Control Games (Game for Cookies Book 2)

by Allyson Lindt

  “Wait. Back up. You turned off your phone for an entire night, and didn’t check it in a panic first thing when you woke up. Are you feeling all right?”

  Fan-fucking-tastic. The truth lingered on the tip of Julie’s tongue, but she couldn’t force out the words. “I needed some quiet last night. My head’s been twisted on so topsy-turvy, I decided to get a hotel room and remove myself from everything for a few hours.” That was pretty close to the truth. Especially since, after their argument about three-person relationships, Julie didn’t feel right, saying she’d screwed the boss’s boyfriend last night.

  Andi studied her a moment longer, then pushed back from the table. “I get that. Sometimes everyone needs to get away. Meet you in the bakery?”

  “Yeah. Give me a little while, to shower, and I’ll be down as quickly as I can.”

  Julie tried to strike a balance between hurrying through her morning routine and keeping in mind she’d be on camera today. As the minutes ticked by, reality seeped in, assaulting her with a list of things that could go wrong today. At the top was seeing Dante and Christopher again. They shouldn’t be her priority, but knowing that didn’t stop her from being concerned about how the three of them were supposed to interact.

  When she got back downstairs, the floor was swarming with people. Cameras. Catering. Lights. Cables. She clenched her hand until her nails dug into her palm at the array of footprints marring the tile.

  “I wondered when you’d emerge from your tower room.” Dante’s teasing voice startled her, and she whirled to see him standing near the counter they’d use for most of their shooting.

  That wasn’t so bad. It was a little unnerving to hear him this friendly, but she’d take it. “It’s my big debut; I had to look perfect.”

  “You did a marvelous job.” He nodded toward the conference room. “Makeup is in there. They’ll make sure nothing washes out under the lights.”

  It took a constant mantra of let the experts do their jobs, but she made it through the remaining prep. Several hours later, she was deep into filming with Dante. The scripted banter flowed easily. The read-throughs had made a difference.

  “So why cookies?” Dante asked.

  Her mind tripped over the question, both because it was improvised and because it mimicked Christopher’s from last night. She gazed back, unflinching. “It all started with WoW.”

  “As in nifty, spiffy, keen?” Amusement danced in his eyes.

  She didn’t know what he was up to, but it seemed like he was having fun. She could too. “As in World of Warcraft.”

  The off-script conversation followed a shorter version of the one she’d had with Christopher. As they wrapped it up, the director yelled, “Cut. Love it. We should be able to keep it in.”

  Julie made her way to other side of the cameras and lights, grateful to be out from under the heat.

  Andi was waiting, wearing a huge grin. “That was brilliant. Who knew? All the two of you needed in order to get along was a camera trained on you.”

  “Yeah. Just a camera.” Julie squelched her discomfort about withholding more information.

  “Andrea. You’re up,” the assistant director called.

  Andi rolled her eyes. She hated her full name, but she’d given up trying to correct the staff.

  Julie squeezed her arm. “You’ll kick ass. I’ll talk to you when you’re done.”

  Most of Andi’s segment would be solo. They’d film her talking to the camera, and overlap some of her talking with footage of her decorating cookies. She would paint one of their more popular designs—a goblin bouquet with a knight in the middle. This was a special order. It came with both a male and female knight, and would be used as part of a marriage proposal. They’d even gotten permission to film the proposal itself.

  Julie took a spot against the wall, out of the flow of traffic, to watch the mayhem. The longer she observed, the more she itched to protest the way her kitchen was being treated. She was clenching her jaw to keep it shut, when she felt a hand on her arm.

  “It’s killing you. Isn’t it?” Christopher planted himself in the empty spot next to her, shoulder pressed against hers.

  “Nope. I’m fine.”

  “You’re also lying.” Dante startled her. He took the place on her other side.

  She reminded herself he wasn’t being mean. Nothing in his tone implied anything but friendliness. It was easier to focus on them instead of the bedlam when she was pressed between them, heat seeping into her skin. “You’d be going insane too, if this was your workspace.”

  “I used to,” Dante said. “But my kitchen looks like this all the time.”

  She should have known he wouldn’t understand. “Because it’s in the middle of a TV studio.”

  “All right. I give. I got used to some of it, but not all. I distract myself when it gets too bad.”

  Julie could do distraction. Especially when she let herself fall into the memories of last night. She wouldn’t mind recreating that now, to take her mind of things. The warmth of Dante’s arm pointed out she might enjoy it more if he joined in. Not here, of course. Though this was as good a place as any for the fantasy. “Distract yourself, how? Are you a picture-the-audience-naked kind of guy?”

  “Not the audience.” Dante turned his head toward her and traveled his gaze over her body.

  She tried to summon irritation, but instead wondered if he’d looked at her that way in the hotel room. Excitement danced over her skin. “I’m not sure if asking for details is a smart idea. I have a feeling those will divert my attention.”

  “That’s the point.” Christopher moved his palm to the small of her back. Heat seared her through fabric. The way the two of them framed her blocked his hand from anyone else’s view.

  Her pulse spiked when he moved her shirt up to make contact with bare back. She swallowed past her suddenly dry throat. “I thought the point was a shift in control.”

