Locked (PresLocke Series Book 2) (7 page)

“Shocking, isn’t it? How the wants of one person can cause issues for so many around them.”

“Get out.”

“What—”

“Get.
Out
,
” I said again.

“We need to—”

“I don’t want to talk to another fucking soul until I’m good and ready. That includes you, Martina, the press, everyfuckingone.”

“And when will that be?”

“Whenever the hell I call you. Jesus, Roger,” I said. “Back off.”

Roger held his hands up, palms showing in a sign of surrender as he backed away from me. “You should’ve had a plan in place before this got out.”

I glared over at him. “Because you would’ve been so helpful about it? Ha, you haven’t exactly been receptive on the topic, Roger. So don’t start lecturing me on what I should’ve and shouldn’t have done. It’s too late. Now we have to deal with the way things are.”

“And how’s that?”

“I told you, when I feel like talking to you about it, I will. Until then, get out of my house.”

After Roger grudgingly walked out, I flipped the lock, set the alarm, and then made myself a stiff drink.

Christ
, it’d been a long day. My entire world bursting open in one big bang. The fact that I was still standing after the last forty-eight hours was a miracle.
 

As I sat at the island and took another long pull of my drink, my eyes ran over the marble counter. Had it only been the night before that Dylan had spread himself out, naked and willing, on this very counter to take my mind off the conversation I’d been having with Roger? It was amazing how just the thought of the man I’d known a few short weeks could calm me down and help to tune the rest of the world out. And it was shocking to realize how much I wished he was there beside me.
 

6

YOU WIN SOME, YOU LOSE SOME

“LOOKS LIKE YOU’RE going to be a very busy man over the next few months, Dylan. Demand has gone through the roof, and so has your rate, so we’ll get you out on as many shoots as we can,” Claudia, my agent at JGE Models, said as she handed me a thick stack of contracts requiring my signature and leaned against her desk. “Since you’re still filming, most of these jobs won’t require that you travel too far outside of L.A., but once you wrap
Insurrection 2
, expect a few overseas trips. Paris is
dying
for you.”

I blinked up at her, not sure I’d heard her correctly. “Paris? Seriously?” When she nodded, I looked down at the brands I’d be shooting ads for over the next few months and couldn’t believe my luck. Damn, that Calvin Klein ad had paid off tenfold. “I’ve never been to Europe,” I said softly.
 

“Trust me, you’ll love it there.”

“I’m sure I will. Wow. This…this is unreal. Thank you.”
Holy shit.
Goodbye, student loans. Hello, financial freedom.
 

“No need to thank me. You did this all on your own.”

I lifted my hand to run it through my hair out of habit, but stopped when my fingers hit the shorter, spiky strands. Guess I’d need to buy some Miracle-Gro to get it long again after filming wrapped.

“Keep that,” Claudia said. “The spiky ’do you’ve got going on.”

“Really?”

“It’s the look people are starting to know you for. Don’t want to change it up just yet.”

The look they know me for?
“But…it was longer for the Calvin Klein ad. What do you mean it’s what people know me for? I haven’t shot anything other than the film since I cut it.”

Claudia’s green eyes gleamed from behind her wire-rimmed glasses. “Other than the hot candids published on the covers of every magazine in the country. My phone has been blowing up for weeks since you guys exploded on the scene.”

What? Wait a second…
 

Holding up my hand, I said, “Um, hang on. Who specifically are the ‘people starting to know me’ that you’re referring to?”

She nodded at the papers in my hands. “The ones that matter.”

“And when did they reach out to you about me exactly?”

“Hmm. I’d say about…three weeks ago, maybe? I’d have to look, but it’s been nonstop.”

Three weeks ago…
 

It wasn’t lost on me that three weeks was also the amount of time that had passed since Ace and I had been outed in Vegas. If our relationship was the reason I was getting all these offers, I needed to find out before I signed any kind of contract.

“Claudia…can I ask why these companies are reaching out all of a sudden? It’s not because of anything in my…personal life. Is it?”

