Close to You (21 page)

"This is a joke, right?" The young man
swept his hand through his hair. "Well, it's not funny."

Leaning back in his leather chair,
Parker took a sip of his scotch before answering, aware of the
tension he was causing. "No joke, Michael. You heard correctly the
first time. I want you to shoot the film in Mill
Valley."

"Shit." The director speared his
fingers through his hair again and started to pace.

Parker nursed his drink, watching him
coolly. Once Michael's tantrum ran dry, he'd do what he was told.
After all, the terms of the offer would be irresistible.

I'll make sure of
that.

It was almost a shame he had to do
this. He admired the young man. Of all the people around him,
Michael Wallace was the only one who stood up to him. The rest of
them cowered in corners, peeing on themselves as he walked
by.

He wasn't manipulated easily,
something Parker usually relished. At this moment, it irritated
him. He needed Michael's cooperation, but he'd never consent of his
own free will—meaning Parker was going to have to force him. Not
easy, but certainly not impossible. He just had to find the right
bargaining chip. "Sit down."

Glaring, Michael dropped into the
guest chair. To his credit, he remained silent, though his heated
eyes said enough.

Good
boy
, Parker thought, feeling paternal pride
even though Michael wasn't tied to him in any way other than
business.

Which was what he intended
to remedy. "You're the hottest director in the business. You can't
be surprised I want you to direct
Love
Unbound
."

The corner of Michael's lips quirked.
"That wasn't what surprised me, and you know it. Stop playing
games, Parker."

Once upon a time, the boy had called
him Everett.

One more thing he had to set
right.

Parker pushed aside the nostalgic
thoughts so untypical of him and got back to the matter at hand.
"Mill Valley is not only the perfect backdrop for the movie, the
town is working with us to supply permits. It's as simple as
that."

"There are dozens of little towns in
California that would be just as suitable."

"I want the movie shot in Mill
Valley."

Michael leaned forward, brimming with
repressed intensity. "Why? What does Mill Valley have that can't be
found anywhere else?"

My daughter.
"Mill Valley is the most picturesque of quaint
California towns."

"Since when?"

"Since it had a complete facelift a
few years ago."

"Mill Valley would need more than a
facelift to improve it. It'd need complete reconstructive
surgery."

"Most of the filming will be done
outside Mill Valley. At Pembroke Farm."

"Oh,
hell
no." The young man shook his
head vehemently. "There is no fucking way. I can't go back to
Pembroke Farm. Even you must see that."

"Enough," Parker said quietly. Most
people froze in fear when they heard his low, menacing
tone.

Michael was an exception. "No, it's
not enough. I want to know why it's imperative to shoot this film
there."

"Because I say it's
imperative."

"Get some other director to do it
then. How about Blasdell? He's up-and-coming and needs a
break."

"I want you to direct."

"And if I say no?"

Parker cocked a brow in mock
astonishment. "What about your contract with Parker
Pictures?"

"I'll break it."

"Break it and you'll never work in
this industry again."

"Damn it, Parker. What the hell is
your game?"

"No game." With the
instincts of a seasoned predator, he moved in for the kill. "I
want
you
to direct
this movie. I'll make any provisions I see fit and you'll follow
them, just like your contract says. In return, once this movie is
wrapped up, I'll release you from your contract."

Michael looked up sharply.
"What?"

Everyone had a weak point. Find it,
and they were yours. "You heard me."

"I want it in writing."

"I wouldn't have expected anything
less."

The young man stared at him through
narrowed eyes, fingers tapping rhythmically on his thigh. "Why
don't I believe it's going to be that easy?"

"It will be." Parker sipped his scotch
and waited.

"Isn't it too early in the day for
that?" Michael asked out of the blue.

"It's never too early for fifty year
single-malt."

He propped his elbows on
his knees and rested his chin on his steepled hands. "Jesus,
Parker. Does
she
know?"

About Kate

When Kate was a little girl, all she
dreamt about was moving to France and living in a stone castle
while painting the Provencal countryside. To prep herself, she
studied French, stocked up on berets in every color, and practiced
her shrug for hours in front of the mirror.

But then, because indentured servitude
seemed more attractive than eating baguettes and drinking wine, she
took a detour into the world of high tech. Eventually, that
insanity wore off and she decided to try something more stable.
Writing seemed the logical choice.

Now she lives in San Francisco.
Unfortunately Kate doesn't own her castle yet, but she holds out
hope that one day soon she can pull her berets out of
storage.

Visit Kate at
www.kateperry.com, or email her at
[email protected].