I still can’t believe what I did. I didn’t even tell Nick when he called last night, and I tell him everything. That tells you of my level of mortification.
Ava was surprised when I said Vaughn hadn’t turned up, said it wasn’t like him and that she’d call his assistant to rearrange the fitting.
I didn’t want her to call Alex, as he knew that Vaughn had shown up and it was me who was the problem. So, I told her not to bother, that I’d call him.
That’s why I now find myself having to call Alex again—not so I can go apologize to his boss again, but this time, to actually get these clothes fitted. That is, if Vaughn will actually let me anywhere near him. Good thing is, I have the fitting for the Armani pants, so I can adjust all his other pants in line with those. There’s only some shirts, a few vests, and several suit jackets for him to try on for me.
Part of me doesn’t ever want to see him again after yesterday. And not just because of the stabbing incident, but because of the whole cock-warmer thing.
I feel my cheeks start to heat with embarrassment at the memory.
He was totally right; it was a cock warmer.
Not that I’d ever admit that to him.
I just hadn’t thought of that when I was making it for him. I’d thought I was being helpful, and I’d wanted to make amends for hurting him.
But all that happened was, I ended up yelling at him again.
I’m surprised he didn’t have me fired after that. I would have had me fired. God knows what Millie did to get herself fired. I’ve stabbed the guy, yelled at him, and made him a warmer for his cock, and I still have a job.
God, yesterday was a total disaster.
I guess it’s true what they say; you should never meet your idol because your illusion just might be shattered.
I mean, Vaughn West wasn’t exactly my idol, more like a sexual fantasy, but whatever because, honestly, I wish I’d never met him.
I’ll never be able to imagine him in any other way than with a pin stuck in one of his balls now.
And he’s also a mean jerk.
A handsome, super-hot, mean jerk.
I stop in Starbucks on the way to the studio and grab a caramel latte, needing some caffeine before I speak to Alex. Then, I make the call.
“Alex Larson speaking.”
“Hi, Alex. It’s Charly. From wardrobe.”
“Oh, hey. It’s my new favorite girl, Pins.” He chuckles.
Pins?
Ugh.
That’s what Vaughn called me right before I flipped him the bird yesterday. Shit, I forgot I had done that as well.
“Yeah, it’s, uh, me.”
“What can I do for you?”
“Well…” I bite my lip. “I still need to fit those clothes for Vaughn—not the pants,” I’m quick to say. “Just shirts, a few vests, and some suit jackets.”
“Mmhmm.”
“Would he be able to come in for a fitting today, as they’re needed for shots tomorrow?”
“He’s got meetings all morning, and then he’s running lines all afternoon.”
“Oh.” Shit.
“Does he not have any space at all to fit me in? I’ll only need thirty minutes, max. I can come to him, wherever, to save him the journey.”
“Okay, come to the hotel at six p.m. You remember his suite number?”
“Yes.” Not forgetting that anytime soon. “Thanks, Alex. You’re a lifesaver.”
“Anytime.”
“Alex…will he be okay with me coming to fit him?”
He laughs. “Guess we’ll see when you get here. See you later, Pins.”
He hangs up, and I stare down at the phone, feeling a little sick.
Oh well, I don’t have any other choice than to go. I have a job to do. I’ll just apologize—again—for yelling at him, calling him an asshole and a jerk, and giving him the middle finger. I won’t let him rile me up. And I definitely won’t be taking him any more I’m-sorry gifts; that’s for sure.
Chapter 7
Charly
Six p.m. sharp, I’m standing outside Vaughn’s hotel room with his clothes hanging over my arm in a garment bag, my sewing case in my hand.
I’m wearing my dark blue distressed skinny jeans, an oversized beige sweater that falls off the shoulder, and my leopard-print Christian Louboutins that I found in a secondhand charity shop in SoHo. I swear, I nearly cried with happiness that day; they were practically brand-new. I like to think they belonged to a celebrity who was clearing out her last-season items. I now make it a point to visit that charity shop every chance I get. Hanging from my shoulder is my knock off Gucci Dionysus GG Supreme mini bag. I love her. If only she were real. My hair is tied back in a sleek ponytail. My eye makeup is light. My lips are painted red.
