Touching the Billionaire - Holly Jaymes Page 0,45

didn’t want to do anything that could hurt her. So, I hadn’t gone down in desperation to see her. And now, alone in my penthouse on the twentieth floor where I couldn’t go down and see her, something about that made me feel worse.

I got a call from Blaine right after I arrived back, and apparently he’d seen the dailies from the work Madeline and I had done today. Like Corrine, he wondered what the hell had happened and then reminded me that I needed to keep my eye on the prize and my head in the game.

The problem was, each time I thought about the prize, I’d think about Madeline. But Blaine was right; I needed to keep my focus on this project. There was too much riding on it to let these crazy emotions get in the way of my success.

Since I was already feeling shitty, I decided to call home and check in on my parents. I tried to do so at least once a month because that was what sons should do. The fact that I did it out of obligation, I supposed, made me a terrible son. But in my defense, my parents hadn’t been the best, at least when it came to me.

My older brother, Oliver, was the golden son. The chosen one. There were times I tried to hate him for that, but fortunately for me, instead of gloating and rubbing it in, he did his best to look out for me. His little brother.

Sometimes I liked to call my parents to rub in my success despite my father’s claim that I was shiftless. My father would have been happier had I been a dismal failure, so he could say “I told you so” and then proceed to browbeat me into submission to his will.

I dialed their number and my mom picked up on the fourth ring, as she always did.

“Theo, what a surprise. How are you?” she asked.

I sat on the couch with a bourbon on the rocks. “I’m doing good, Mom.” That wasn’t the first lie I ever told her. And it wouldn’t be the last.

“We saw that you were seeing that child actress. Is it serious?”

I rolled my eyes. She made me sound like a pedophile.

“She’s co-starring in the film that my production company is making.” I was deliberate in mentioning that I had my own production company. I realized that it was my pathetic attempt to get my parents’ attention and approval. I really was messed up.

“Oh, that’s a disappointment. She’s so pretty. And she seems so grounded. I used to really like that TV show she did when she was a little kid. And if you two got married and had children, maybe they’d have red hair like hers.”

I wondered if I married Madeline and had redheaded kids, whether I would finally win the approval of my parents. See, I was pathetic.

“It’s not like that, Mom.” In some ways, their impression of me that I was always fucking my co-stars, was partly my fault. I never denied it when they would chastise me about it, mostly because I knew it made them crazy. The idea of having a playboy son whose womanizing ways ended up in the tabloids nearly made my father’s head explode. To him, I would never be respectable. Even if I left acting and became a lawyer or doctor like my brother, I was sure he’d never respect me.

In the background, I heard my father ask who was on the phone.

“It’s Theodore, dear. He says he’s not really seeing that woman we saw in the news. Such a disappointment, don’t you think?”

“I find that hard to believe,” I heard my father say. “The boy sleeps with anything with two legs and breasts.”

“Oh honey, don’t talk like that.” My mother wasn’t saying that to defend me from what my father said. She was saying it because she didn’t like that kind of language from him.

“Ask him if he’s heard about that award Oliver is up for,” my father said to her.

I took a long drink of my bourbon as I prepared myself to listen to my brother’s accolades. I wondered what they would do if I told them that Oliver was an even bigger horndog that I was. At least now that I’d somewhat reformed. I shook my head. They probably wouldn’t believe me.

“Yes, Theo, did you hear Oliver is up for an award? I can’t remember what it is called. But it’s quite prestigious. We’re