IMPROMPTU LOVE (GP)

by mylalisanity

There is no rehearsal for true love. JENLISA ADAPTATION (GP)

41. Eye Opening

J

"What the hell?" Lisa's head flew off her pillow, roused from her deep sleep when I screamed.

I sat up and kicked the blankets away with my feet, panicking to untangle myself as I rubbed the phantom pain stabbing fire into my chest. Holy shit. Holy shit. Damn, that felt so real. Okay, calm down.

It was just a dream. Just a dream.

Lisa leaned up on the mound of hotel pillows. I could see her scanning the room, looking for some sort of danger. "Jen, are you all right?" Her hand grasped my thigh as she shifted her body closer. "Jennie, what happened?"

I wanted to answer her but I was momentarily stunned and completely incapable of coherent speech, still caught in a freaked-out haze between nightmare and reality. I tried to say something, I really did, but all that came from my mouth were raspy, stuttered breaths.

Fortunately it didn't take me long to realize where I was, for it had been less than twenty-four hours ago when I boarded a plane and departed Providence, Rhode Island. Now I was shaken and panting for air in a luxurious hotel suite in Los Angeles, ripped from sleep by my own ridiculous thoughts.

Lisa tugged my chin; her voice was frantically curt. "Look at me." Her hand brushed my long hair out of my eyes. "Jennie, are you okay? Jen? Answer me."

I grasped her arm and managed a weak nod. "Yeah, I'm okay. I'm . . . I'm so sorry I woke you."

"Don't worry about me," she insisted, curling up closer.

If her throbbing pulse in my hand was any indication, I'd say I had scared the shit out of her, too.

She smoothed my hair back, wrapping a few strands behind my ear. "What happened? You have a nightmare?"

I nodded, trying to save myself from having to explain.

"Jeez, baby." Lisa sighed. "Come here. Try to relax." She coaxed me back down to her chest and tugged the sheet and blankets over us again.

Her skin was warm and the hand rubbing my back was so comforting that I felt my erratic breathing starting to calm.

"It's okay. I've got you." She kissed the top of my head, resting her lips there as she hugged me.

There, in her arms, I felt completely safe. But out there in the public eye, things were out of her control.

I had learned early on in this relationship that the terror factor grew exponentially when you're a celebrity.

And dating a famous celebrity was no different—actually it was worse when delusional fans became obsessively jealous, insanely possessive, and wanted you out of the way. Even normal, sane people lost their minds when it came to celebrities. Combine that with a world full of crazy people and the threats became very real.

I was thankful that Lisa was insistent about sending Mike into LAX yesterday to escort us safely out of the airport, or else the paparazzi would have eaten me alive. Lisa's public proposal painted a new, fat target on my back. It was one thing to be the local "fling" she had while on location; it was completely another once rumors started circulating that she actually put a ring on my finger.

How the hell they recognized me among all the other people hurrying through the airport was mind-boggling. Trying to get through the gauntlet of paparazzi in LAX was akin to sidestepping land mines.

While I was very grateful for Mike's protection, I still think the photographers only noticed me because they recognized Lisa's bodyguard first.

Heck, every public picture taken of Lisa lately had Mike in it somewhere—holding back fans, watching the invisible perimeter around Lisa with the expertise of a trained hunter. Between her gorgeous body and killer smile, Mike Murphy was becoming as famous as Lisa Manoban.

"You want to tell me what the hell scared you awake like that?"

Aw shit. I shrugged, not willing to ruin my first morning finally back in her arms by getting into some stupid nonsense. "It was just . . . I don't even remember it anymore. I'll be all right."

Lisa huffed softly as I waited for her to call me out on my little lie. "Did you dream about her again?"

I tensed, not exactly sure which "her" she was referring to.

When I didn't respond, she tightened her arms. "She's in jail, Jennie. She can't hurt us anymore."

Well, at least she had the psycho-bitch part right. Shame she picked the wrong one. Angelica, our incarcerated stalker, wasn't the one who had haunted my thoughts but I wasn't about to set her straight.

"I know. It was just a stupid dream."

"Why don't you tell me about it? You'll feel better if you get it out."

