Chapter 3: Moving Forward Part 3

It didn’t take long at all for Henry to answer, which made him seem more than a little desperate to Ella. “Tomorrow night would be great. Meet me at Chavet?”

She knew the club, though she wasn’t sure why. She’d never been there before. Perhaps it was one that her assistant, Tucker, had mentioned. He was always going out, trying to be part of the hip scene. “Sounds good,” Ella sent back. “I’ll try not to be late.” She said that only because she knew she would intentionally be late and wanted to seem as if she was just so busy she might not be able to help it.

“I’ll be waiting. Looking forward to it,” Henry replied. Ella swallowed hard, picking up her water bottle and trying to keep down the contents of her stomach. Thinking about flirting with Henry, letting him touch her, made her sick. She’d have to figure out a way to get over that because she couldn’t go through with her plans without at least some mild touching. In fact, if she was truly going to carry out what she had planned, she’d probably have to go far beyond a few incidental touches.

The idea made her nose wrinkle. At one time, she’d thought Henry a polite young man, someone who could potentially be a friend. She’d been having a cup of tea with him when she’d gotten the news that Tim was dead. He’d been kind enough to drive her and her aunt, Tim’s mother, to the morgue. It wasn’t until after her father had told Ella that he’d make sure her marriage to Rome was annulled so that she could marry Henry that the Frenchman had shown his true colors. He wasn’t the kind, thoughtful gentleman she’d taken him for. He was a monster--looking out for himself no matter what it cost others.

The thought of his mouth on hers, on her body, left her visibly shaking.

When she’d told Rome about her plan, he hadn’t been at all comfortable with the idea of Henry touching her either. But he had understood her compulsion to not only get vengeance on Henry for not stepping in and helping her with her father, he also understood her other reasoning, her plan to keep Henry from controlling Rome’s life. He’d told her, “There have been lots of scenes I’ve had to do with women I’m not particularly attracted to, including kissing, and even a few love scenes. It’s part of being an actor Ella, and even if we don’t like it, we put our head down and push through it. If I can do it, so can you.”

The thought of Rome kissing another woman or pretending to sleep with her didn’t sit well with Ella either, though she accepted it as part of his job--the way he’d have to accept her “relationship” with Henry. He’d given her some pointers, but she didn’t know if she could do it. He might play off his talents as an actor, but just because Rome was capable of doing something, that didn’t mean just anyone could. He was an accomplished actor, after all, and she wasn’t an actress--at all.

Or at least she hadn’t been a few months ago when she’d started all of this. Now that she was Juliet Montague, she could be an actress if she needed to be. She could be someone who was interested in Henry Caron if she had to be. She could be anything she wanted to be.

Satisfied that she’d find a way to do whatever she needed to do, Ella gathered her items and headed back to the house. She had work to do, and as much as she enjoyed staring at the ocean and clearing her mind, finding her muse, and digging inside of her soul, the real work would need to be done back at the house, the same house that had been the inspiration for Fae and brought the two of them together.

With her feet still in the sand, Ella paused and looked up at the house. It was a beautiful sight any time of day, but with the rising sun reflecting off of the white paint, it held a certain glow about it that brought her a peace she couldn’t put into words. Perhaps she could put it into a painting, though. Finding her inspiration for the day, Ella continued on her way to the house, certain she could do anything she put her mind to, including pretending to be interested in Henry Caron.