She gave a trilling laugh and fingered the pearls at her neck. “Oh, Dylan. Of course it is. Your Calvin Klein ad was already generating a lot of buzz for you, but now you’re the guy on the arm of the hottest star in the world. People are falling over themselves to get more of you.”

My mouth dropped open.
Guy on the arm of the hottest star in the world…
Was that what it took to get ahead? “Uh…” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “I’m not so sure I’m okay with that.”

“Well, what did you expect would happen when you two got together?”

That it would be kept a secret
,
was my first thought, but the next was,
What did I expect?
That it wouldn’t be a big deal to anyone if we went public? That had been incredibly naive thinking on my part.
 

“So these companies want me because of who I’m with?” I asked.

“That’s not what I said at all. But before you grow a conscience over there, here’s what you need to understand about this world you’re in: it’s all based on popular demand, and when you get a big wave, you need to ride it out.”

“A big wave? Courtesy of my boyfriend?”

“Do you know how lucky you are? Most people don’t get Gucci and the cover of
GQ
. It doesn’t matter how the break comes about. It matters what you do with it once you get that break, so don’t be stubborn. Use what you’ve got going for you to your advantage.”

Use what I’ve got?
So use Ace. Was that what she was saying?

I bit down on my lower lip and read over the list in my lap again. They were dream companies, the kind that got you international recognition and paid off student loans and a mega-mortgage with enough left over to buy a small island. Okay, that could be a bit of an exaggeration, but the figure was more than I’d ever expected to see in my lifetime. But now it all felt…tainted. Like I hadn’t done anything to deserve this other than be with a man that I would’ve chosen no matter what his profession was.
 

“I’m gonna need some time to think about this,” I said.
 

“Think about it?” Claudia’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “What’s there to think about? This is huge. It’ll make your career—”

“Which I wouldn’t have if not for a certain someone, wouldn’t you say?” When she shut her mouth, I let out a derisive laugh and stood up. “I’ll let you know something within the week.”

Claudia just stared at me like I’d grown two heads as I rolled up the contracts and then tucked them into the back of my pants. With a curt nod, I left her office and headed down the hallway that opened up to the lobby of the agency. Before heading out the main door, I put my sunglasses on and grabbed the keys of the rental I’d been driving for the past couple of weeks out of my pocket. Then, with a deep breath, I pushed open the door to face the dozens of paparazzi who seemed to follow my every move lately.
 

* * *

“ACE, HOW DOES it feel to lose out on the Destroyers role to Norman Rockwell?”

“Are you and Dylan Prescott living together?”

“Ace, what do you think about the press calling you two PresLocke?”

As I pulled past my neighborhood’s main gate and left the shouts of the press lined up on the sidewalks behind, my cell rang, the ringtone indicating someone who’d been calling on a much more regular basis lately, despite our falling out weeks ago. Gone was the small talk, and in its place were clipped, to-the-point conversations.

“Roger,” I said when I answered.

“I’m afraid I have bad news.”

“More bad news? This is beginning to become a daily thing.”

“Main Line Studios decided to go with someone else for
First Watch
.”

My stomach dropped. I hadn’t been surprised at losing out on the
Destroyers
role, hadn’t blinked—much—when Blue Obsession and Ashland had dropped me as a spokesman. But I’d been a fan of the
First Watch
comics since I was a kid, and it was a major gut punch to lose out on something I’d had on the line for over two years.
 

With a deep sigh, I pulled past my gate and into the garage. “Can I ask why?”

“You know as well as I do they don’t have to give a reason.”

“It’s a character in tights, for fuck’s sake. You think they’d be smart enough to keep me for that.”

Roger stayed silent, but I knew there was a smartass dig on the tip of his tongue, just waiting to be unleashed. Didn’t need to be said, though, for me to hear it.

“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” he said. “Maybe you can take that vacation to Bora Bora sooner than you’d thought.”

Shit, at the rate my schedule was clearing, I’d be able to retire there in a matter of weeks.

“Right. Thanks.”

I hit the end call button, and, after turning off the engine, sank back into my seat. The past three weeks had sent my career into a nosedive, companies fleeing left and right before the inevitable crash. I knew back when I’d sat in the presidential suite of Syn that things were about to go bad. But I’d never in my wildest dreams thought how low things could get.

