Chapter 43: Chapter 43

The restaurant was busy with the lunch time crowd as Rome walked in the door, glancing around and quickly finding Al’s familiar face in the back. The executive lifted his hand, a smile on his face. Rome returned the smile and waved before heading that direction, skirting around a waitress and a young girl who was clearly not having the best day as she shouted at her mother and flung her chair backward across the tile floor with a screech.

It wasn’t an elegant restaurant, that was for certain, but the casual atmosphere of Shooters made it a hit with the younger crowd, and it was owned by a celebrity chef, so Rome hadn’t thought twice when he’d agreed to meet Al and the new owner of the production company here for lunch. It wasn’t too far away from the backlot where he was filming that day either, now that the desert scenes were all in the books. “Al, how are you?” Rome asked, extending his hand as the other man stood to shake it.

“Great, Rome. Nice to see you. Have a seat.” He gestured at the chair across from him, and Rome pulled it out, ignoring the dozens of eyes that were on him now. A lot of these people were either stars themselves or upper class people who were used to hanging out with the rich and famous, but enough of them were starstruck at his appearance, Rome was praying he wouldn’t have to sign any autographs or take any photos. He just wasn’t in the mood at the moment.

“How’s it going?” Al asked as he adjusted his tie and sat back down. “You look great.”

“Thanks,” Rome said. “It’s going well, all things considered.” Sometimes it was difficult for him to remember that the rest of the world thought he was a grieving widower, but enough people asked him how he was in a sympathetic voice that it often jarred his memory. “How are you?”

“Couldn’t be happier,” he said with a genuine smile and a nod. “The company has so many great things coming up, I’m really excited to see where this all goes.”

“That’s great to hear,” Rome said, honestly glad to see Al so upbeat about the state of the production company under its new ownership. The waiter came over and took Rome’s drink order. “Is the owner coming?”

“Oh, yeah. He’ll be here soon.” Al checked his phone and nodded. “Traffic. Paris is one thing, but LA is another beast altogether.”

Rome nodded in understanding and glanced down at the menu. He only had about an hour before he was expected back on set. He hoped the new owner would arrive soon so they could get their discussion out of the way, and he could go back to work. It seemed odd to be talking about what was to come next when he was so engrossed in what he was currently working on.

“I think you’re really going to like what we’ve got planned,” Al said, gesturing enthusiastically with his hands as he spoke. “The films we’ve got lined up are all going to be huge. We’ve really taken a lot of time and effort to make sure each one is a new challenge for you, suitable for your talents.”

Rome raised an eyebrow, hoping he meant a challenge in a good way. “That’s good,” he said, not sure what else to say. “Are they all dramas?”

“I’ll wait until Henry gets here to go over the details, but I’m sure you’ll really like everything. We’ve got a few comedies and action flicks sprinkled in, but the majority of them are dramatic roles, pieces you can really sink your teeth into.”

Al was talking fast, but the mention of the new owner’s name caught Rome’s attention. Something in the back of his mind began to niggle away, though he couldn’t quite put the pieces together. The waiter brought him his drink, and Rome took a sip of his tea, trying to slow his thoughts down. Did Al say Henry? Why did that name seem familiar to him, and what was the association between Henry and France?

The other man was continuing to chat at a hundred miles a minute, and Rome was a few steps behind, his mind struggling to decode the mystery set before him and keep track of the current information spewing out of Al’s mouth. It wasn’t until he said, “Ah, there’s Henry now,” and stood up that Rome got a sickening feeling in his stomach. Even without turning to look at the man, he realized exactly what was going on.

Slowly, Rome stood, turning around to look at the young man approaching their table, a snarl of a smile on his handsome face. He couldn’t have been more than a year or two older than Rome, and his expensive French suit let Rome know his suspicions were right. Shaking his head, Rome tried to keep his emotions under check. He’d already signed the damn contract, and there was no getting out of it now. He may as well hold onto his dignity.

“Rome Verona! We meet at last!” Henry Caron said, offering his hand. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person.”

