My manager was punishing me. Why else would he schedule an early morning meeting on a Friday? He knew my weekends were sacred.
We had just wrapped up the fourth season of my show, and I only had a few glorious months of freedom and free weekends to enjoy before we started filming again.
And yet here I was, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed (okay, not really) in the lobby of the swankiest high-rise building on California Street to meet my asshole of a lawyer. I legitimately hated everything about him – the way he talked, the way he dressed, even the way he breathed – but when it came to celebrity DUIs, he was the best in the business.
I was giving my information to the baby-faced chump at the front desk ("I'm Liam Black, how do you not know this?" "I don't have my driver's license, you idiot!" "The State of California took it, which is why I'm here!") when he suddenly stood up from his chair and waved his fingers in an effeminate way. The kid started to giggle, so I had to turn around and see for myself what was going on.
Just as I suspected, it was a pretty girl. Wait a minute.
The pretty girl was Danielle.
She was wearing glasses and an impeccable black suit. I wondered who her tailor was, because, damn. Her dark hair was straight as a pin (she wore it in loose waves last night) and her black Louboutins were sky high. I was beginning to suspect she wasn't an actress like she had told me.
I walked away from the chump at the front desk, who was so distracted by her that he didn't even notice the security breach, and followed Danielle to the elevators. She was talking to a young redhead in a navy dress who was holding two coffees and hanging onto Danielle's every word like she was the Pope doling out blessings.
"Danielle," I said, walking up to her. "Hi."
The redhead eyed me curiously before turning to her superior. "Danielle?" she asked.
Sweet baby Jesus.
Did "Danielle" give me a fake name?
Not-Danielle chuckled. "I was out with Mia last night," she explained.
I couldn't believe this. Not-Danielle and Not-Alice both gave us fake names – like Tony and I were schmucks that they hoped to never see again!
"Ohh," the redhead said, nodding. "Celebrating the divorce settlement you won her?"
"Something like that," Not-Danielle laughed. The elevator doors opened, but Not-Danielle didn't follow her minion in, which was a wise decision. I was so going to grill her about last night - minion in the elevator with us or not.
"Rachel, I'll meet you up there," she said. "Will you get the conference room ready for the deposition?"
"Of course. Oh, and do you want your espresso?" Rachel asked, holding out one of the coffee cups. Not-Danielle grabbed it and thanked her before the doors closed.
"My name is Gemma," she said to me, sipping her espresso and preemptively answering my first question.
Gemma clearly wasn't the least bit apologetic for any of her actions. She pressed the up button again.
"You told me you were an actress," I said accusingly.
"I never told you that."
"Yes, you did."
"No, I didn't. If I remember correctly – and trust me, I do – you asked, 'You must be an actress, right?' And I replied with-"
"'Something like that,'" we said in unison.
I hated feeling stupid, and Gemma was doing a really good job of it. But it was kind of hot, in a sick and twisted sort of way. I had always thought of myself as more of a sadist, but maybe I was becoming a masochist in my old age.
"So what is it that you do, exactly, Miss Something-Like-An-Actress?" I asked, imagining Gemma in S&M-inspired black leather lingerie.
"I'm a lawyer," she said. As much as it turned me on that she was some hot shot lawyer – even more so than imagining her in leather lingerie – I didn't see how that was remotely like being an actress.
Before I could point that out, Gemma spoke. "I think it's my turn to ask a question. What are you doing in my building?"
"You really don't know who I am, do you?" I asked incredulously. My DUI arrest and male model-esque mugshot had been the talk of the town all week, and "her" building was home to the best entertainment law firms in the city. If she had any idea who I was, she would have put two and two together.
"Le- Liam, right?"
"Right. Liam Black."
She just stared at me blankly.
This was getting seriously embarrassing. How did she not know who I was?
"You know, from Confessions of a Hollywood Vampire?" I offered hopefully. "Dominic Lucini?"
She shook her head.
"It's on The CW?"
"Oh," Gemma said, nodding. "That makes a lot of sense. I don't watch The CW."
Ouch.
The elevator doors opened after what seemed like an eternity. I chivalrously allowed Gemma to enter first.
"I don't remember what floor my attorney is on," I confessed, staring at the sea of elevator buttons.
"Who's your attorney?"
"Saul Goldbloom."
"Good ol' Saul," Gemma said, chuckling to herself.
My face and neck became itchy with embarrassment. Saul was notorious for his high profile cases and clientele, and I had no doubt that Gemma was familiar with his work. "He's on 14," she said, pressing 14 and 18.
We stood there in uncomfortable silence. Well, I stood there in uncomfortable silence. Gemma was reading emails on her phone.
I couldn't help but feel like a jackass standing next to someone who clearly had her shit together. I wasn't a fan of this dynamic, but even so...
"Are you seeing anyone?"
Gemma raised an eyebrow, but didn't look up from her phone. "No," she said.
Interesting. She didn't even pause to think about her response. Maybe her booty call of a neighbor wasn't competition after all.
"Good," I said, smiling at her.
She didn't smile back.
The doors opened at the 14th floor, but I made no move to exit. She finally looked up from her phone.
"Liam," Gemma said impatiently, "This is you."
I loved how she said my name. Her silky voice had a low register, which was really sexy, and right now it had an edge to it that was even sexier. Granted, the edge was probably because she was annoyed with me, but that was okay.
"Saul can wait," I said, pressing the door close button.
Gemma sighed and lowered her phone. "Liam, I'm sure you're a halfway decent guy," she said unenthusiastically, "But you and I are just not going to happen."
"And why is that?" I asked, offended.
The doors opened at the 18th floor.
