Royal Playboy

by Nana Malone

  “Nonsense. You have to start believing it, my girl.”

  I shrugged. “I’m not looking to be a star. I just want to breathe life into my characters to the best of my ability and get paid for what I love.”

  “And that will be good enough,” he said with a paternal grin. The man was more of a father to me than my own. “You don’t have to wait any longer.” With my arm looped into his, I let him lead me down the auditorium stairs of the rehearsal hall to the stage.

  “I can’t believe you’ve been keeping the male lead such a secret.”

  He chuckled. “I wasn't allowed to say anything because I didn't know if we could get him released from his current filming obligations in time, but here he is. I believe you are already familiar with Ryan Ellison.”

  My step faltered at the sound of the name, making Charles take the final step without me. As a result, I stumbled into the one person I never wanted to see again. Ryan was technically a student at RADA, but he’d put his studies on hold for a BBC series. After the series, he’d gotten a big Spielberg film. He was a huge star now. He was also my ex, the one person with the power to hurt and destroy me.

  I reflexively flinched from his touch when he reached out to steady me. Run. Say something. Anything. This was not happening. There was no way I could work with him. Not after what he’d done to me. How he’d hurt me. When I opened my mouth, all that came out was “I—wh-what…”

  Ryan, it seemed, did not suffer the same affliction. “Imani, it’s good to see you. Congratulations on being cast as Carmen.” His smile was warm, engaging. It was the smile he’d given me a million times. The one he used to make people trust him.

  Charles found the words for me. “Ryan, Imani, I’m so excited I can hardly contain myself. We’re going to make the production one for the ages. Ryan, with your star power and Imani’s rising star, there is no reason we can’t take this production and its stars to the West End.”

  Panic started to overtake me. I couldn’t work with him. But you can’t quit, either. This is your dream. I’d worked hard to get there. And there was no way I was giving it up because of that asshole. I’d talk to Charles.

  “Actually, Charles, if I could have a moment—“

  But he had already slung an arm over each of our shoulders. “I have another surprise for you two. Since this production is such a big deal, the school has arranged for a photo shoot with the cast.”

  “That’s great, Charles,” Ryan said. Everything about his voice made my anger simmer inside. I turned slowly to face him, schooling my expression. Projecting a calm I didn’t feel, I managed to keep my expression placid and cool.

  The doors to the studio opened, and in walked a pretty black girl with reddish-brown braids. She laughed as she said something to someone behind her.

  "Oh, here are the photographers now. I can’t believe we were able to get Xander Chase to photograph for us. A photo shoot with him normally costs more than my car."

  "Who's Xander Chase?" I frowned.

  Charles chuckled and tilted his head. "That's Xander Chase."

  I tracked the direction of his chin and the gaze of every other female in the room. They were all focused on the doorway.

  Behind the girl strode in the most beautiful man I'd ever seen. And he was all too familiar. His sandy-blond hair fell over his brow, and he was laughing with the girl in front of him. His smile was unfiltered and had the power to make women stare. “Oh, shit.” Alexander.

  Charles laughed. "Yeah. You would not be the first woman, or man for that matter, to say that."

  “I—uh. I'm not, uh..." Stop talking. Just stop. There was something about the way he looked at the girl. He was totally smitten with her. A knot of pain twisted around my stomach. Suck it up. It’s not like last night was special. As far as he was concerned, I was the worst escort known to mankind. Why was this my life? First Ryan, now this.

  "Wipe the drool off your lip, darling.” Ryan’s voice was mocking. “Let’s go meet our photographer."

  Charles led the way while I tried to find a good reason for escape. My breathing accelerated as I drew nearer to him. Hot and sexy looked up with a smile, his gaze focused on my director. "Charles?" He stuck out his hand. "Good to meet you, mate." Indicating the girl, he added, "This is my assistant, Abbie Nartey."

  "Pleasure." Charles tugged Ryan and I closer. There was no way to avoid it, so I went with it and stumbled forward. "These are our stars, Imani Aysem Brooks and Ryan Ellison."

