Proposal

“I just don’t know what I’m going to do.” Henry took another drink, draining his glass. Was that his second or third? Juliet had lost track. It was hard enough pretending she was paying attention to him at all when all she wanted to do was jump back into her waiting car and head back home to Rome.
The smell of him on her skin had washed off in the shower, but she could still feel his touch lingering there. If he had intended to sabotage her attempts at convincing Henry that she was interested in him, Rome had done a good job. Henry had already asked once what was bothering her. She’d lied and said she was thinking about how to solve a problem with the upcoming show and waved him off, getting him talking again. All he’d had to say was virtually the same thing over and over again. He was mad at Rome and wanted to figure out how to make him pay for his comments on the talk show. Juliet had nothing to offer in that regard, not at the moment. Any ideas of punishing the man who’d just made her come undone--twice--had left her head along with all conscious thought a few moments into her first bout of ecstatic panting.
Clearing her throat, she decided to just lay it out there, see what Henry had to say. “Maybe… it’s time to let it go, Henry. Perhaps your own mental health and wellbeing is being jeopardized because you insist on attempting to bring some sort of justice to this man who clearly isn’t worth your time and effort.”
Henry smirked. “What would you have me do, then, Juliet? Let him out of the contract? Proclaim him the winner and go on about my merry way?”
“No, not necessarily,” she said with a shrug. “Maybe you could sell his contract to someone else. Someone who could be convinced to be less than flattering with their recommendations but without causing you the sort of nightmare you’re currently undergoing.”
“Who?” he asked, shaking his head. “I can’t imagine there’s another production company in existence who would want to take on the obligation I’ve put myself under.”
“Maybe there isn’t,” she agreed, picking up her glass. It was just tea--because she had work to do that afternoon. Henry certainly wasn’t going to get anything else done, not after three whiskeys. Or was it four? “But maybe there could be.”
His eyes widened as he watched her take a slow sip of her drink and put the glass back down. “What are you talking about, Jules?”
She didn’t let herself cringe, not when he was staring at her so intently, though she absolutely detested that nickname he’d created for her. Setting her glass down, she shrugged again, nonchalantly. “I’ve been toying with the idea of starting a production company under Montage’s name. Why not now? Why not let me handle it?” She reached across the table and placed her hand on top of his, not letting the feel of his slimy skin affect her, even though her stomach was twirling. “Why not let us take our partnership to a new level?”
Henry was quiet--too quiet. His eyes were bleary from so much alcohol, but he was attempting to look into hers as he contemplated what she said, or was he merely trying to comprehend it?
Perhaps she had spoken too soon, given her hand away before the cards were even dealt. He might back away from her completely now, assuming she only wanted him for the production company--which would be a fair assessment. That… and to ruin him in every way possible. Juliet tried to keep her expression concerned, her demeanor that of a woman whose only interest was making the life of the man she was falling in love with easier.
“You want to buy my contract with Rome Verona so you can make nine more awful films with him?” When Henry stated it that way, it did seem a little difficult to believe. Why would anyone want to do that?
“Not exactly,” she said, trying for nonchalant, though she thought she came up a little short. Deciding now was not the right time, and that she shouldn’t have said anything at all, she tried to back out. Giving a shrug, she said, “I don’t know. I was just… trying to help. I hate him as much as you do, but it seems like your anger, your resolve to get him back for what he did to you, has prevented you from giving as much attention to other aspects of your life as you’d like to. I’m pretty good at multitasking, and I have people within Montage that I know could be fully trusted to run a production company that only made a movie or two a year, small budget, of course, with little to no supervision from me. That’s all.”
He continued to stare at her. Juliet had to look away. She took another drink, wished she’d ordered an appetizer or that their food would arrive. It seemed to be taking a long time. She glanced around and saw their waiter at another table. He needed to get his act together because if Henry was sober enough to realize he’d ordered his food more than twenty minutes ago and still didn’t have it, Rome Verona would be the second most hated man on the Frenchman's list.
“Do you think I don’t have enough time for you?”
The question came out of his mouth so quietly, Juliet didn’t even register it at first. It took a moment of contemplation for her to realize what he’d said, what he’d meant, why he’d said it. Her eyes turned to him. “No, not at all. If anything, I haven’t made enough time for you.”
“Well, at least we’re on the same page about that.” He finished his drink and looked up for another. The waiter was on his way over now, with their food. She knew Henry would ask for a refill, and then another after that. She didn’t care. Maybe it would be better if he completely forgot she’d even mentioned the idea of her buying Rome’s contract.
They were halfway through their meal before Henry spoke again. When he did, the question he asked was disjointed. “What would you do?”
She looked up from her pasta, her forehead crinkled. “What would I do… about what?”
“With the contract. If I sold it to you. Or gave it to you. What would you do? With him?”
“Oh.” She shrugged like she hadn’t even given it a thought. Of course, she knew exactly what she’d do. She’d rip the contract up and leave her husband free to do whatever the hell he wanted. But she couldn't say that to Henry, for obvious reasons. “I don’t know. Probably something similar to what you’re doing now, although I think I’d go for avant garde, rather than silly. Not obviously terrible movies, just those with unexpected scripts, the type of movies that come from screenplays written by new writers who have no idea what they’re doing but want to be original. You know the sort?”
He nodded. Anyone with any experience at all in the movie business would know exactly what she was talking about. “I suppose… I could shift gears. I could do that.”
“Of course you could,” she said with authority. “The question is, do you want to? You’ve already spent so much time and effort coming up with these manuscripts for the asshole. Why spend any more time or involvement in it? That’s all I was thinking. I wanted to try to alleviate a problem for you, Henry. I know sometimes you question my feelings for you. I see it in your eyes.” She forced herself to reach across the table and rest her hand on his again. “But I do care deeply for you. I do.”
Now, an eyebrow arched over a dark eye as he tried to discern how that could be true. “But… you are always so busy, Juliet. And we haven’t even been intimate with each other, not at all. Only a few stolen kisses.”
“Hardly stolen,” she corrected, though what he’d said was more true than he would ever recognize.
“They feel stolen to me. If you care so much for me, why don’t you show it?”
Juliet looked down at the table, the pasta in front of her, half eaten and not at all appetizing at the moment. She found a spot next to the plate to stare at and tried to channel the disdain she had for her own father and stepmother into what she was about to say. “I was hurt before, Henry. Terribly. Not by Rome.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s just… a silly boy. But… what I went through with my ex, the feelings that he had gone from loving me deeply to not caring about me at all, that he let another woman into his life….” She stopped talking. She’d said enough to paint the outline of a picture with broad strokes. She’d given him enough to fill in the rest of the image.
He looked away, likely processing, trying to understand that her reason for pushing him away had nothing to do with him but was all due to the heartache she’d gone through with some ex-lover she never spoke of. When his eyes returned to her face, she only glanced up momentarily to meet them. “I’m so sorry, Jules.”
“Thank you.” She had convinced him, managed to mingle the feelings of betrayal and a lack of love from her father with the jealousy she’d felt when her own dad had chosen her stepmother and Teresa’s two daughters over her. “Anyway, it was just an idea. No need to give it any more thought if you aren’t interested.”
“No, no, I will.” He reached for her hand this time, placing his warm, clammy palm on top of the back of her hand. “I will think about it.”
“Okay.” She found a small smile and then went back to her food, not because she was hungry but because, if she didn't, he might want to whisk her away and force her to make her confession that she did care about him more physical, and that was the last thing on earth Juliet ever wanted to do, even if doing so meant she could cement the deal. There had to be another way. And maybe… just maybe… she’d found it.