Part of me wanted to share, but what the heck would I tell her? I dreamt about your über-famous, crazy-bitch ex-girlfriend trying to kill me? Oh, and if that isn't bad enough, sometimes when I dream about my dead father, he's bloody and choking the life out of some teenager with pitch-black hair? Some things are better left unsaid.

Lisa let out a lengthy yawn and stretched her legs, poking me in the rear end with the one part of her anatomy that was already wide awake. With a kiss on my shoulder, she said, "All right. I won't ask anymore. You talk about it only if you want to. What time is it?"

I glanced at the clock on the bedside table. "It's almost seven."

Cool air brushed my naked body as she rolled out from underneath the warm covers.

I tried to banish the last remnants of my nightmare from my memory, but certain parts were playing over and over again like a bad video stuck on repeat. It wasn't the first time I dreamed about the boy with black hair and bloody red teeth. He had made repeat appearances in my dreams for as long as I could remember, always rehashing the same scene where my father is trying to kill him.

The part where Rosé Park factored in was a new and very unwelcome addition to the nightmare.

Bitch.

How pleased she must have been with herself when she nearly succeeded in breaking up my relationship with Lisa. Thankfully, she failed. My disgust for her intensified. I couldn't let her get to me like this, not even in my dreams.

I shook my head as if it would help clear away the horrible visions. I had to own up to the fact that it was only my tormented thoughts haunting me; it's not like Rosé ever physically assaulted me in real life. No, her assault was much stealthier, leaving a trail of false evidence to lead me to believe she and Lisa had rekindled their previous relationship. My heart still ached thinking that just five short days ago I truly believed Lisa's parents had shown up to move her out of my apartment.

I glanced at my new diamond engagement ring—Lisa's promise of a future and total commitment to me. Her intention of "Forever" was etched inside the band.

I vowed to myself that I'd do everything within my power to prove her and everyone else wrong. Lisa Manoban was the best thing that had ever happened to me. Her love was like an invisible blanket that I had the privilege of wearing every day. But if our relationship was going to survive the test of time, I had to start handling things differently.

My eyes followed Lisa in the dim light as she shuffled across the carpeting. Her muscular arm flexed, accentuating her bicep, when she used her hand to comb her tawny, disheveled hair back. My eyes drifted from her yawning mouth, down the contours of her hard, naked body, to her other part that was still semi-erect.

All of the pictures ever taken of this person and all the posters with her likeness on them could never do the real thing justice. All six feet, two inches of her cut, buff, and tight movie star body was one hell of a mental and visual distraction.

I never knew I could love someone so much and have it returned to me in spades. Even when things were at their worst, she didn't give up on me. That alone said it all. A small smile formed on my lips as I thought about eating her for breakfast.

"What?" she asked with a sleepy smirk. Lisa crawled back into bed, snuggling around me.

I secretly hoped that after my rude awakening she'd be able to fall back asleep, considering that it was well after midnight when her family and our friends finally left our suite last night. Lisa had arranged for Hyunji and Gary and Fred and Tammy to come to L.A. with me, another secret surprise that I didn't know about. I gave Hyunji a long lecture on the plane about how much I hate secrets, no matter how much she wanted me to be surprised. Over these last few weeks, she and Lisa had become thicker than thieves.

I spotted the opened bottle of champagne left out on the nightstand. My mind instantly recalled how she had tortured my breasts with the edge of the ice-cold bottle, making them painfully alert. How I got even with her, hiding a piece of ice from the bucket in my mouth and then torturing her nipples with the same attention.

"I'm all sticky," Lisa muttered softly.

"I was just thinking about that. Sticky, but oh so worth it."

She growled in my ear. "I do believe we'll have to do that again. Maybe try extra-sticky honey next time?"

"Or melted chocolate."

She swept my hair to the side and started kissing and biting my neck. "Definitely. Oh, there are so many things I can drizzle and lick off your body. The possibilities are endless."

Her teasing tickle caused a bone-jolting shiver to blast through my body.

Her eyes quickly leveled on mine, then she grimaced at me. "You know I'd never let anything happen to you. You know that, right?"

She must have misread my reaction. I knew she meant well but some things were out of her power—that is, unless some guy was trying to talk to me. Then the protective, jealous girlfriend reared its head and jumped right into action. "I know."