I look good. I feel good.
I push my shoulder back, take a deep breath, fix a smile on my face, and knock on the door.
You can do this, Charly. Yesterday was yesterday. Today is a new day.
I hear footsteps approaching the door, and it swings open, revealing someone who’s not Vaughn.
Oh.
Oddly, I feel a flash of disappointment. I wanted to make an impression. A good impression.
The guy looks to be around my age or a little older. With close-cropped brown hair, he has on a pair of black-framed glasses, and he’s wearing jeans, a navy-blue shirt, and a pair of Vans.
“Hi.” I smile wide. “I’m Charly. I’m here to fit Mr. West—I mean, do a fitting for Mr. West. I’m from the studio. I work in wardrobe. I’m a wardrobe assistant.”
For fuck’s sake, Charly.
I do a mental eye roll at myself.
He smiles. “Hey, Charly. I’m Alex. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
Oh, it’s Alex. Duh.
“Good to meet you, too, after speaking to you twice on the phone.” I laugh lightly.
“Here, let me help you.”
He gestures to the garment bag, so I hand it to him. He seems nice. Much nicer than his boss.
“Come in,” he says.
I walk past him and into Vaughn’s suite. Then, I hang near the door before following him over to the dining table on the other side of the room—where I gave Vaughn his cock warmer last night.
Dear God.
“Did you get a cab over with this stuff?” Alex asks, putting the clothes down on the dining table.
“I did.” I put my sewing kit and handbag next to the clothes on the table.
“How much was it?”
“Oh, like ten bucks.”
He gets his wallet from his pocket and pulls up a ten-dollar bill.
“No, it’s fine.” I wave him off. “It’s my fault I had to come over here to finish the fit.”
“You sure?” He checks before putting the bill away.
“I’m sure.” I smile.
“Well, I’ll have Vaughn’s driver take you home when you’re done. No need to get a cab back.”
Speaking of Vaughn…
I glance around for him.
“Vaughn’s just in the shower. He’ll be out in a few. Can I get you a drink?”
“A water would be great. Thanks.”
He goes over to a mini fridge and gets out a bottle of water.
“Thanks,” I say when he hands it to me. “So, was Mr. West okay about me coming to do the fitting?”
“Depends. You’re not armed, are you?”
I swivel at the sound of Vaughn’s voice behind me.
He’s standing in the doorway of what I’m guessing is the bedroom. His hair is wet from the shower. He’s wearing black trackpants and a fitted tank. He looks amazing.
Turns out, my attraction for him is still there—pin in ball sack aside.
He walks toward me. Eyes set on mine. My heart stutters.
He stops a foot away. “We need to stop meeting like this, Pins.” His voice is low, throaty. It does funny things to me. “People will start talking.”
“Hello, Mr. West. And please don’t call
me that.”
“Vaughn. And don’t call you what?”
“Pins.”
“Why not? I think it’s cute. And apt. Don’t you, Alex?” His head tips to the side as he casts a glance at Alex.
“Leave me out of this.” Alex chuckles from behind me.
Vaughn’s eyes come back to mine, and a smile graces his lips.
Damn, he looks good when he smiles.
“It’s not apt. It’s…insulting,” I state calmly. “And a little annoying.”
“It annoys you? Oh. Well then, of course, I’ll stop calling you it.”
“Thank you,” I exhale, relieved.
“No problem, Pins.”
Argh!
Deep breaths, Charly. He’s just doing it to wind you up. Don’t react.
“Right. I’m heading to my room—unless you need me to stay?”
I sense Alex move, but I can’t see what he’s doing because Vaughn and I are currently locked in a staring battle.
“Nah, you’re good to go,” Vaughn answers him, eyes still on me.
