soft, naked skin.
Arousal clouds my thoughts and I swallow hard.
“Do you hate me so much you’re willing to derail the play?” Her voice is a heated whisper. She places a hand on my chest, and I freeze. “Think of all the hard work that’s already gone into it. All the people who dedicated the last few months to trying to get it off the ground.”
I take a step back. She’s trembling, and less noticeably, so am I. I’m also hard as a rock, only a few moments away from succumbing to the temptation to push her against the wall and find out if being inside her still feels as good as I remember.
If her moans still sound as intoxicating as I remember.
I take a deep breath. “You’re being dramatic, and manipulative. And guess what? That doesn’t surprise me. Natalia can get another director, or you can leave.”
“Why should I leave? Just because you’re afraid to work with me.”
My laugh sounds hollow even to my ears. “I’m not afraid, Liz. I’m unwilling. I have no respect for you, either as a person or as an actress.”
She flinches at the lash of my words, but she doesn’t retreat. “I don’t believe you.” She gives me a pitying half-smile. “You’re a coward, and you’re afraid of what would happen if we work together. You know why? Because I’m not the only one who has spent the last seven years thinking about what we had.”
Her words are like a thunderclap in my head. How dare she? “You were thinking about what we had? When, Liz? Between the high-profile relationships and the helluva short engagement? When did you have the time?”