Lisa squeezed my arm. "Okay. Maybe we should get in the shower. I want to have breakfast with everyone before I have to leave." She buried her face in my neck. "Fuck, this is going to be a long day."

The thought of having to move from this entangled position made me groan. I nuzzled in deeper, holding her head to my shoulder. "I'm too comfortable. Can't we just stay stuck to each other instead?"

Lisa growled, palming my ass. "Oh, that is so tempting."

I let out a small sigh, knowing that the incredibly famous Lisa Manoban had an insane schedule ahead of her, jam-packed with one appearance and interview after another promoting the premiere of her latest movie, Reparation. She'd only been in L.A. one day more than me and she'd already been on several magazine shoots and a photo call.

My pulse skipped, thinking that in a few short days we'd be on numerous planes destined for places like London and Paris—cities I'd never been to before. But as enticing as touring Europe sounded, I was perfectly content wrapped in her arms and going nowhere.

"Call in sick," I whispered. "You lie and I'll swear to it."

Her chest shook with laughter. "David, cancel everything. My gorgeous fiancée is glued to my body and I have absolutely no desire to put on pants—ever."

I couldn't help but laugh with her.

Lisa coiled a long strand of my hair around her finger. "Believe me, if my schedule wasn't so tight, we'd be naked for days, weeks even."

I dug my fingertips into her tight rear end, lost in the sensations of her warmth, her strength. "Then maybe we'll have to block off a month or two of downtime? I think after all of the stress we deserve it."

Lisa pressed me back into my pillow. "Let's make that a priority." Her glorious smile suddenly faded, turning from light and playful to serious. "You are the most important thing to me, Jennie. I hope you know that." Her thumb stroked my cheek repeatedly. Her eyes grew tender, then repentant. "I know the last few weeks have been rough."

Rough? That was putting it mildly. Testing my will to survive massive heartache would be more accurate. I moved my left arm out from between us, rotating my wrist. It was starting to ache from being bent awkwardly underneath her. Sometimes it still felt like I was wearing a cast, even though it had been off for almost two weeks.

Lisa grimaced. "Does it still hurt?"

I shrugged. "It gets sore. Stiff, sometimes."

Her eyes narrowed as she worked on some other thought. Her hand softly stroked down my stomach.

"Have you . . . have you seen the OB doctor since . . . ?"

I nodded. "Last week. Hyunji went with me."

Lisa's jaw tightened and flexed. She appeared upset about it.

"What?"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

I couldn't believe she was asking me this—with a clipped tone to boot. Last week she was wrapping filming on Thousand Miles and apparently still contemplating her feelings for me because we sure as hell weren't having heartfelt conversations.

She nudged me for a response.

I met her eyes. "What kind of answer are you looking for?" I asked softly. "We were barely speaking to each other last week, Lisa. I didn't think you cared anymore. I was waiting for you to tell me we were over."

She grasped my left hand, kissing my fingers around my sparkly new engagement ring. "Oh, sweetheart . . . I'm sorry. I know I really fucked up. Things were just . . . and I was mad. Shit."

I brushed my hand on her cheek. "We both did."

Lisa frowned, leaning her face into my hand. "Please tell me now. What did the doctor have to say?"

"She said everything is back to normal. She renewed my birth control. I go back in a year unless I have issues."

Apparently she was holding her breath because it all came out of her at once. "Okay. Good." She scrubbed her forehead with her hand, pushing her bangs up. "Man, I don't even know how to go about making this up to you. I know I hurt you. Believe me, I know. But I'm going to spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I promise."

I swallowed hard, knowing my actions and knee-jerk reactions were what caused us to almost break up. "It's my fault. I'm sorry for losing faith in you."

Her shoulder rose and fell as she gazed at me. "I think we both learned a hard lesson—one that we can hopefully move on from and be stronger from."

I nodded, done with the heaviness. "I like the idea of going away somewhere. Just the two of us."

That perked her up and with that, her tense face softened. "Let's take a look at my calendar and schedule some vacations. We can go anywhere you want, baby. Anywhere."

With a tilt of her head, her lips found mine. So tender, so loving. We lay there for a long time, naked bodies entwined, eyes gazing into one another, sharing whispered "I love yous."

God she was beautiful, all naked with her broad shoulders and muscular arms wrapped around me. Her hair messed from peaceful sleep.