Rome took his hand, even though he would’ve preferred not to touch the snake at all. “Mr. Caron,” he said. “This is a surprise, I will say that much.”

Henry smirked at him. “You didn’t know?”

“Can’t say that I did,” Rome admitted. “But… a contract is a contract. I’m sure you have the best interests of the company in mind.”

“Indeed,” Henry said, letting go of his hand and shaking Al’s.

The executive was confused. He shook Henry’s hand and asked, “Do the two of you know each other?”

“It’s a long, sorted story,” Rome replied dismissively, sitting back down.

Al’s eyebrows were still arched as he, too, took his seat, Henry filling the chair next to Al. He seemed to accept he’d have to get the details from Henry some other time, so Rome didn’t bother to explain. It would be impossible for him to tell Al how he knew Henry without getting angry. The words, “Henry is the man Lloyd Sinders forced my now-dead wife to become engaged to right after he made her get an annulment from me,” sort of choked in his throat. It would be better if Henry told Al from his perspective. Somehow, Rome assumed it would sound less harsh and accusatory coming from him.

The idea that Ella would be furious when she realized who Rome would be dealing with crossed his mind, and he took a few deep breaths, trying to keep his cool. It also occurred to him that Henry might have agreed to the terms of the ten movie contract in an attempt to ruin Rome’s career. Perhaps the man had money to burn and could make some awful movies just to bring him down. He prayed that wouldn't be the case, but there was something about Henry Caron’s beady eyes that made him think otherwise. Just when things seemed to be going well, Rome found himself falling right back down a rung or two--or ten. Was this always going to be the case? For the rest of his life?

“How have you been?” Henry asked after ordering a beverage from the waiter who’d followed him to the table. His accent was much thicker than Ella’s, but Rome had no trouble understanding him. “I hear you bought a lovely house on the beach.”

Rome’s eyebrows shifted as he wondered who had told Henry about the house. What else did he know? Surely, he didn’t suspect that Ella was truly alive, did he? “I did buy a beach house. I wanted a refuge away from the city so that when I’m not filming, I can find some peace.”

“I can understand that. With all you’ve been through recently, peace must be hard to come by.”

Henry’s tone wasn’t sympathetic. If anything, it was accusatory. “Yes, well, I’ve lost a lot recently,” he said, looking into the Frenchman’s eyes.

A condescending snicker came out of Henry’s mouth. “As have I,” he replied.

Rome’s dander was up now. Apparently, there would be no pretending that this was an actual business arrangement meant to prosper both of their careers. It was obvious now that Henry’s reasons for bringing Rome onboard had nothing to do with continuing the company’s association with the Veronas.

“Is everything… all right?” Al asked, either lost, frightened, or both, at the clear angst between the other two men at the table.

“Al, can you do me a favor?” Henry asked, not answering the question. “Could you step outside and call Garrison back at the office? I need that order from Benson Light and Sound processed immediately, and I forgot to tell him before I left for this meeting.”

“Yes, of course,” Al said, still confused. His eyebrows were raised as he looked at Rome, an indication that he had no idea the meeting would become hostile so quickly.

Shaking his head slightly to let Al know that he didn’t hold him responsible, Rome let him go and then turned his attention back to Henry. “What is this all about, Caron?” he asked, trying to keep his anger under control. “Surely, you don’t have enough money to waste making ten terrible movies because you have a bone to pick with me.”

Henry smirked, saying nothing as the waiter set his drink down. “Do you need a few more minutes to look at the menu?” the young man asked.

“Yes,” Rome replied. He’d need all the time in the world, his appetite having left with Henry’s appearance.

Henry waved the man away, as if he was beneath him, and took a sip from his glass before he set it aside and said, “I’ll be honest with you, Rome, there is nothing more in this world I would like than to see you fall flat on your face, but no, that was not my reason in creating the contract.”

The anger boiling inside of him shot to the surface. Rome took a deep breath to push it back down. It worked only mildly. “Then what is it?” he asked. “And where do you get off being angry at me? Let me remind you that if you had spoken up for Ella even once, said to her father that you couldn’t break up a perfectly happy marriage to suit your own purposes, she might be sitting here today!”

