His Last Wife: A fast-paced psychological thriller with twist after twist (Gia Pere's Domestic Thrillers Book 1) by Gia Pere

Author:Gia Pere [Pere, Gia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-03-12T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

After spending hours on set, Sofia was relaxing in the Presidential Suite's sumptuous bath tub when Nick Bertuzzi came into the washroom.

He unbuttoned his shirt. “Is there room for one more?”

His mood had shifted. The confusion that had hung over him since his ex-wife's death seemed to be lifting.

“That depends.” She waved a suds-covered foot at him. “Do you have a reservation, sir?”

“I don't need a reservation.” He stripped off his shirt and beat his chest like a gorilla. “Don't you know who I am?”

“I know that chest. It looks so familiar.” She made a surprised face, both hands on her cheeks. “You're that famous actor!”

He continued to beat his chest. “Me King Kong!”

“Get in here, you big monkey.”

“Monkey? Me King Kong. Me is... a great ape.” He dropped the rest of his clothes and climbed into the steaming waters. “What is King Kong? Is he a gorilla?”

“You should ask your zookeeper.”

He grabbed her feet, and pulled her deeper into the waters, one inch at a time, until her mouth was below the water line and her nose was above.

Then, satisfied, he relaxed, holding her feet hostage against his chest.

He said, “I hear the scenes by the pool went well today.”

She answered by blowing bubbles.

He released her feet and let her sit upright again.

He said, “What do you think? Is Fridman actually going to finish this lousy movie?”

“It's not lousy.”

He winced with irritation.

Sofia immediately realized her error. She'd directly contradicted him. Men like Nick appreciated playful defiance, but not direct opposition.

Sofia grabbed one of his feet, brought it onto her lap below the suds, and began massaging the arch.

“The movie isn't Oscar bait,” she said lightly, by way of a peace offering.

“It is not,” he agreed. “But it isn't lousy. I was wrong to call it that.” He shot her a dark look across the bubbles. “Thank you for pointing out my error.”

She held eye contact, then slowly lowered her gaze to diffuse the tension before looking away.

“I want to help you any way I can,” she said softly. “Just say the word. We can be gone tonight. Fridman can finish the last day with your body double and whoever wants to stand in for me. The makeup girl is about my size.”

“Hah. Maybe ten years ago.”

“Either way, my commitment is to you, not Fridman.”

Nick's foot relaxed in her hands. He brought up the other one to rest on her thigh.

He said, “How would you like to make that official?”

She'd been looking at the absurd rubber duckie the hotel had provided for guests. She turned her gaze back to Nick, and found him staring at her with a look of tenderness.

“I'll quit the film if you want,” she said. “At dinner tonight, I'll resign. Fridman can throw the assassin's wardrobe onto the makeup girl to shoot the rest.”

“That's not what I meant.”

She was confused. What were they talking about?

“Marry me,” he said.

She watched him for more clues about what kind of game they were playing. This one wasn't about reservations for the soaker tub, or King Kong, or any of the other scenarios they'd been enjoying.

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