Ace Locke, the sinking ship. Appropriate, considering the premise of the movie I was currently filming. And the worst part about it was that Dylan would probably go down with me.
 

His rental was already parked next to mine, since he’d had the day off from shooting, and he’d used the key I’d given him the other day to head inside.
 

It was crazy to think how important he’d become to me in such a short period, but as I climbed out of my car and headed into the house to find him, the sound of him banging around in my kitchen had the first sliver of joy creeping into my day.

How is it that just like that he manages to make everything feel a little less hopeless?
What kind of magic did he hold over me that just the sight of him made me forget what a disaster every other part of my life currently was?

As I stepped into the open seating area that connected with the kitchen, I dumped my bag on the floor and waited for that moment…
And there it is.
Dylan looked at me over his shoulder from where he stood in front of the sink with the water running, and a slow smile spread across his lips.

God.
It was always a shock to the heart to see him there in my house. To know that he’d chosen to be there with me, even with all of that shit that came with that.
 

I crossed the tiled floor in his direction, and as I got closer I noticed he was holding a stainless steel colander in the sink as he watched my approach. As I came around the counter and stopped beside him, I noticed his bare feet, well-worn jeans, and casual blue polo, and thought he’d never looked more beautiful—or at home.

“Good evening,” he said as I settled in beside him, my hip against the sink.

I peered over his shoulder into the colander to see what was inside, and let out an appreciative groan at the cooked shells of pasta he was rinsing.

“Evening,” I said, and leaned in to press my lips to his temple. “The good part is up for debate…but whatever you’re cooking smells heavenly.”

Dylan frowned, and then reached for the tap to shut the water off before he shook the colander. After he’d placed it over the empty pot on the counter beside him and snagged the dishtowel to wipe his hands, he turned back to mirror my stance. Hip against the sink and arms crossed. “Not so fast, hotshot… We promised we would talk about things, no matter how good or bad they were. Remember? So, do you want to tell me now? Or over dinner?”

“Later…after. We can talk about it
after
dinner. I don’t want to ruin your hard work or a good meal.”

Dylan’s face twisted into a grimace. “It’s that bad?”

I tried for a careless shrug, but I was pretty sure he knew I was full of shit. “The same old, same old. It’s just…”

“Yeah?”

I took in a deep breath before I let it out in a shaky sigh. “It’s just so much
more
than I expected. To be experiencing this. You know? Rather than just thinking about
what if
it happens. It’s…frightening how quickly everything is going downhill. Does that make sense?”

I couldn’t bear to look at Dylan then, as the past few weeks started to replay in my mind. How we’d go to work, I’d get bad news, we’d come back to my place and discuss it. Then, depending on what time of the day that was and how many people we’d had to dodge or shove our way through, we’d fall asleep within seconds. Sometimes Dylan would even head home if he was feeling particularly brave, and then race up his stairs like some sort of Olympic fucking stair climber to avoid snapping cameras.

Christ.
Who did I think I was putting him through all of this? This was no way to live. This wasn’t even any way to date. But what stopped me from letting Dylan go—what stopped me from doing what I knew would be the easiest solution for us both and ending things—was each and every one of the emotions swirling in Dylan’s eyes whenever he looked at me the way he was right now. Those extraordinary eyes of his that were full of compassion, desire, understanding, and the one emotion I was beginning to believe was…love?

He dropped his arms down by his sides and took a step forward, where he placed a palm on my chest and said, “It makes sense. Perfect sense. Nobody could know what to feel in your situation. Not only are you dealing with the entire world being interested in your partner, a significant other…you’re dealing with coming out of the closet. You aren’t just saying it; you’re showing it. And that would scare anyone. Even you, Mr. Locke. So the fact that you’re finding this difficult to deal with doesn’t make you less of a person, man, or, hell, even a celebrity. Because
no one
has had to do what you’re doing.” Dylan then tilted his face to the side and swept his lips in a soft kiss by the corner of my mouth. “I think that makes you incredibly courageous.”