Don’t blink, Charly.
“Unless Pins plans on giving me another injury. Then, I might need you to stay. I know how lethal she can be. I have the hole in my ball to prove it.”
And I blink.
Mother-trucker!
He smiles a winning smile.
The hot jerk.
I grit my teeth and breathe out through my nose. Then, I fix a sickly sweet smile on my face. “I wasn’t planning on puncturing any more of your tiny body parts. But the night’s still young, so…maybe.” I lift my shoulder, causing my sweater to slip a little further. I see his eyes go to it and then back to my eyes.
“Tiny? Ha! You crack me up. Oh, and, Pins, the cock warmer you made me—extra-large, you said? Yeah, it doesn’t fit.”
“Too big?”
“Funny. Too small. Way too small.”
“I think I should stay,” Alex says. “You two might need a referee.”
“We’ll be fine.” I give Alex my most professional smile.
“Yeah, Pins and I will be just fine,” Vaughn states.
God, he’s an annoying, gorgeous bastard. How can I want to kiss his face off and smack him on it at the same time?
“Okay. Well, I’m just next door if you need me.”
I hear the door shut, signaling that Alex has left, and then it’s just Vaughn and me, alone.
Chapter 8
Vaughn
Maybe I should have had Alex stay. Not because I fear for my safety, but because I have the strong urge to fuck her.
I spent most of last night trying not to think about her.
And having her here isn’t helping anything. Arguing with her is like the best kind of foreplay ever.
Fuck, is she hot, and that mouth of hers…that fucking smart-ass, sexy mouth of hers that I would love to see wrapped around my cock.
But, nope, not gonna do it.
I’m just here for this movie. No fucking around.
I promised Jack and myself.
“So, we’re doing this?” My voice comes out sounding sharper than I intended.
“Yep. Put this on for me, please,” she says, holding out a crisp white shirt.
I take the shirt from her. “Should I put some music on? I know how you like to twerk before you work.” I snort at my own rhyme. I’m such a fucking loser. “I don’t have any of Madonna’s early stuff, but I think I have ‘Vogue’ on my phone. I’m pretty sure I remember the dance routine as well, if you want me to join in?”
She stares at me for a moment, and then laughter bursts from her. The sound is like sunshine. If sunshine had a sound.
“You’re such a tool.” She laughs again. “Just put the damn shirt on, so we can get this over with.”
A big grin on my face, I peel my tank off and put the shirt on, buttoning it up.
I notice she doesn’t once look at me. She busies herself with her sewing stuff at the dining table.
“Ready?” she asks.
“Yep.”
When she turns to me, she has that damn pincushion on her wrist again, and I swear to God, my balls shrink in on themselves.
“Do you have to use pins? They’re making my balls twitch.”
She snorts out a laugh. “Afraid so. But don’t worry; I won’t get you again.” She steps closer, and I get a whiff of raspberries and vanilla, like I smelled yesterday. “I promise.”
I stare down into her eyes. They’re blue. Dark. Like the color of blueberries.
“I’ll put my hand inside the fabric to protect your skin. I could have done that yesterday, but it didn’t seem appropriate to put my hand down your pants the first day I met you.”
I wouldn’t have minded. “That sounds like a bad pick-up line I’ve used in the past.”
She laughs again. It’s throatier this time. Sexy. And I decide that, from now on, I want to make her laugh all the time.
“Looking at this, I just need to hem the sides a little. I’m just going to put my hand up your shirt—”
“I bet you say that to all the boys.”
“Only to the pretty ones.” She smiles, glancing up at me through her lashes.
God, I want to fuck her so bad.
She slips her hand under the shirt. Her hand is cool against my heated skin. I suck in a breath.
“Sorry. Are my hands cold? I should’ve warmed them up first.”
Down my pants? Of course you can, sweetheart. “No, they’re fine. You’re fine.”
I grit my teeth and stare over her head at the wall. I force myself to think about my mother and my grandma, basically anything but the feel of her touching me.