  I didn’t dare meet Xander’s gaze. Not that I could avoid it. There was no kind of manual to deal with these kinds of situations. Like, here is what to do in the instance of pretending to be an escort the night before, then running into the person the next morning. Nor did I think there was a Hallmark card for such an occasion. Cowardly as I was, I chose to shake Abbie's hand first. It was probably safer that way. The girl smiled warmly at me. "Congratulations. I hear Carmen is a great part."

  I relaxed marginally. "You’re American.”

  Abbie laughed. “It’s nice to hear a familiar accent.”

  “It is. And thank you. We’ll see if I can do the part justice." Peripherally, I could hear Ryan and Xander exchanging greetings. Be calm. Be calm. Be calm. And shit, if you can’t be calm, fake that shit till you make it. Inwardly bracing myself, I turned my attention to Xander and offered my hand while Ryan introduced himself to Abbie.

  Xander’s jovial grin had morphed into a scowl. The slight cock of his head indicated confusion, and his narrowed eyes did an excellent job of communicating his anger. The intensity of his glare was enough to make my teeth lock together. Would he out me? He couldn’t. At least not without outing himself too.

  He glanced at my hand then back at my face, and heat prickled my skin. I sure as hell wasn’t going to be intimidated, though. It wasn’t as if I’d planned this. Stubbornly, I kept my hand out, daring him to shame himself by not taking it. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Xander. Charles was just telling me how lucky we are to have you both."

  His scowl only deepened, and his slate-gray eyes darkened. Lips pressed into a thin line, he took my hand, and I immediately wished he hadn’t. It was like holding on to a live wire, the spike of electricity was so strong.

  His much larger hand enveloped mine, and his nostrils flared slightly as his pupils dilated. Despite the hostility, a flicker of awareness bloomed, and as far as my body was concerned, we were the only two people in the room. My brain did me no favors as it recalled the hot need flooding my veins as he took my nipple into his mouth, or the way he’d coaxed my orgasm out of me with his words.

  My brain tried to give the command to let go of his hand or pull back. Something. Instead, we stayed locked in that position. The charged electricity tore down the walls between us, baring our souls to each other. The only word that my brain registered was want. Even after that mind-numbing orgasm last night. One he’d given me with very little effort on his part. The heat pooling between my thighs didn’t lie. Even if I’d admonished myself a million times since running out of his flat that morning, it didn't change the fact that I responded to him in a way I didn’t think I’d be able to respond to anyone ever again. What the hell was wrong with me?

  And then I felt it, the stroke of his thumb over my knuckle. He might not even have realized he was doing it because his wide-eyed expression mirrored my surprise.

  Jerking my hand back, I turned my attention to Abbie, who was now glaring at Xander. I tensed. Shit. Was I about to be at the center of some kind of lover's spat? Stupid, stupid, stupid. It was totally not my fault. The guy was walking sex appeal… with a penchant for hookers. Okay, maybe a little my fault. I plastered what I hoped was an appropriate mea culpa expression on my face.

  But when Abbie turned to face me, her expression was just as warm as before. "Why don’t we get you set up with lighting."

  Uh, okay… Maybe they had some weird polyamorous thing going. No judgment. Except, maybe a little judgment. I couldn’t imagine sharing someone li
ke Xander.

  After I cleared my throat and regained my composure, I said, "Sure thing," then led the way down the stairs to the stage, refusing to turn back. Even though I could feel the heat of Xander's scowl on my back.

  Xander

  What the fuck? I stared at my hand flexing it, then stared back up at Abbie and Imani's retreating forms. My life had just gotten a hell of a lot more complicated. I nearly vibrated with anger and residual need. I’d known the girl was no escort, but this? She’d taken a hell of a risk last night for what? A role? Research? What if I’d been some kind of nutter?

  "Is there a problem?" Charles's soft question was my first clue that I was acting like I was a complete nutter. Bloody fantastic.