As much as I try to never think about it, I couldn't help but feel a bit smug, knowing most of her fans would willingly give up a limb, a family member, and a kidney to see her this exposed. Sorry, ladies. Hate to break it to ya, but she's all mine.

Hungry for her, I trailed open-mouth kisses down her hard body, barraging her with a mixture of sensations; scoring fingernails over her pecs, soft bites over the muscular swells of her stomach, the soothing wetness of my roaming tongue.

Lisa's eyes scrunched together and she melted back into the pillows when I slipped my wet lips and tongue around the length of her. Our time together was limited so I was going to make every second count.

"Oh, Jen," she whispered out, tensing from the onslaught. Her fingers coiled in my hair, tugging, pressing, guiding me up and down as I pleasured her. Damn, that was such a turn-on for me. I raked my hand up her chest and swallowed her deeper, drawing out surrendering moans from her throat, watching her watch me.

I had just begun to get creative with my hand and mouth when the shrill of her cell phone rudely interrupted our moment.

"Grrr . . . what?" she growled, refocusing her attention to the nightstand. "Who the hell is bothering me now?"

I laughed to myself, immediately thinking of the one person who has a knack for calling at the worst possible times. She must have a sixth sense for knowing the exact moment when her child is about to get laid.

"Ignore it," I murmured, taking her as deep as I could go without choking. I wanted her to relax and forget about her constantly ringing cell phone, her hellacious schedule, and gauging by her purrs and the fact that she just moaned "oh God" again, hopefully in a few more minutes she'd forget how to spell her own name. I hoped that the caller would give up soon; the continuous ringing was annoying.

Two minutes later, her phone chimed again. "You've got to be kidding me," Lisa groaned. She twisted to grab her phone but it was several inches out of her reach.

"Mmm-mmm." I held her firm, pinning her hips back down.

"Just let me turn it off."

"No. You'll check messages. Leave it."

"No, I woh—oh, fuh . . . ," she hissed, sucking in a breath between her teeth. "Damn that feels good. Mmm . . ."

Yeah, I knew you'd like that.

Her hands immediately returned to touching me, finger-combing my long hair out of the way while I tried not to mentally count the number of times her phone rang.

Lisa tugged my chin, huskily growling, "Stop, baby. Stop. I don't want to come yet." The moment I looked up at her, her hand swept my neck and she pulled me up to her mouth. "Come here."

I wanted to drink her into every cell in my body. Take her to new places where pleasure and love were as necessary as oxygen. I sucked her top lip into my mouth, wanting, needing.

She moaned in my mouth and wrapped an arm around me. With one fast swoop, she effortlessly flipped me over, hovering on top of me.

Long fingers brushed fire up my thigh and slipped deep into me while she feasted like a starving babe on my breast. Desire to feel more than her slick fingers inside me had me tingling, but all those wonderful, erotic thoughts flew from my mind the moment her freaking cell phone rang again.

"Son of a . . ." she rolled away from me and slapped her hand down on the intrusion. In all honesty, at this point I was curious to know who the hell was being so damn persistent.

She looked at the display and scoffed, answering my questioning stare. "It was Marla. All four times. I'm turning it off now."

No sooner did she say those words than the landline telephone on the table in our suite shrilled loudly.

That got one very angry, rock-hard, and unsated person out of her bed. Someone was about to get holy hell unleashed on them.

"What?" she said with a venomous bite, letting whoever was calling know her exact feelings about being disturbed. "I was trying to sleep. Now? Why?" Her jaw clenched. "This can't wait an hour? No. I just woke up. Fine. Give me ten minutes," she muttered. "I said ten minutes."

Lisa grabbed her clothing off the floor and cursed. I hadn't seen her this pissed in a long time. "Jen, you need to get up and get dressed."

"Why? What's going on?"

Lisa looked at me warily as she pulled her jeans up over her naked body.

I started to worry. "Hey. What's going on?"

Her lips puckered with disgust. "Marla and David are on their way up."

I groaned to myself. Wouldn't be the first time her publicist and manager disrupted her life at an inopportune time. To say they were overbearing was an understatement. She jostled the clothing around in her open suitcase with frustration, sparking my next question.

"Why?"

She rubbed her forehead. "Photos were leaked," she mumbled.

