honest. Under the fake hair, layers of makeup and skimpy outfits, Delilah knew she was a plain girl fooling everybody into believing she was sexy.
“Marcus is probably there right now making out with a Spanish boy,” Delilah decided to take a sip of the vodka, but instantly wished she hadn't.
“I wouldn't have let you come back here on your own.”
“I can look after myself!” she said defensively.
“You obviously can, but I'd still want to make sure you got home safely.”
Again, he looked honest and genuine. There was no hint of flirtation in his voice, which was so refreshing for Delilah. She found herself wanting him to flirt, so then at least she could place the feelings he gave her in her stomach.
“I don't need a man to save me, just so you know,” she pointed at him, “I've managed to tackle my way through this industry on my own, and it's not been easy. This girl can still handle herself.”
“That's the East-End in you,” he winked as he leaned further into his hand.
It sounded like something her mother would say. It only made her realize she hadn't spoken to her for over a month, and made the homesickness she'd felt for a long time, rumble away.
“I don't feel like that East-End girl anymore,” she laughed, “that's been truly stamped out of me.”
“You shouldn't need to change for anybody,” Nolan whispered.
A strand of hair freed itself as she turned to face him. Without hesitation, he reached out and tucked it behind her ear again.
“Try and tell that to my manager Tony.”
“Okay, where is he?” Nolan glanced around the bar.
Delilah had almost forgotten that it was filled with men mumbling in Spanish to each other.
“In LA, in hospital recovering from a hip replacement.”
“Not so easy then,” he winked, “I'll be sure to write a strongly worded letter.”
She couldn't tell if he was being serious or not, but it warmed her. She couldn't imagine André telling her not to change. The truth was, André barely knew her, and their relationship only came about after both of their managers introduced them for a photo opportunity when she was in Paris. They got talking and there was some chemistry, but she was sure it was purely sexual. There wasn't much else going on.
“Tony's not a bad guy, it's just the way the game works.”
“Should it be?”
Delilah shrugged. She'd thought about it before, but she never argued. She cared about the money she sent back to her family far too much to jeopardize her situation.
“I'm not in a position to change it.”
“Of course you are!” he whispered, “You should be able to create whatever art you want.”
“That doesn't make money.”
She could feel herself getting angry at the questioning. Mainly because, something inside her agreed with everything he was saying. It was as if he was awakening Delilah Smith with every word.
“Money isn't important. I mean, it helps, but it's not important.”
“It is if you want to live!” she snapped, “You think I'm all about partying and being a diva, but that's not why I got into it. I got into it to make money for my family. The rest of it is just white noise and I go along with it to do what I need to do.”
“And that's what makes you interesting,” he leaned in.
She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. It was as if he knew everything she'd just told him, and he couldn't get that from a simple internet search. She kept her opinions on her work to herself.
Nolan could see the real Delilah, and that made him even more attractive, and that was dangerous.
“It does, doesn't it?” she snapped back, “I told you. I'm not interesting.”
“If you weren't interesting, I wouldn't be sitting her talking to you and wasting my time. I have work to be getting on with in my room, but I'm enjoying getting to know you.”
“Well I'm sorry for wasting your time Nolan. You should get back to work,” her defense was back in place.
“Okay then,” he said, jumping
“Marcus is probably there right now making out with a Spanish boy,” Delilah decided to take a sip of the vodka, but instantly wished she hadn't.
“I wouldn't have let you come back here on your own.”
“I can look after myself!” she said defensively.
“You obviously can, but I'd still want to make sure you got home safely.”
Again, he looked honest and genuine. There was no hint of flirtation in his voice, which was so refreshing for Delilah. She found herself wanting him to flirt, so then at least she could place the feelings he gave her in her stomach.
“I don't need a man to save me, just so you know,” she pointed at him, “I've managed to tackle my way through this industry on my own, and it's not been easy. This girl can still handle herself.”
“That's the East-End in you,” he winked as he leaned further into his hand.
It sounded like something her mother would say. It only made her realize she hadn't spoken to her for over a month, and made the homesickness she'd felt for a long time, rumble away.
“I don't feel like that East-End girl anymore,” she laughed, “that's been truly stamped out of me.”
“You shouldn't need to change for anybody,” Nolan whispered.
A strand of hair freed itself as she turned to face him. Without hesitation, he reached out and tucked it behind her ear again.
“Try and tell that to my manager Tony.”
“Okay, where is he?” Nolan glanced around the bar.
Delilah had almost forgotten that it was filled with men mumbling in Spanish to each other.
“In LA, in hospital recovering from a hip replacement.”
“Not so easy then,” he winked, “I'll be sure to write a strongly worded letter.”
She couldn't tell if he was being serious or not, but it warmed her. She couldn't imagine André telling her not to change. The truth was, André barely knew her, and their relationship only came about after both of their managers introduced them for a photo opportunity when she was in Paris. They got talking and there was some chemistry, but she was sure it was purely sexual. There wasn't much else going on.
“Tony's not a bad guy, it's just the way the game works.”
“Should it be?”
Delilah shrugged. She'd thought about it before, but she never argued. She cared about the money she sent back to her family far too much to jeopardize her situation.
“I'm not in a position to change it.”
“Of course you are!” he whispered, “You should be able to create whatever art you want.”
“That doesn't make money.”
She could feel herself getting angry at the questioning. Mainly because, something inside her agreed with everything he was saying. It was as if he was awakening Delilah Smith with every word.
“Money isn't important. I mean, it helps, but it's not important.”
“It is if you want to live!” she snapped, “You think I'm all about partying and being a diva, but that's not why I got into it. I got into it to make money for my family. The rest of it is just white noise and I go along with it to do what I need to do.”
“And that's what makes you interesting,” he leaned in.
She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. It was as if he knew everything she'd just told him, and he couldn't get that from a simple internet search. She kept her opinions on her work to herself.
Nolan could see the real Delilah, and that made him even more attractive, and that was dangerous.
“It does, doesn't it?” she snapped back, “I told you. I'm not interesting.”
“If you weren't interesting, I wouldn't be sitting her talking to you and wasting my time. I have work to be getting on with in my room, but I'm enjoying getting to know you.”
“Well I'm sorry for wasting your time Nolan. You should get back to work,” her defense was back in place.
“Okay then,” he said, jumping
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