“Me? You’re blaming me for Ella’s death? Don’t be ridiculous!” Henry’s voice was loud enough that people from surrounding tables were staring at them now. He didn’t seem to care. Leaning forward, his eyes narrowed as his voice lowered into a growl, he continued. “You cost me everything, Verona. The perfect wife--intelligent, sweet, beautiful. The daughter of a successful billionaire who would’ve helped me build my own empire. Because of you, she’s gone now, and I’m left to start over. If you think I don’t hold you responsible for that, then you have another thing coming!”

Rome’s eyes bulged as he stared at the man across the table from him. The audacity of this man to accuse Rome of doing him wrong when all he had to do was tell Lloyd Sinders he didn’t want to be part of breaking up Ella’s marriage, and she might have been able to convince her father that she wasn’t a token to be bartered with, made him sick to his stomach. “So what is your plan, then, Henry? It’s evident you aren’t hoping to make me a Hollywood star.”

“My plan isn’t fully developed yet, Rome. But when I had the opportunity to take something from your family, to put you in a position where you’d have to answer to me, I seized it. So that’s where we are now. What comes next remains to be seen, but I can assure you, I will take every opportunity I have available to me to be sure that you are as miserable as humanly possible. Whether that means roles you don’t like, embarrassing love scenes, or movies that tank at the box office, I don’t yet know. But you can be sure, by the time you’ve fulfilled your ten movie obligation, you will be wishing you’d never heard the name Ella Sinders.”

Rome pushed back from the table, ready to be done with this meeting. “You won’t get away with this, Caron. My father included in the contract the clause that none of Sinders’s associates could buy the company. You are clearly an associate of Lloyd Sinders. The contract will be null and void!”

“Do you honestly think I didn’t have that part of the contract examined closely by every high-powered attorney in the city? Even if that did stand up in court, which it won’t because I’m not affiliated with Sinders--my father’s company may be, but I’m not--there’s the fact that your parents will lose everything they have suing me, if they choose to do so, and in the end, I’ll still have the company, and they’ll be penniless. And if you simply choose not to make the movies, then I’ll get all of my money back and keep the company.” He snickered, much calmer now that he was thinking of all he had to gain rather than when he was speaking of what he had lost. “Face it, Rome. You’re trapped. I have you now.”

Realizing there was nothing constructive he could possibly say under the circumstances, Rome stood, pounding his fist on the table. “Two can play at this game, Henry. You’re going to wish you’d never heard the name Verona.”

Henry chuckled and slammed back his drink before he said, “Don’t you think I’ve been there for quite some time, Rome?”

Cursing beneath his breath, Rome decided it was time to go. Plenty of people were staring now. Some were even using their cell phones to snap pictures. Rome hurried out of the restaurant, nearly colliding with Al as he flew out the door.

“Rome, what’s going on?” the executive asked. “I don’t understand….”

“Henry Caron’s father is an associate of Lloyd Sinders,” Rome explained, his teeth gritted together, his hands in fists at his sides. “Sinders decided it would be best if his daughter married a Frenchman and relocated to Paris to get her away from her first husband--me. Rather than marry a man she didn’t know and be away from me for the rest of her life… Ella did the unthinkable, Al.”

As the story flew out of his mouth, he could see the understanding seeping into the other man’s face. “Rome, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. If I’d known….”

Shaking his head, Rome waved his arm at Al. “It’s not your fault. I just… call me when you get a schedule figured out. This meeting wasn’t about my films. It was Henry’s way of trying to tell me he owns me now.”

Al’s mouth opened, but he didn’t speak, and Rome was done with the entire situation. He hurried off toward the parking lot where he’d left his car, hoping he could calm down enough to drive safely. How he would finish his afternoon scenes on his current production, he had no idea, but at the moment, all he wanted to do was jam his fist through a brick wall. If Henry Caron thought he’d take this lying down, he had another thing coming. One way or another, he’d make that man pay--for everything.