In no time, she’s done and moving over to the other side of the shirt. Her hand brushes over my abdomen. She stills. “Sorry,” she says, her cheeks turning pink.
“Don’t be. So far, you’ve nailed me in the balls, seen me in only my boxer shorts, and made a cock warmer for me. What difference is a little ab-groping going to make?”
She shakes her head, laughing. “And people say I’m odd.”
“I prefer the term unconventional.”
Her eyes flash up to mine, surprise filling them.
“What?” I ask her.
“Nothing.” She shakes her head, her eyes clearing. “Okay, you’re done.” She steps back. “I just need to measure up the vest and jacket. I can size the rest from those. You need me to help you take that off?”
I don’t, but I just want her close again. “Sure.”
She steps up and starts to undo the buttons.
“I meant to thank you for keeping what happened to yourself,” I say.
She glances up at me, a coy look in her eyes, as she continues undoing the buttons. “How do you know I didn’t tell anyone?”
“Because I haven’t read about it today.”
“Well, I wasn’t exactly about to broadcast that I nailed Vaughn West in the balls.”
“You nailed me, huh?” I grin, and she blushes.
I like making her blush.
“You know what I mean,” she chastises gently.
“Yeah, well, I appreciate you not saying anything. You’d be surprised by what people are willing to tell to earn a fast buck. You could have made yourself ten grand with that story.”
“Ten grand? Shit, is it too late to change my mind?” She gives me a teasing grin. Then, her expression changes. “It sucks that you can’t trust people though.”
“Yeah, but I think that’s the same for most. I trust my family, Alex, and Jack, who’s my manager. And…right now, I trust you.”
Her eyes soften on me.
I want to kiss her so fucking bad in this moment. I can’t remember wanting to kiss a woman more.
“Well, just not with sharp instruments,” I add to pull us out of this moment.
“I didn’t stab you just now, did I?”
She pushes the shirt off my shoulders. I slip my arms out of it.
No, but I wish I could stick you with som
ething long and hard.
I watch her walk to the table and pick up a vest.
“No, but the night’s still young,” I tease her with her earlier words.
She walks back over to me and hands me the vest. I slip it on.
I like this. I like getting along with her about as much as I like arguing with her.
The sick part of me wants to piss her off again though. I have visions of having angry sex with her. I bet angry sex with Pins would blow my mind.
She fits up the vest and then the jacket, and I stand there like a good boy while she does.
“There. All done.” She walks around behind me and slips the jacket off my shoulders.
I find I’m disappointed that we’re finished.
I’m just about to offer her a drink when my cell starts to ring. I walk over to get it and see it’s Brandon calling.
The guy is an amazing director, but fuck, he’s a needy bastard. Every I has to be dotted and every T crossed. I like things to be thorough, but he’s a step above me.
We spent all afternoon running lines for tomorrow. And, honestly, I’m tired. I just want to sleep, so I can be ready for filming tomorrow.
And I want to have a drink with Pins.
And not fuck her.
Or maybe fuck her.
“Hey, Brandon,” I answer.
“Vaughn, have you got a few minutes? I just need to go over some stuff for tomorrow.”
I hold back a sigh. “Sure, just hang on a minute.” I cover the phone with my hand and turn to Pins.
She already has the stuff packed up and in her hands, ready to go.
Can’t say I’m not disappointed.
“Sorry, it’s Brandon. I have to take this.”
“It’s fine. We’re done anyway.”
She’s heading for the door. I follow her.
She stops by the door and turns to me. “Thanks for letting me come here to finish up.”
“No problem. And, hey, you got through it without maiming me.” I grin.
“Shocking, I know.” She flashes her gorgeous eyes at me.
“How are you getting to your hotel?”
“Alex said something about a car, but I can take a cab.”
“No, take my car. I’ll just call to sort it out.”
“It’s fine, honestly,” she starts.
Keep This Promise Page 93
