They broke up not long after that. Lisa became a regular on the show for a season or two, and then went on to “other things.” He guessed those “other things” hadn’t panned out and now she was returning. “Why would they be bringing her back?”
“Her story line is that she wants a reunion with you.” The entertainment lawyer pointed at the bullet point on the contract. “You know what that means.”
Sebastian groaned and buried his head in his hands. “Why is it that I have a fleet of lawyers and I can’t manage to keep my damn face off of TV?”
“Because, Mr. Cabral, you signed a very egregious contract when the show started, and they have indefinite, but very specific clauses that allow the show to film you when you are present with another regular. And since you signed that, I can’t change it.”
He gave the lawyer an annoyed look. “I didn’t think my own mother was going to hose me.”
“Your mother is faking cancer for ratings.”
Damn it, the man had him there. “She wasn’t like this a few years ago. I swear she wasn’t.” Or else he’d never have signed what they put in front of him to make his mother happy. He’d thought the show would be on some ass-end network for a few weeks and then disappear.
He wasn’t that naïve anymore.
“I’m afraid you’re going to be a staple this season whether you want to or not. The cancer thing you can probably skate out of, but the Lisa story line means you’re bound to get confronted several times for them to film.”
Sebastian groaned. He could just imagine. “What are my options?”
“Leave New York until they finish filming. They can’t catch you on camera if you aren’t here.”
He shot the man an irritated look. “I’m not going to hide from the world for months. My friends and my businesses are here.” Hell, he was going to an engagement celebration tomorrow night. He was sure as hell not going to bring that up in case his lawyer had loose lips and liked to spill details to the show’s staff. That had been a problem with the last entertainment lawyer he’d hired . . .
. . . Who was also now a staple on the damned show.
“Visit family in Portugal? See the roots? Doesn’t your father have a castle there?”
“Two, actually.” Sebastian drummed his fingers on the table, thinking. Then he shook his head. “They’ll follow me there if I go.”
“Then I would suggest preparing for a new round of media.”
He stared at the paperwork in the lawyer’s hands and fought the urge to rip it up out of annoyance. “What if I got a restraining order against Lisa?”
“You think that won’t show up in the papers? It’d be a media frenzy. And the show would milk it for all its worth.”
Okay, he had a point.
“You need to think up an alternative,” the lawyer said bluntly. “Be creative. Unless you want to get back together with Miss Pinder-Schloss?”
“God, no.” Lisa had gone from being a sweet if somewhat clueless girl to a woman obsessed with her appearance and making sure her every moment was documented by the paparazzi. “Lisa and I were a momentary thing. The only reason it lasted longer than a few dates was because we ran into my mother while she was being filmed.” It was a total setup, which he hadn’t known at the time.
Again, he wasn’t quite that naïve anymore.
“Then you need something that’s going to get this woman off your case.”
He did. But what?
* * *
He was still pondering his options as he finished his meeting and had his driver take him home to his town house. Most of the rooms were artfully bare and tastefully decorated in a minimalist fashion. He’d hired decorators for that, the best that Manhattan boasted. But he bypassed the rest of the attractively decorated house and headed straight to the study, which he liked to call his “thinking room.” He kept the door locked so the maids wouldn’t wander in to straighten up, or pick through his art.
Because, like every seven-year-old boy in the world, Sebastian Cabral had liked to draw. Unlike every seven-year-old boy in the world, he’d never grown out of it. His family, more interested in making money or swanning about with society, had never really quite understood his need to “doodle.”
But for Sebastian, working with his hands released a lot of anxiety. He sculpted sometimes, and every now and then he painted. Mostly, though, he sketched. Not landscapes or fantastical monsters or anything like that.
Sebastian liked to sketch women. He supposed it was the red-blooded male in him that appreciated the female form in all its aspects—thin, waifish girls with big eyes, or curvy, buxom women with big smiles and bigger breasts. Sebastian drew them all.
He sat down at his drafting desk and pushed aside a stack of papers full of half-finished sketches. More sketches lined the walls of the small room, pinned up in a haphazard fashion. He pulled out charcoals and a new sheaf of paper and began to outline the gentle curve of a woman’s cheek, then began to fill in eyes, a nose, and a hairline. No one in particular, though with the right hairstyle, this could be Bettie Page. He just liked to let loose and draw. Sometimes, when he dated a woman, he’d draw her.
He’d never drawn Lisa, though.
Didn’t feel the urge to start now, either.
Chapter Two
Chelsea Hall adjusted her knee pads and then checked her elbow pads and wrist guards one last time. She wiggled her ankles, testing them, but her skates were tight. Game on.