"I don't have time to give you all my reasons," she said, "But for one, I don't get involved with celebrities."
Maybe not yet, but you will. Instead of saying that, I asked, "Then what was last night?"
"Last night," she said, "Was me not knowing who you were."
Oof. And with that swift blow to my ego, Gemma walked away from me without so much as a second glance. I had no choice but to follow her, as I was the rat to her pied piper, the masochist to her sadist.
We were only a few steps out of the elevator when a booming voice called out to her.
"Gemma!"
She cursed under her breath.
"Hello, Emile," Gemma said. I watched as Emile Vaughn, named partner of Vaughn & Carmichael, greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. Emile was a silver fox who looked exactly how a Hollywood lawyer should look. He was a handsome older man in his late forties, maybe early fifties, but I was sure he could bag a twenty-something with his charm alone. Standing there in his Prada eyeglasses and custom suit, even I was starting to develop a guy crush on this powerful man.
"Liam Black, how are you?" he asked, shaking my hand firmly. "And have you met my brilliant daughter? She was just named one of the hottest lawyers under thirty by Business Insider!"
"Really, Emile?" she asked, exasperated. "I don't know why you keep bringing that up like it's some legitimate accomplishment."
This was amazing. Gemma was Emile Vaughn's daughter. He was a first class schmoozer, and he loved celebrities – myself included – and celebrities loved him back. I met him at a movie premier after party last month, but I had heard of him long before that. Emile had congratulated me on making People's sexiest man list (which, in my opinion, was indeed an accomplishment), and we proceeded to discuss Dominic's romantic interests on Confessions of a Hollywood Vampire. Like I said, first class schmoozer. He had given me his business card "just in case," and then he went on to work the rest of the room.
"Yes, we've had the pleasure of meeting," I said to Emile. "And I'm not at all surprised about Business Insider."
"Liam, I must admit," he said, "I was disappointed you didn't call me after your little brush with the law."
"I'm sorry, Emile. My manager made me go with Saul Goldbloom, but, to be honest, I don't think he and I are a good fit."
I glanced at Gemma, who seemed displeased by this entire exchange. And I was about to make this so much worse for her.
"After we get this plea deal hashed out, I'll be looking for a new lawyer," I continued, my eyes still on Gemma. She was glaring daggers at me, which I enjoyed greatly. "Perhaps one with a glowing endorsement from Business Insider?"
Emile laughed heartily. He looked to his daughter, but she stood there in silence, her mouth set in a grim line.
"Gemma, don't make the poor man beg!" Emile exclaimed.
Did he know nothing about his daughter? Gemma was absolutely going to make me beg, but I was oddly okay with it. I was prepared to get down on my knees for this one. (Yes, literally.)
"Liam, I specialize in family law," she said apologetically. "You'd be better served by an attorney with more relevant experience."
Gemma glanced down at her gold Cartier watch. "I have to go," she said. I thought back to last night when she glanced at my watch. I had assumed it was an excuse to touch me, but now I realized that she was just checking the time.
"I have a defendant coming in for a deposition," she said. "Good day, gentlemen."
I watched her walk through the doors of Vaughn & Carmichael in complete awe.
"She's a spitfire, that one," Emile chuckled.
"I've noticed."
"How'd you two meet?"
I paused.
"She was at Celestial with a client – I believe her name was Mia – and I struck up a conversation," I said. While none of this was false, it wasn't the entire truth, either.
Emile whistled. "Gemma negotiated one hell of a settlement for Mrs. Gauthier. She's on track to be the youngest partner in this firm," he said with fatherly pride. "Now, while Gemma does specialize in family law and her clientele is usually female, I'm the managing partner of this firm, not her. And I think she needs to expand her horizons in terms of cases-" he gave me a nod "-and clientele."
Emile Vaughn. My man.
He opened his wallet. "With Gemma in your corner, you won't lose. And if you do lose, it's because you were going to lose anyway, but she'll make it a lot less painful," he said. "Here's her business card."
* * * * * *
I googled her – doesn't that sound dirty? – as soon as I got home. I learned that Gemma was the only child to Emile Vaughn and French soap opera star Henriette Zhang. And yes, Henriette was a certified MILF.
Gemma graduated from Stanford University with a degree in Women's Studies at the tender age of nineteen. She went on to kill it at Stanford Law School and ultimately joined her dad's prestigious law firm upon graduating.
There were several photos of her dressed to the nines from various fundraisers and galas, but I couldn't find her on Facebook or Instagram. She was probably one of those people above social media. I was disappointed by the meager results of my Internet stalk-fest, but I couldn't say I was shocked. I had come to the conclusion that Gemma Vaughn was put on this earth to torture me and drive me to insanity. I had lived a charmed life before I met her, perhaps too charmed, but all that had ended when she had elbowed me in the face.
I fixed myself a giant bowl of Froot Loops, which was definitely not Paleo, but desperate times (rejection) called for desperate measures (empty calories). I shoveled the colorful sugary goodness into my face and texted Tony.
Me: Yo. How was your night?
Tony: It was awesome... until she started to cry during sex. Apparently I reminded her of her ex-husband. I went soft and then she cried even harder.
Me: Shit dude.
Tony: Yeaaaah. How was yours?
Me: Not much better. Tried for anal and got thrown out of her apartment.
Tony: LOL
Me: Stfu.
Tony: So much for being a sex god
Me: You're an asshole.
Tony: Tell me something I don't know. Hey, wana do Nobu for dinner?
Me: Can't tonight. I already have plans...
Tony: ?
Tony: K.
* * * * * *
I hope you enjoyed this chapter, lovely reader. Gemma's POV is up next. Let me know what you think of The Fakers so far by leaving a comment or voting!