A wave of fright pricked at my nerves. "What photos?"

I watched the back of her head sway. "People in the bar took shots of me proposing to you on Saturday," she muttered over her shoulder. "Pictures and videos are all over the Internet now."

I drew in a deep breath as her sudden anger about this blindsided me. Lisa was so riled she had trouble picking two T-shirts apart. You proposed publicly. I figured a few bar patrons would capture pictures on their cells. What did you expect?

"So? How bad is it?"

Lisa signed heavily before looking back at me with apologetic eyes. "Jen, you know how it is. Pictures were on some fan sites and Twitter that night already."

I stared at my feet, trying to understand. This was not bad news, or was it?

"Jennie." Lisa interrupted my thoughts, tossing my jeans over to me.

I let out another sigh as I shoved my right foot into the pants leg. "Why didn't you tell me about this being a problem sooner?"

"Jen—you know why," Lisa muttered as she slipped a T-shirt over her head. "Let's not go there, okay, babe? Please?"

"But . . ."

She appeared resigned but tense. "But what? This is not stuff I want you worrying about, that's why."

I shook my head. "That's not . . . I'm just a bit confused. Yesterday when Mike collected us at the airport, he warned me that the paparazzi were going to swarm and I asked him if I should hide my ring. When he called you to ask, you said to tell me 'never fucking ever take your ring off.' So if it didn't matter for me to be seen with this ring and to have people know we're engaged, why does it matter today?"

Lisa narrowed her eyes. "And did you?"

I was momentarily stunned, knowing that that brusque tone wasn't really meant for me. "Did I what? Keep your ring on or get photographed wearing it?"

She shrugged. "Either. Both."

I supposed this was information she needed before being bombarded. "Yes, I kept your ring on, as it will never leave my finger, but no, I did not allow the repugnant thieves to make their living off of our happiness. I kept my hand tucked in my pocket."

She nodded once. "Yeah, well, keep that in mind," she said on her way to answer the door.

Marla Sullivan, Lisa's icy publicist, greeted me with a half smile, half snarl as she charged into the living room of our suite. Even though it was early in the morning, she was already dressed in a crisp designer business suit. Her short black hair was equally as tailored. An oversized black bag dangled from her red, pointy fingernails.

"Sit," she ordered.

Lisa glared at her for a moment and then pulled out a chair at the large dining table.

"Weekly Reporter, CV Magazine . . ." she announced in a scathing tone, dropping printed sheets of paper on the table in front of her. "You're on all of them. I suppose this is why you've been avoiding my phone calls for the last four days."

Lisa barely glanced at them. She slumped back in her chair and started to rub her forehead, pushing the paper away with her other hand. "I've seen them already. So what."

I edged my body closer. That's when I saw for the very first time the grainy, dark pictures of Lisa standing on top of a very familiar round oak table and another dark picture of her kneeling in front of me.

Candid shots from Saturday night when she proposed to me publicly in my pub were now plastered all over the tabloids. My heart sank in my chest from their blatant exploitation.

"'So what'? Lisa, you were standing on a table in the middle of a bar! What were you thinking?" She scolded her like she was a child.

Lisa rested her elbows on her knees while she bowed her head, refraining from giving her an answer.

"Well, this certainly counters the shots they got of her standing in the middle of the street in Miami two weeks ago," Marla said callously, nodding her pointy chin in my direction.

Leave it to Marla to remind me of the huge idiot I made of myself when I stood in the downpour staring at what I thought was Lisa cheating on me with her co-star, Rosé Park, when in fact they were still on location filming.

Lisa straightened and scoffed harshly at her comment. "Don't even go there," she warned through her teeth, giving her an angry glare.

It didn't matter that Mino Song, my former bodyguard, and Rosé Park, Lisa's co-star and former girlfriend, conspired together, forming an awkward alliance to insidiously destroy our relationship. The only thing that the press was concerned about was the photographic evidence of my mental breakdown from Lisa's supposed infidelity. CAUGHT CHEATING! all of the headlines announced.

And now, all of the headlines flashed ENGAGED!

Two weeks of ups and downs and aggravating media scrutiny—Lisa and Rosé are together, Jennie catches Lisa cheating, Lisa and Jennie call it quits, Lisa's secret flight to Seaport, Rhode Island—were now topped off with new photographic evidence that she actually climbed on top of a table.