  "Nope. Everything’s wicked. Let's get started, shall we?"

  "Yeah, right this way. For this shoot, we wanted to focus on the announcement of the leads. The final play each year is usually a pretty big deal. It’s an even bigger deal this year because of the play and our actors. Ryan has been building a portfolio here in Britain for years now, since he was a child, so he’s well-known. But Imani is a newcomer.”

  Ryan interjected. "Let me just say I'm a huge fan of your work. I was at your gallery opening at The Tate."

  "Uh, thanks." That opening seemed like a million lifetimes ago.

  "I'm excited you're going to be photographing us. Imani's pretty nervous, so if you need help getting her to cooperate, I can help with that. We’re pretty close."

  The note of boastfulness set my nerves on edge, and I slid Ryan a glance. But the guy wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at Imani. I didn't like the proprietary way he looked at her. It was clear to anyone that this moron wanted her. And that knowledge was enough to nearly blind me with rage. Mine. I’d been the one making her come last night. Just the mention of her name was enough to set my teeth on edge, and I clamped my jaw together. Fuck, I really needed to get a grip. Get your shit together.

  Charles continued. “Obviously Imani’s American, one of the few in the program, and for all intents and purposes, she’s the star. So it's really her debut, and we want to make it as splashy as possible. Shane McQueen is the writer, and it's an adaptation of her novel from two years ago."

  I remembered the one. It was a gritty tale of a woman's journey from the back-alley streets of Soho where her mother had been a prostitute to Fleet Street and the love she had to give up to get there. It had won a slew of awards both here and across the pond, and it sat at the top of the charts for months. McQueen had said that she would never sell the rights for a film but would support producing it for the stage. For RADA to have it was a huge coup, especially since it could have easily opened on the West End or on Broadway.

  I had a hard time accepting that a little slip of a girl like Imani could carry a role like that. "Is she any good?"

  Charles grinned. "She's amazing. And the best part is she has no idea. She embodies both the ingénue and the vamp. It's why the selection committee chose her to attend here. Imani slips in and out of characters so easily, like she's putting on a pretty frock. No matter how ugly the role is, she attacks it. You believe she is the character. You should come to the opening. I'll secure you tickets."

  Bollocks to that. There was no way I was sitting through a performance by that girl. Especially since I already knew how soft she was. My cock begged to differ as my erection strained against my jeans. I’d likely have a permanent imprint of my zipper.

  Maybe it was possible for Abbie to do this one on her own. She’d been working with me for months now, and she was good. Very good. Anything to avoid being this close to Imani. Coward.

  In the distance, she and Abbie laughed over something, and it felt like I was punched in the gut. My gaze flickered to Abbie first, but it was Imani that held it. With an animated smile on her face and her eyes lit with humor, she was stunning to look at.

  Easy does it. I sucked in a deep breath and tried to steady myself, but my brain conjured up scenarios I didn't need. I already knew how she kissed, how soft her skin was, what her pussy felt like milking my fingers. The part of my brain I normally kept under lock and key conjured up darker images that made me tight and itchy. Like that wide sexy mouth and what would it look like wrapped around my—

  “I’ll just help Abbie get set up, then we’ll be on our way.” I unpacked my camera and attached the strap to keep my hands busy. Excusing myself, I started with the lighting set up. Normally Abbie would do it on her own, but I needed something more to do with my hands.

  From the corner of my eye, I watched as Charles had Ryan and Imani take their marks. Imani recited several of her lines, and I stared. Hell, everyone stared. It was just a couple of lines, but for that moment, she commanded everyone around her.

  Abbie’s voice broke my reverie. "You want to tell me who shoved that stick up your ass?"

  I cocked my head. "I'm British, this is just how I am. No stick up the ass required."

  "Don’t be daft, Xander. I know when something is going on with you. You want to tell me why you’re being such a douche to that poor girl?"

  She always knew when something was going on with me, and I didn't like it. She was privy to information about my past that I would rather not have her know. "I'm not being arsey. I'm just getting ready to work."

