Stained Glass Shards

11.

GRIFFIN

I waited for her response to my text.

Instead, she'd kissed him in public, and they'd walked hand in hand into the sun.

What an absolutely horrid picture.

We had never walked together so intimately. Our walks had consisted of us shoving our hands in our own pockets as we shivered toward our classes, the cafeteria, or her dorm. We'd kept a comfortable closeness, neither too intimate nor detached, teasing and bumping each other as we laughed through the cold, dark streets of campus.

I had never stopped her under a streetlight for a kiss. There was never a kiss under the sun. We'd never kissed under a barrage of rain. I had never thrown her into the snow, tickling her as she wriggled under me while the snow made our bodies freeze and our passion thawed us to overheating.

I had wanted that so much. Still do.

The driver asked me if I was ready to leave.

"Take me to the closest bookstore," I ordered before he closed the rear passenger door.

A copy of Stained Glass Shards was featured in the store's window along with other romance books. I stood before it and studied every feature of the cover model's face. My eyes scanned each letter of the title and her pen name. Claire Lark.

Who is Claire Lark?

She's the woman who dumped me.

Who broke us.

We had a good thing.

I had a good thing.

Inside the store, I plucked a hardback copy off the shelf and my fingers clenched around the spine of the book. I opened the book to seek her picture and didn't find one.

She never intended to reveal herself.

I read her short bio and found that Elyce hadn't revealed anything substantial about her education or experience. There was nothing to identify her as being anyone other than Claire Lark. She had completely stripped away her old identity, everything she'd worked so hard for. All her articles, advice columns, short stories, and poems held no meaning because she hadn't listed them in this book—A triumph, as quoted on the cover by a famous romance writer.

An author who went to the trouble of writing a book but concealed her image had something to hide.

It was time to get to know Claire.

The film wouldn't do this book justice.

It wasn't a very long book, allowing me to read half of it within a couple of hours. I was riveted by the imagery—her description of feelings and the passion between Iliana and Tucker. And I realized, early on in the book, that Elyce had used our history as inspiration for the story.

It was us.

Mostly, it was about her and her feelings.

But when it came to me—how could she make me sound so cruel and heartless, but with a hidden side of compassion?

I would probably never learn her intentions.

She had exposed me.

Revealed us.

Used our story for profit.

Our first time, as I remembered it, was described so lovingly, yet was the saddest thing I'd ever read. All the sweet and raw moments in between were included.

Was that her plan all along?

Break up with me, change her identity, and make a profit from our pleasure and pain?

After reading her book, I realized it was no wonder I was selected to portray Tucker. We were one and the same.

And Iliana was broken. She wasn't Elyce.

At least not how I saw Elyce. This woman, Iliana, who both loved and despised Tucker, was pathetic. The things she allowed him to do...I can't recall Elyce doing those things without complete accord. She held power.

Elyce had always been strong.

I reeled through my memory bank and tried to determine when she had been weak.

She had painted me as controlling and dominating, keeping her under a spell as if I were a wizard—or a devil.

But I wasn't Tucker.

Even if this was how Elyce saw me back then, I wasn't that man now. I'd grown without her. I was ready to settle down.

Settle?

I stopped reading and looked at the time.

The club had promised me a quiet corner in their opulent dining room. The private club, which served as a restaurant, hotel, nightclub, and gambling spot offered membership to the Hollywood elite. Only the "who's who" were invited. After my third film was released, I received an invitation to become a member, and gleefully paid the exorbitant fee. Because of this association, I was able to secure two more films and a TV show, which left me with this shoulder injury.

I'd thought the club had also given me the role of Tucker. However, the truth now rested in my hands. I used the cover flap to hold my place in the book and tossed it on my nightstand. The clock, ticking gently beside me, lulled me into restful contemplation. A nap was out of order. I needed the time to shave and prepare.

Time to win over Elyce.