"Lisa, we've had these discussions. Do you want to destroy your career?" She waved her hand in my direction. It was apparent that she meant I was the one destroying her career.

"No! Of course not!" she bellowed.

Marla huffed and poked her finger on one of the papers. "Well, I told you to keep this inane decision of yours private. So much for that."

I gasped in shock. Inane? Is she really standing there lecturing my fiancé and implying with the tact of a wrecking ball that her decision to propose to me was stupid and asinine?

"Do you think you could have at least warned me first that you actually went through with it?" She slapped one of the sheets down on the table in front of her. "I come back from Monterey to be completely blindsided by this, too?"

I rolled my eyes at her comment and her overdramatic little meltdown. Her shiny, black patent leather high heels captured my attention. I surmised that her shoes must match the color of her heart today.

"I got caught up in the moment. It's my business," Lisa grumbled, taking the submissive position to this domineering bitch. It was the first time I saw her bow down to anyone. This was not the "fuck you, no bullshit" posture she took with the rest of the world. This woman was making her fold like a house of cards in the wind. I pressed my lips into a hard line, holding my tongue.

"Caught up in the moment?" Marla questioned incredulously. "Is that your excuse?"

Lisa shot her a dirty look and sprang up from her chair when there was another knock at the door.

"David," she said flatly, her eyes refusing to look up when her manager came into our suite. David slowly shook his head at Lisa, showing his displeasure at being summoned.

My heart rate picked up as I processed David's overall demeanor. Now both of Lisa's "handlers" were here to gang up on her. The Witch and the little Slime Ball, here to tag-team her and beat her further into submission.

I'll be damned before I let them make her feel like crap for proposing to me. I felt my hands curl into tight fists, bracing for what appeared to be a pending battle.

"David," Marla greeted Lisa's manager. "Well," she huffed, annoyed, "let's talk about damage control." She uncrossed her bony arms and picked up a few of the printouts, tossing them in David's direction. "There are two videos of her singing on YouTube as well."

"I know," David admitted. "You really know how to stir up a media shitstorm, my friend," he chuckled out lightly as he feigned looking at the photos. I'm sure by this point he was intimately familiar with them.

Lisa was too busy stewing and staring at the floor to respond. It took a split second after that for David to redirect his glare at me. This was not the first time Lisa's manager had issues with me and it was starting to become apparent that we all might never get along. This was so not good.

"I don't know why you're making such a big deal about this," Lisa bit out before casting her glance my way.

"I don't, either," I added, giving her my support. If this was how they handled happy news, I'd hate to see how they handled a majorly bad shitstorm.

David sort of shrugged it off. "It's not really, Jennie. What you have to understand is that Lisa's career is potentially riding on how well Reparation premieres. This is her first major motion picture lead role outside of the Seaside franchise, and the critics, the major studios—everyone is waiting to see if she can carry a film on her own. This premiere is big, and it's all about image control, that's all. This is nothing new, Lisa."

Image control?

I glanced back at one of the printouts. "I'm sorry, but I still don't understand. What does our engagement have to do with any of that?"

Marla's head jerked in my direction. "Well I'm sure you'll start to care when she's offered subpar roles and the money isn't there anymore."

I could have done without her "isn't it obvious or are you too stupid to realize it" glare.

Lisa's fist hit the table. "Do not talk to her like that," Lisa warned, pointing her finger at Marla.

"Marla—" David said, attempting to quell her temper.

"I couldn't care less how much money she has. Despite what you think, my feelings for her aren't tied to her fame or her fortune. Are you trying to say she won't get offers and people will stop coming to see her movies because we're engaged?"

I noticed Lisa's lips twitch with that.

"No, no." David tried to dismiss my assumption, halting me with his hand. "Aaron and I have been—"

Marla interrupted. "Lisa's career is only beginning to blossom. Her future prospects all stem from the decisions she makes now. Do you want to see her fail?"

My spine stiffened further. "Of course not!"

"Jesus Christ," Lisa groaned, but Marla ignored her.

Marla continued to address me. "Then you'll both need to accept that the public's perception of her status and behavior greatly affects her marketing viability. She needs to remain low-key and professional at all times—without scandal or opportunistic individuals taking advantage of her good fortune."

