Placate

Ella sat on the couch, her mouth hanging open, the remote in her hand as she prepared to pause the recording of Rome’s interview with Cliff and watch it again. She’d already been through it three times; once, the night before, when she’d watched it on its initial airing. This morning, she’d watched it two more times. Why she was obsessed with watching her husband lie to the world about Henry Caron’s intentions, she wasn’t sure, but she wanted to make sure she had every nuance of the conversation engrained in her mind because Henry had called her the night before, leaving a scathing message on her voicemail. She had yet to call him back, but when she did, she wanted to make sure she was sufficiently angry at all of the details Henry was surely livid about.
Rome was still asleep, which was just as well. After they’d watched the interview, Rome had tried to talk her out of her scheme, thinking what he’d done would force Henry to give him better scripts for the next nine movies. While she was certain any normal person would react that way, she knew Henry well enough now to understand that he didn’t operate that way, that if anything, the revelation Rome had attempted to make to the world would cause Henry to find a way to make things even worse for Rome--if that were even possible. No, Henry Caron was not the sort of man to let someone else dictate his choices.
So… here she was, rewatching the interview one more time, the cell phone she used to speak to Henry lying on the couch next to her. She knew she’d watched it enough times and that she was simply stalling at this point, but she watched it one more time. Genuinely impressed with Rome’s ability to think so quickly on his feet and his acting skills, it was easy to get so wrapped up in her husband’s performance that she lost sight of what she was actually watching the video for. Until her phone rang again. Henry. With a deep breath, she answered.
“Hello?” Ella slid herself mentally into her Juliet persona, closing her eyes and imagining she was in the apartment she’d borrowed from her friend. It was easier to pretend she was Juliet when she wasn’t sitting in the home she shared with Rome.
“Did you hear that bastard?” Henry roared. “That unbelievable prick! Telling everyone that I don’t know what I’m doing!”
She took a deep breath. Putting off talking to him was supposed to give him a chance to calm down, but clearly it hadn’t done the trick. “I heard,” she said, keeping her voice calm but infusing it with a note of calculation. “It was pathetic.”
“Pathetic to our ears, sure,” Henry continued. “But there are people out there that will buy that rubbish. Plenty of them. People who will think he’s only making this movie because I thought it would be good!”
Ella’s voice filled her mind as she argued internally. Wasn’t that exactly why Rome was making the movie? Of course it was! But Juliet would never say that. “I’m sorry, Henry,” she found herself saying. “What are you going to do?” Perhaps suggesting that he try to fix the situation would make him realize he needed to get out from under the production company, or at least Rome’s contract, before he found himself so deeply submerged on this sinking ship, he’d never see the light of day again.
“What can I do?” Henry asked, sighing loudly. “I don’t know, Juliet.” He was quiet for several moments. She didn’t know what to say either, so she let him think. When he blurted, “Can I see you? For lunch? Today?” she felt panic well up inside of her. She wasn’t prepared for that.
Rome was home. She had planned to spend most of the day with him and then do some work on the upcoming Montage show. Henry would have to expect that she would be busy, what with the show just a few days away, but this might actually be an opportunity to speak to him when he was distraught about how things were going. Would it be possible for her to convince him that now was the time to unburden himself completely from Rome?
“Sure,” she said. “Just, uh, give me a couple of hours to get some stuff taken care of.” She opened her eyes to see Rome standing across the room, wearing a pair of jeans and a white shirt, unbuttoned. She closed her eyes again. There was no way she could concentrate on Henry with her husband looking at her with bedroom eyes.
“All right. Meet me at Capressies at 1:00?”
“Sure,” she said again.
“And Juliet, please try not to be late this time.” The scolding tone in his voice made her eyes narrow.
She didn’t let her annoyance come through in her response, not much anyway. “I’ll try my best.”
“Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, his tone softening. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
A chuckle spewed out of her mouth. As if she were actually helping him. “I’m sure you’d manage.”
“No, I don’t think I would.” His voice shifted. Leaving the thankful, jovial tone behind, it took on a dark note. As he continued, Juliet felt the hairs on her arms stand on end. “I’m afraid, if I didn’t have you to keep me centered, I might do something… regrettable.”
She didn’t know what that meant, and she didn’t want to know. Was Henry more dangerous than she’d recognized? “I’ll see you in a few hours,” she said, disconnecting the call before he could say something she would regret--like that he loved her. Imagining herself having to respond to such a statement made her stomach tightened. Could she manage to squeeze those words from between her lips, even when she knew what a bald-faced lie it would be?
“Who was that?” Rome asked, coming up behind her and placing his hands on her shoulders. “Henry?”
She felt herself relax into his embrace, her eyes open now, back to herself, back to Ella. “Yes,” she said quietly. She couldn’t blame him for needing clarification. She had spoken to Parker several times on the phone recently, so she could see why that might be confusing for her husband. The idea that she was talking to other men when the only one she wanted to be with was standing there, confused, wondering who his wife was about to go on a date with next, was unsettling. The entire situation formed a lump of guilt in her stomach, but it wasn’t the first time she’d have to put it aside in order to continue with her plan.
He turned her, and she let him. His eyes were downcast as he dropped his forehead to rest against hers. Without opening his mouth, he pleaded with her to let it go, to stop the charade, at least when it came to Henry. He wouldn’t be upset if she continued to pretend to be Juliet for Montage’s sake, but he wanted her to stop attempting to save him from Henry.
Only she couldn’t. It had become an obsession in the worst way, one she couldn’t simply walk away from. Until Henry Caron got what he deserved, until Rome was free from that vile contract, Ella wouldn’t be able to untangle herself from the sticky web of deceit she’d created in the name of love--or was it revenge that had inspired her? At the moment, she wasn’t sure she could tell the difference.
Rome kissed her, hard and heavy, like a man trying to force reason into the unreasonable. His tongue tangled with hers, and she hungrily pressed into him, attempting to grab hold of the rope and pull herself back to shore. He lifted her, not speaking, his mouth still devouring hers, and carried her to their bed, dropping her onto her back before collapsing between her legs, his hands tugging at her clothing while simultaneously taking possession of every inch of her body, imprinting his essence into her with the permanence of a tattoo artist’s needle. When Rome was finished with her, Ella had no doubt, she’d know exactly who she belonged to, who she belonged with. Not that there’d ever been a doubt in her own mind--but in his, well, she couldn’t blame him for being unsure. Running her fingernails down his chest, she vowed to make sure she cleared up any doubts in his mind.