Romy Sommer - Not a Fairy Tale

The scarlet shoes with their three-inch heels were killing her feet. She kicked them off and wiggled her toes. Bliss!

Then she sagged down on the sofa and breathed a dramatic sigh of relief as she put her bare feet up on the glass coffee table.

Dominic’s eyebrows lifted as he sprawled beside her, slinging an arm across the back of the chair, but he said nothing. Though he wasn’t close enough to touch, she could feel the heat emanating off him, and he smelled of the sea. Not the storm-wracked waves that made her stomach clench, but lazy holidays and suntan lotions and laughter.

She resisted the crazy urge to lean in closer to breathe him in. There were cameras everywhere at this party, and that was so not a picture she wanted to see online in the morning, either.

In the town where gossip was a billion-dollar industry, she’d worked hard to keep her image clean. Nooky in a corner of a party was definitely a no-no. Which put it up near the top of the list of things she most wanted to do.

Right behind ‘Eat a burger with all the trimmings!’

She tried not to drool as Dominic tucked into his, and instead looked out at the view and sipped the fiery brandy. Down there, below the roving spotlights that illuminated this party-to-end-all-parties, were real people living real lives. She could hardly even remember what that felt like. As much as she envied their anonymity, their freedom to come and go without their every move scrutinized and torn apart, she wouldn’t swap her place up here on the hill with theirs for anything.

That was her addiction: fame. Being admired, being loved, was something she’d worked very hard for. And while losing might not be fun, at least she’d never need to worry about a mortgage payment again. She was living the fairy tale, with more money than her teen self could have imagined, doing what she loved. And she was adored. She had everything she’d ever wanted.

Almost everything.

If she could just get the one role that would make people sit up and notice, which would make people see her as something more than the ditsy rom-com heroine…

Dominic stretched and propped his expensive Italian shoes on the glass table beside her bare feet. “Last year’s Vanity Fair after-party was a complete crush, but it was much more fun.” He sighed. “Or maybe I’m getting jaded. Nothing is ever as good as it was.”

“I didn’t see you here last year.”

“You didn’t know I was alive last year.”

“That’s not true.” She’d known who he was long before they’d been introduced. She still remembered the first time she’d seen him at some party a couple of years back and asked the hostess who he was.

He was an impossible man to miss. Impressively built, a little rough and rugged in the looks department but gorgeous enough to make most women look twice. Muscled, without looking like one of those malformed bodybuilders. He looked more like a dancer. Of the stripper kind.

But it wasn’t his looks that made Dominic stand out among the crowds of beautiful people in this town. It was his attitude. Though he partied with celebrities, he wasn’t one of the usual sycophantic hangers-on, basking in reflected glory. It was as if he didn’t give a damn what anyone thought. There was the hint of aggression lurking beneath his surface, like a Navy seal or a nightclub bouncer. What woman could resist that bad-boy streak?

And then he’d smile that naughty, crooked smile…

He hadn’t even looked her way that entire night. She’d been stopping traffic since she was 16 and he hadn’t even noticed her. Admittedly, there were so many beautiful people in LA that women who turned heads in London or New York – or Cedar Falls, Iowa – barely warranted a second look here.

She rubbed her bare arms. Wordlessly, Dominic set down his burger and shrugged out of his evening jacket to wrap it around her shoulders.

“Thanks.” She smiled, the first genuine smile since she’d heard the words ‘ and the Oscar goes to…’ followed by someone else’s name.

Dom lazed back and contemplated her. “Where’s your entourage tonight? Don’t you usually hunt in a pack?”

She didn’t need to see them to know where they were. Her stylist was taking a well-deserved rest after a hectic day. She’d left her PA, her ‘plus one’, back at the Governors’ Ball. Her agent was inside, working the room, schmoozing all the producers and hopefully trying to get Nina a job that wasn’t yet another rom-com. Her publicist, Chrissie, who’d conned her way into a VF party invite by promising a story to a sub-editor, would be getting her picture taken with as many somebodies as she could.

“Congratulations, by the way.”

Oh no, not Dominic too. She really didn’t want to have to smack him. And she didn’t have much energy left to do it.

“I hear you’ve done very well for yourself since we worked together on Pirate’s Revenge .”

She blinked. Not what she’d expected. “What do you mean?”

Aside from a minor role playing Meryl Streep’s daughter and two very long and tiring promo campaigns for her previous movies, she hadn’t worked since Pirate’s Revenge . Even this nomination was for the movie she’d filmed before her jaunt to Westerwald for Pirate’s Revenge , yet another fairy tale re-imagined. The situation was getting dire. She’d needed the award tonight to break the dry spell.

“You landed yourself a little prime A-list steak since then.”

Ah. She smiled. The one thing that was going very right in her life.

These last few months hadn’t been entirely wasted. Dating fellow actor Paul de Angelo had kept her name in the spotlight and he’d introduced her to more useful contacts in the last month than her agent and manager had done combined.

They worked well together, both driven, both serious about their careers, both happy not to get too much in each other’s space.

It was thanks to Paul she’d been invited to read for this year’s hottest role, the lead role in a trilogy based on the bestselling novels that had been so popular people had camped outside bookstores for days to get their hands on the final installment. That Nina had read the books before they’d turned into a phenomenon had to be significant, right? It was kismet.

Strong female lead roles were hard to come by, and she didn’t want to spend her entire career playing someone’s daughter or the lead’s romantic interest. The accessory.

No, this role was hers .

Except the read hadn’t been the golden opportunity she’d hoped for. It had been something of a novelty playing to a lukewarm audience. A not-very-pleasant novelty.

Paul had been supportive and encouraging. “They just don’t see you as tough enough for the role. You need to show them you’re more than just another pretty face.”

It wasn’t her face they’d been worried about. The casting director’s exact words had been “you’re a little too soft for this role.”

Or, as her agent, Dane, had said, a little less diplomatically, “ Lose 20 pounds, get some muscle and some attitude, and you might stand a chance .”

She turned now to Dominic. “Can we meet tomorrow?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Mr. A-Lister not ringing your bell?”

She rolled her eyes dramatically. Trust him to think everything was about sex. Not that she hadn’t already imagined sex with Dominic a few dozen times. “In your dreams. I don’t want to sleep with you. I have a business proposition.”

“Intriguing.” He rubbed his chin, as if the thought of any woman not wanting to fall straight into his bed was something he hadn’t considered before.

“Lunch at Cecconi’s?” she pushed.