  "As your brother would say, bollocks. What’s going on?"

  I ground my teeth together. What the hell did she know? "Everything is fine. Let's just get to work."

  She spread her arms. "I came ready to work. You’re the one acting all crazy. Sniping at that girl."

  “Fucking drop it, Abbie. You are my assistant. Act like it.”

  She blinked at me in surprise, then threw her hands up. “It’s your show. Like always. But try to keep in mind that this is my career too. I’m hitched to you like an unwanted albatross. So your damage is my damage.”

  I could see the hurt in her eyes, and I wanted to make it better, to soothe the lash, but I couldn’t seem to contain the anger ricocheting inside me.

  I snatched up my favorite Nikon and left Abbie to finish the lighting. I didn't need the shrink lesson from her. Not right now. I had work to do.

  Chapter Eight

  Imani

  I placed my hands against the brick in the courtyard and sucked in several deep breaths. What the fuck was I going to do? I would give a million dollars to start the day all over again. As it was, I was already in the hole a couple of grand. What was a million more?

  “Think, Imani, think. There is a way out of this mess. You just have to find it.” One problem at a time. Of my current stink piles, Ryan was the most pressing. I had to talk to Charles—alone. And pronto. For the last two years, I’d been trying to bury the memories of my first year in London. I’d worked my ass off to get back to normal. No way was I going back to being that girl. “Are you out here hiding from me or from our new photographer?”

  Hearing Ryan behind me, I whirled around with my hands up. When in doubt, go for bravado. I tilted my chin up. "Maybe you've forgotten how this works. You stay the fuck away from me, you don’t touch me, you don’t speak to me, you don’t even so much as look at me, and you get to keep your nutsack. I can’t imagine that is hard for you to remember. What the fuck are you doing here? You must have known I had the lead."

  His smile was slight but practiced. "Charles called, and it was a good part. You can’t expect me to not take a job that would be good for my career.”

  I shook my head. “I should have known all those pleas for forgiveness were total bullshit. You gave me your word, but here you still are.”

  He ran his hands through his hair. “Look, what happened between us was… regrettable. But I don’t know how long you expect me to pay penance for it. I fucked up. I know it. I’ve said I’m sorry. I’ve given you space to heal or forget or whatever. But I need to work. If you don’t want to be near me, then you can quit.”

  Anger coursed through me, making me vibrate. “Regrettable? Did you just fucking say regrettable? Y
ou know what you did to me. You knew the second you did it. That’s why you showed up at my flat the next day crying like a baby, begging for my forgiveness. And you thought I would just conveniently forget? That it’s been two whole years, so I wouldn’t remember?” I stared him down, daring him to refute my words, and he had the good sense to slide his gaze away. “What you did…” My voice broke and trailed off. How dare he stroll back into my life and think I would have no problem with him?

  “I’m sorry, Imani. I never meant to hurt you. But it’s been long enough. You can’t punish me forever.”

  I dug into a well of strength I wasn’t sure I had, but I wasn't letting him get away with this like he had before. I was not the same girl, alone and ashamed and willing to accept my culpability. “Why don’t we call a spade a spade, Ryan? You raped me. I loved you, and you raped me.”

  He flinched backward as if I’d physically slapped him. “You know it wasn’t like that. You act like I was some stranger who dragged you off the street and assaulted you.”

  “You did assault me, you piece of shit. I said no.”

  He took a step toward me, and I immediately took one back. “I’m not going to hurt you. Jesus, Imani. We had been drinking. And you—you were looking so beautiful, and you were my girlfriend. And you wanted me. I know you did. It wasn’t like I was trying to hurt you. I just wanted to be close to you. I never—Fuck. I didn’t know you were a virgin. I thought you were messing me about.”

  Hearing those words from him was like having a bucket of ice poured over me. “What part didn’t you understand, asshole? When I said no? Or the part where I begged you to stop? Or the part where I said that you were hurting me? Or maybe it was the part where I was crying uncontrollably as you kept going?”