Read Online Darkling I Listen by Katherine Sutcliffe - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Katherine Sutcliffe
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realization spreading through her chest. "You haven't seen it? You didn't know… ?"
He swallowed and closed his eyes tight for a moment, shook his head.
She took a deep breath and sank back against the booth. "It's been number-one on the New York Times bestseller list for the last eight weeks. I can't believe no one told you. Your agent—"
"Is going to die," he said through his teeth as he reached for the book, as cautious as if it were a pipe bomb.
"Your manager—"
"Gone. All gone. Fired them. Mildred's next." He flipped through the pages, his expression growing darker. Alyson wondered if he was reading the interview with his mother, how Cara slaved and sacrificed so that her son could become the world's most recognizable face, only to have him disown her, ignore her as if she were a nonentity.
"I'm sorry. It isn't very pretty," she told him, turning her gaze to the pair of farmers who were slowly moving toward the door.
The sympathy she felt for Carlyle annoyed her. She had always reasoned that if people in high places were stupid enough to wreck it all with bad behavior, they deserved to drown in the muck of rotten publicity. The country, indeed the entire world, had elevated Brandon Carlyle to something just short of the Pope after the release of Jericho . They had made him the highest-paid actor in Hollywood . In return, he had smashed their fantasies, not to mention their respect, by scandal and, ultimately, crime.
"This is neither the time nor the place to submerse yourself in a lot of b.s. that is probably untrue anyway. Besides, I want to be across town when you explode. I really don't care to pick little pieces of you out of my hair."
He didn't look up, just continued to turn the pages, his expression shifting from simmering fury to disbelief to shock. His lips thinned and pulled back from his teeth as he growled, "Bitch. Lousy, stinking bitch."
Leaning toward him, Alyson lowered her voice. "Don't get mad, get even. There's nothing wrong with standing up for yourself . If this book is all a lie, then say so."
With effort, he forced his gaze from the book and back on her. "What are you getting at?"
"My reason for coming here. To help you write your own book. An autobiography. Carlyle on Carlyle."
"What makes you think you can write a book?"
"I'm published. Freelance stuff mostly. I can provide you with copies of some of my articles." She shrugged and mentally bolstered herself for the next lie. "I need a break. Pitching ideas to Reader's Digest just isn't cutting it anymore. I help you. You help me. We both get something out of this."
"Why should I use you? There are a hundred other established authors who would happily take this on, and they already have a track record in the business."
"And they'll take control. Steal your thunder. My name and reputation can't get in the way of what you have to say."
His eyes narrowed. "And if I say no?"
Her eyes narrowed. "What do you think?"
"You blow my cover. That's blackmail."
She smiled. "I hadn't thought of it like that."
Chapter 4
« ^ »
T he rush of anger that had ignited in him when he first saw the book, settled someplace deep inside him as Brandon looked hard into Alyson James's eyes. Wide eyes. Shadowed by dark lashes, even darker than her hair, which was a blend of rich brown and red. The scratch on her pale cheek stood out in contrast and had begun to scab over.
There was something much more troubling snapping at him than anger over the unauthorized biography. He felt compelled to listen to what Alyson James had to say. He wanted to trust her. He didn't want to think that if he told her to stick her proposal, she would walk out the door and announce to the world that Brandon Carlyle had taken up residence in a logging mill community where the harvesting of sweet potatoes was celebrated as reverently as Christmas. And he sure as hell didn't want to consider that she might be Anticipating. Perhaps in that deep canvas bag of hers, formerly
He swallowed and closed his eyes tight for a moment, shook his head.
She took a deep breath and sank back against the booth. "It's been number-one on the New York Times bestseller list for the last eight weeks. I can't believe no one told you. Your agent—"
"Is going to die," he said through his teeth as he reached for the book, as cautious as if it were a pipe bomb.
"Your manager—"
"Gone. All gone. Fired them. Mildred's next." He flipped through the pages, his expression growing darker. Alyson wondered if he was reading the interview with his mother, how Cara slaved and sacrificed so that her son could become the world's most recognizable face, only to have him disown her, ignore her as if she were a nonentity.
"I'm sorry. It isn't very pretty," she told him, turning her gaze to the pair of farmers who were slowly moving toward the door.
The sympathy she felt for Carlyle annoyed her. She had always reasoned that if people in high places were stupid enough to wreck it all with bad behavior, they deserved to drown in the muck of rotten publicity. The country, indeed the entire world, had elevated Brandon Carlyle to something just short of the Pope after the release of Jericho . They had made him the highest-paid actor in Hollywood . In return, he had smashed their fantasies, not to mention their respect, by scandal and, ultimately, crime.
"This is neither the time nor the place to submerse yourself in a lot of b.s. that is probably untrue anyway. Besides, I want to be across town when you explode. I really don't care to pick little pieces of you out of my hair."
He didn't look up, just continued to turn the pages, his expression shifting from simmering fury to disbelief to shock. His lips thinned and pulled back from his teeth as he growled, "Bitch. Lousy, stinking bitch."
Leaning toward him, Alyson lowered her voice. "Don't get mad, get even. There's nothing wrong with standing up for yourself . If this book is all a lie, then say so."
With effort, he forced his gaze from the book and back on her. "What are you getting at?"
"My reason for coming here. To help you write your own book. An autobiography. Carlyle on Carlyle."
"What makes you think you can write a book?"
"I'm published. Freelance stuff mostly. I can provide you with copies of some of my articles." She shrugged and mentally bolstered herself for the next lie. "I need a break. Pitching ideas to Reader's Digest just isn't cutting it anymore. I help you. You help me. We both get something out of this."
"Why should I use you? There are a hundred other established authors who would happily take this on, and they already have a track record in the business."
"And they'll take control. Steal your thunder. My name and reputation can't get in the way of what you have to say."
His eyes narrowed. "And if I say no?"
Her eyes narrowed. "What do you think?"
"You blow my cover. That's blackmail."
She smiled. "I hadn't thought of it like that."
Chapter 4
« ^ »
T he rush of anger that had ignited in him when he first saw the book, settled someplace deep inside him as Brandon looked hard into Alyson James's eyes. Wide eyes. Shadowed by dark lashes, even darker than her hair, which was a blend of rich brown and red. The scratch on her pale cheek stood out in contrast and had begun to scab over.
There was something much more troubling snapping at him than anger over the unauthorized biography. He felt compelled to listen to what Alyson James had to say. He wanted to trust her. He didn't want to think that if he told her to stick her proposal, she would walk out the door and announce to the world that Brandon Carlyle had taken up residence in a logging mill community where the harvesting of sweet potatoes was celebrated as reverently as Christmas. And he sure as hell didn't want to consider that she might be Anticipating. Perhaps in that deep canvas bag of hers, formerly
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