Her last words felt like a slap. "Are you insinuating that I'm one of them?"

Lisa sat up, arching into defense mode, but stopped when it looked like Marla was going to apologize.

For a moment, I thought she would attempt to be civil.

"In this business, negative impressions can linger for years, in some cases having irreparable consequences on an actor's career. Lisa is here to do press for her movie, not to be inundated with questions about her ridiculous display. Her moment of indiscretion is now hugely overshadowing the premiere of Reparation. You forget that she is being paid by very influential people to promote the movie, not to explain why she climbed on a table," Marla informed us harshly.

She turned her glare on Lisa. "How many times do I have to remind you that you do not want this kind of press?"

"I know what my responsibilities are!" Lisa snapped angrily.

"Then you should have controlled yourself and realized that standing up on a table in the middle of a crowded bar was a bad idea!" she zinged her back.

Lisa stretched her fingers as if she desired to choke her. "Do you really want to keep pushing me on this? I get the point."

"Well, someone's got to keep on top of your behav—"

Gaaaaahhhh!

"Enough! Just stop it!" I broke in. "I don't care who you are. You will not take one of our most precious memories and turn it into something she should feel guilty for doing. I will not allow it."

I stood behind Lisa and rested my hands on her shoulders, actually fearing that if I let go of her, table, chairs, and bodies would go flying. "So she stood on a table and asked me to marry her. So what? You're making it sound like she was high on dope and clubbing baby seals when she did it. Surely this, this disclosure, can be turned into something positive."

Marla stared blankly at me, apparently surprised that I had the guts to speak again.

She turned her attention back on Lisa. "Lisa, perhaps it would be better if David and I continued this meeting with you privately to discuss our action plan. I'm sure your Jennie has other things she needs to attend to."

"Excuse me?" I glared at her, completely astonished that she would even think to remove me from the discussion. This bitch had some nerve.

Lisa pulled out the chair next to her, startling me. "I don't think so. Anything you have to say to me you can say in front of my fiancée, too. This affects her life just as much as it does mine. I'll decide what doesn't require her involvement, not you. Got it?"

Marla stared at her blankly.

"Got it?" she said with punctuated force.

Marla breathed out her unhappiness and righted herself in the chair. "Of course."

Relieved, I took a seat and patted her thigh in private to thank her. She covered my diamond-clad hand with her own.

"Now then . . . we will inform all of the interviewers at the press junket today that questions about your personal life are off-limits. Someone will be present at all times to ensure that those questions are averted so as not to detract from the Reparation and future Seaside premieres. We'll put the same stipulations on all of your appearances throughout the junket as well."

Lisa looked like someone had strapped her in the electric chair and stood by with a heartless hand itching to flip the switch. I could tell her thoughts were mulling over the best ways to escape. I rubbed my fingertips over her back, trying to ease her tension.

"You will have to handle yourself appropriately during your appearance on Jimmy Collins tonight and with Nigel Allen on Night Life tomorrow. You should know by now how to avoid those types of questions," Marla said. "But just in case I'm wrong . . ."

While she was on her soapbox, I picked up one of the tabloid magazine prints, eyeing the supposedly scandalous front cover.

"We'll handle your discussion topics at the pre-interviews . . . ," she continued to drone.

I tried to listen intently to her aggravating words, but my mind was suddenly very preoccupied, thinking of ways to choke the ever-loving shit out of her so she'd shut the hell up.

To me, the tabloid cover didn't look bad at all, compared to some of the other reports that were previously printed about Lisa and me. Even the story byline wasn't too hateful. Eyewitnesses had reported that "Lisa sang a beautiful song while playing her guitar before professing her love for local business owner Jennie Kim." What's so scandalous about that?

It was times like these I wished some of those inhuman special powers portrayed on film could actually happen, like being able to cut off the flow of oxygen to her lungs with my mind, or hurling her across the room just by imagining it. Evil thoughts, I know, but this woman brought them out in me.

Especially when she was smacking her lips together, lecturing my future wife on the proper behaviors of A-list celebrities and dictating the cryptic responses she should give today to avoid talking about our relationship in public.

Lisa and I both jumped slightly when there was another knock on our hotel door. I was thankful for any diversion that veered my mind off strangling the shit out of her.

