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PRELUDE
Verity
“Art is our weapon. Culture is a form of resistance.”
—Shirin Neshat, “Art in Exile”TED Talk(2010)
Present Day
Opportunity doesn’t always knock. Sometimes it invites you to lunch on a sunny afternoon.
I scan the tables in the rooftop restaurant, pushing past my nerves and searching for the man I’m supposed to meet. Open Air sits atop one of LA’s most luxurious boutique hotels, The V. It’s always a who’s who crowd, with everyone that’s supposed to be someone doing deals and eating meals up here. This high there’s a cool breeze even in the spring, so I pull the light cardigan a little closer around my shoulders and scour the diners one more time in case I’ve missed him.
“Looking for someone?”
Living in LA for nearly the last decade, I should be used to gorgeous women. This one, though, with her long-lashed brown eyes, thick curtain of dark hair hanging to her waist, and miles of smooth tanned skin on display in a minidress that barely hits mid-thigh, is still so breathtaking I find myself stammering.
“Um, y-yeah. I’m meeting someone. We should have a reservation.” I drag my eyes away from her to search the rooftop dining area again. “But I don’t see him yet.”
She steps behind the podium and touches the tablet screen, her thick brows furrowing. “Which name would the reservation be under?”
“Holt. Canon Holt.”
Just saying the famous director’s name triggers a full-body flush of anxiety. He’s one of the most critically and commercially successful Blackfilmmakers of the past decade, and when my agent told me he requested a meeting, I nearly expired on the spot. I’m still trying to shake off thewho me?energy and find thebad bitchbravado needed to conduct myself like the confident professional I’m supposed to be.
“Oh, Canon!” She looks up with a beatific smile so dazzling I almost say,Canon who?and ask for her number on the spot. “He’s already here. They’re in one of our private pods.”
She gestures to the discreet, striped-curtained enclosures lining the azure swimming pool at the rooftop’s center and starts walking.
“They?” I follow her, distracted by the swish of long hair and the jiggle of her ass.
Damn.
God took His time with this one.
Time well spent, Sir. Time well spent.
“My brother’s with him.” She glances over her shoulder, flashing me a knowing grin when my eyes have to bounce up to meet hers.
“Your brother?” I ask, trying to recover some of my dignity.
“Well, my stepbrother. Evan Bancroft. This is my place, and they come here all the time.”
“Open Air isyourrestaurant?”
“Yeah, my father owns the V hotels, but the restaurant is mine to play with.”
“It’s gorgeous,” I say, skirting the tables draped in white and set with fresh flowers.
The closer we get to the tent with one flap pulled back at the far end of the pool, the more anxious I become. This is a huge meeting, and I hope I can keep my shit together long enough to impress Canon Holt.
“Gentlemen,” she says when we reach the tent. “I believe you’re expecting…”
She turns to me with brows lifted. “I didn’t even ask. What’s your name?”
“Verity Hill.” I ping a glance between the two men, who stand from the table to greet me.
“Nice to meet you, Verity,” she says. “I’m Arietta.”
