He traced his finger from the hollow of her breasts to her collarbone to her cheek.

“Always,” he said.

 

* * *

 

—

Eventually, they made it to the bed. Anna pulled off his clothes on the way, and then laughed when he picked her up and tossed her on the huge bed. He crawled on top of her and stared down at her body. She loved the way he looked at her, like he couldn’t get enough, like he was planning how to touch her next, like he was thrilled to be around her.

Luckily, that was also how she felt when she looked at him.

She pulled him down and kissed him. They kissed slowly, their hands roaming, exploring, their bodies intertwined. They had plenty of space, plenty of time to do whatever they wanted. And all they wanted was each other.

Hours later, Ben got up and wheeled the room service cart into the bedroom, and they finally ate the food she’d ordered in a panic hours before. She ordered more wings, and another bottle of champagne and they feasted, naked in bed, laughing the whole time.

Finally, they fell asleep together, sated in all of the best ways.

When she woke up the next morning, Ben was already awake, already smiling at her.

“Good morning,” he said.

She kissed him softly. Had last night really happened? It must have, because he was here. She’d worried last night that she’d regret telling him everything, but this morning, here in bed with Ben, she couldn’t regret a thing.

She put a finger on his biceps and traced the outlines of his tattoo.

“Whose initials are these?” she asked.

He laughed.

“My mom’s. I got it in my early twenties—she was so mad at me. It took her, like, a year to forgive me. But apparently now she brags about it to my aunts, which I only found out because my cousin told me. So you never know about parents, do you?”

She lay back on her pillows and smiled.

“You really never know. When I was a kid, I never felt like I could talk to my dad about anything—he was so strict, he only grudgingly allowed me to be in school plays and stuff because my mom didn’t give him the opportunity to say no, and now he’s my biggest fan.” She opened her eyes all the way. “Speaking of, what time is it? I have to pack and get out of here and be at my parents’ house for lunch—I’m flying back to L.A. tonight, but I’m going to have lunch with them and my brother first.”

Ben looked over at the bedside clock.

“It’s only eight, you have plenty of time.” He turned back to her. “But before you start getting ready—what happens next? With the pictures from last night, and this whole thing?”

She was glad he’d asked that.

“The pictures will probably come out sometime over the next few days—maybe as early as tomorrow. Oh, that reminds me: today—right now, if you can—you need to lock down your social media as tightly as possible. They’ll find you, trust me. Make everything private, make any profile pictures of like, a tree or something, not you.”

Ben nodded.

“Okay, I’ll do that right away. And as soon as I get home, I’ll call my boss.”

Thank goodness he’d be able to warn his boss.

“Right, perfect. My people will handle all of the press—I’ll send you everyone’s number so you have it, and they’ll all have your contact info. If you get any calls, or anyone recognizes you and stops you to ask about me, be friendly, say something meaningless—we’ll get you some easy talking points—and don’t answer any questions.”

He nodded.

“I can do that.”

“You’ll come down to L.A. next weekend,” Anna continued. “I’ll get my assistant to book your tickets.” He opened his mouth, but she put a finger on his lips. “Please don’t fight me on that—I really don’t want you to put yourself out for this whole thing.”

He bit his lip. Damn, it was sexy when he did that. Especially when he wasn’t even trying to be sexy.

“Okay, but can this be an ongoing conversation? I didn’t agree to do this for you to spend money on me.”

She knew that. It was probably a lot of the reason they were even doing this in the first place.

“You can pick up the bill wherever we go out to dinner next weekend—does that work?” She didn’t wait for his response. “I haven’t figured out the details for next weekend yet—I’ll keep you updated about that. And I’ll tell you if you need to pack anything special.”

He laughed.

“Please do. I’ll have to get Maddie working on my wardrobe.”

Good idea. Ben dressed fine, but he might need some help to be camera-ready.

“So, that brings up something else,” he said, his smile fading. “Can I tell my brother—and Maddie—the truth about all of this? Or . . .”

She could tell he wasn’t going to like this answer.

“I’d rather you didn’t. It’s not that I don’t trust your brother and Maddie—I mean obviously I trusted them the other day—but if people are going to ask them questions about you, and about us, it’s probably better that their answers are genuine.”

He didn’t look happy but didn’t argue with her.

She slid her hand up his face and cupped his cheek.

“Thanks. For doing all of this for me. I know it probably seems ridiculous, but I really need a win here, and this might get me there.”

He kissed her.

“My pleasure.” He moved his hand from her hip to her waist and then up, until his thumb brushed back and forth over her nipple. “I mean that quite literally.”

She reached for him.

“I know you do.”

Fourteen

Anna woke up in her own bed the next morning, blissfully sore from her very athletic activities with Ben the day before. She had a million things to do now that she was back home in L.A.—unpack, update Simon about the Ben thing, check in with her stylist about what to wear to all of her upcoming events, therapy, and, ugh, an appointment with her trainer later that day. But even that last thing couldn’t dampen her enthusiasm for all of this, because the reason for everything on her to-do list, the reason she’d made this whole plan in the first place, was the Varon film. It felt so close that she could taste it.

But first, she needed coffee.

She went downstairs to the kitchen, took the fresh container of oat milk out of her fridge, and poured hot coffee into her mug. God bless her assistant—she’d known without even having to check that Florence would program her coffee maker to brew at eight a.m.