Through the peephole, I instantly recognized the young, long-haired blonde standing outside our room, having seen her glowing face and friendly smile the last two days when we had numerous chats over our computers. She had a large messenger bag slung over her shoulder and a thick manila envelope pressed to her chest.

"Hey. Come on in," I said warmly through the opened door. With all the reprimanding that was happening in our room, I had forgotten that Trish, Marla's assistant, was coming to help me get dressed properly for the premiere.

The second Trish stepped into the room it seemed like the air changed and it was easier to breathe in here.

"It's nice to finally meet you in person."

"You, too." Trish bounced excitedly and hugged me like we were reunited college friends. "Even though I sort of feel like I know you already." I noticed Trish's eyes glance past me into the room where her boss sat, still lecturing Lisa. "How's it going so far?"

I shrugged. What could I tell her? That I thought her boss was a royal bitch whom I wanted to toss off the roof of this hotel?

"Did she say anything about doing a press release on your engagement?" she whispered.

"What is your problem? Why are you being like this?" Lisa asked Marla harshly, trying to keep her voice down.

I shook my head at Trish. "No. Not a word."

Marla made her signature throaty scoff, the one that sounds like a cat starting to choke up a hairball.

"You're starting to fly on a whim while the rest of us are left to clean up the mess."

"What mess?" Lisa asked. "I got engaged. Big deal. I'm not the first celebrity to do this. I just don't understand why you hate her so much."

Trish frowned as Marla made no attempt to hush her reply. "Lisa, I don't hate her. And I certainly won't hate the next girl, either. You're young. You have the world at your disposal. It's my job to guide the perception that the world has of you, so those doors continue to open for you."

Lisa raised her voice. "I'm telling you right now, there won't be another one. Get that straight."

Trish and I walked back into the dining room. She carefully placed the stuffed package on the table next to Marla's arm, almost bowing as she set it down.

"Are these the new press packets?"

"Yes. I just came from the printer," Trish said mildly.

Marla opened the envelope, taking her good old time scrutinizing the contents. She was just starting to complain about a mistake she found when Lisa interrupted.

"Are we done?"

I blinked in Lisa's direction. Gone was the normal, even-tempered person I loved. In her place was a seething time bomb ready to explode. My heart pinched with fright hearing the menace in her tone.

Marla pretended not to hear her. How could she not?

"David, we need to schedule a meeting with Len Bainbridge. We've already received offers for exclusives on this. Celeste Crawfield left me ten voice mails; Glam wants first dibs for a cover story. Huge offers are starting to pour in and we both know how messy engagement-and wedding-generated earnings can be. Len should start drafting a prenup immediately for Lisa before her fortune is compromised and —"

Lisa stood up; her chair crashed to the floor, jolting everyone's attention. "That's it. We're done here. Get out. Everyone." She grabbed the papers on the table and flung them at her. "And take this bullshit with you."

Marla sighed like an unhappy, controlling mother. "You know things need to be formed legally, Lisa."

"I don't care!" Lisa yelled. "It's none of your goddamned business!"

David was indifferent to Lisa's order, taking the time to adjust his sleeves and peer at his watch.

Apparently movie star temper tantrums were old hat. "I'll call the lawyers and get things rolling. Your car will be here at nine and—"

"I said get out! Out!" Lisa shouted at him, the veins in her neck cording from the strain. She nodded her chin at the door. I had never seen her this angry. If she'd yelled like that at me, I'd be running for the elevator.

Five seconds later, our bedroom door slammed shut.

I found Lisa leaning with both palms flat on the glass window, her head hanging between her arms, panting as if she'd just been released from a caged death match. I feared that even whispering her name might cause her to detonate.

I sat on the edge of our crumpled bed in silence, giving her ample time and space to calm herself while I mulled over how the news of our happiness had just turned into a twenty-minute patronizing lecture.

What should have been hugs and champagne and congratulations with smiles and pats on the back was the exact opposite—anger and heartless animosity mixed with ugly accusations and assumptions from the team she had managing her life.

Pressed against the glass like that, I wondered if Lisa was regretting her actions now.

I feared sooner or later, one of us would.

Not willing to take such chances, I stepped to her side. Lisa looked at me warily before clutching me to her chest.

Now was not the time for regret.