  “Diversion is one way to do that.” Christopher’s expression gave nothing away. Someone watching from a distance would think he was discussing new locations for security cameras.

  Oh God. Cameras. Julie’s imagination skipped off in a new direction. He could see her almost anywhere on the main floor with those things. At least she wasn’t focused on the wreck of filming in the bakery anymore. “In addition to being terrified but safe?”

  “Some tricks can only be done when you’re not expecting them.” Dante kicked away from the wall, to stand in front of Julie and Christopher. The way Dante studied her—open curiosity laced with lust—sent sparks racing over her skin. “Fear frequently comes from the unknown.”

  She had to agree with that. Right now, for instance, she was terrified, intrigued, and definitely curious about how much they could get away with while anyone from the TV crew could walk in.

  “I wouldn’t try anything here, if you’re worried about that.” Christopher dipped his head to hers, his breath caressing her cheek and his words seeming to draw directly from her head. “Not with these people around. Though, in a way, it’s tempting. I can do a lot, gliding my fingers under your clothes. Along your bare spine. Your stomach. Lower.”

  She bit the inside of her cheek, as her mind filled in the sensory details of his description. The brush of his hand. The rush of adrenaline that they might be seen. The pulse between her thighs at the idea that someone might enjoy watching quietly, rather than turn them in. “Like what? You’re being vague.”

  Dante held her gaze with a steady intensity that played with Christopher’s words and touch. “You’re all about the details, aren’t you?” Dante said. “While you’re in that apron, he only has to prompt you a step or two to the right, and you’ll be in front of him. From there, it’s an easy trip to snake his arm around your waist, then dip his hand past the waistband of your jeans and dance his fingers over your pussy.”

  “Those are some pretty good details.” Need drew tattooed traces along her hip and made her damp, despite the fact Christopher never moved
his hand from her back.

  A dull explosion, like the thump of a mortar, shattered the bubble around Julie and the men, and her heart leaped into her throat. The flash of light that accompanied the noise came from the other side of the cameras, and a blink later Andi let out a scream that pierced Julie to her core.

  Julie shoved past Dante and sprinted toward the noise. Chaos bloomed around Andi, and Julie pushed enough people aside to figure out what had happened.

  There was blood on the side of Andi’s face, bright red welts along her arm, and the scorched husk of an airbrush and compressor, covered in fire-extinguisher foam.

  Every voice in the room faded into the background. Julie grabbed her phone and dialed 911, watching Andi the whole time, asking if she was all right, and praying that Andi’s weak assurances weren’t a sign of worse damage than Julie saw on the surface.

  “It’ll be all right.” Julie didn’t know if she was talking to Andi or herself. “The ambulance will be here soon. You’ll be fine.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Concern washed through Christopher in a torrent of waves. He managed to put together the pieces of what happened—the compressor on Andi’s airbrush exploded. It was small and low pressure, so the damage didn’t go far, but the shrapnel sent a series of lacerations across her face. The worst damage, as far as the EMTs could tell, was from the air hose catching fire. Something that shouldn’t have happened.

  Andi was in the ambulance, on her way to the hospital. One of the emergency techs assured her she’d be fine, but Christopher could see her burns were more serious than they said. The EMTs didn’t let Julie or anyone else ride along.

  Julie was on the phone with Isaiah. “Northwestern Memorial. She’s all right.” Her voice leaked stress. “I’m on my way. I’ll meet you there.” She disconnected, and her arm dropped limply to her side. Christopher was surprised her phone didn’t clatter to the floor.

  He grasped her hand and pried the device from it. “Let’s go.”

  “Go...?” She looked at him blankly.

  “I sent everyone home,” Dante said. “We’re taking you to the hospital.”

  His sharp tone seemed to snap something in Julie’s head, and she scowled. “I hate to play the five-year-old card, but you’re not the boss of me. I can drive myself.”

  Christopher doubted that was a safe idea. “I’m sure you can. But we’re going anyway, to make sure she’s all right.”

  “To protect your investment.” She glared at Dante. When he frowned, her expression slipped. “Sorry. Stress.”

  “I figured.” Dante nodded toward the exit. “Christopher will drive. I’ll follow when the place is empty. Lock things up here.”

  A rainbow of emotions splashed across Julie’s face. “All right. Thank you.”

  She sat in the passenger seat, gaze fixed straight ahead, the entire drive. Christopher was more grateful than normal that he knew the city. Having to interact with a digital voice barking out directions would have pushed them both over the edge.

  They reached the hospital, and Julie was out of the car the second it rolled to a stop. Christopher shut off the engine and sprinted to catch up with her, falling into step beside her as she stepped through the entrance.

  Kane and Isaiah were already in the emergency waiting room. Kane’s hand shook when he raked his fingers through his hair, which he did every few seconds. Isaiah strode toward Julie. His face was pinched with concern. “They won’t give us any information, because we’re not relatives. All they’ll say is the doctor will come out when he’s got something to share.”

  Christopher recognized the concern and hurt in both men’s eyes. He could only imagine what kind of state he’d be in if Dante were hospitalized. Maybe Andi was making this three-person thing work.

  “I told you everything I know.” Julie clenched her fist by her side. “Let me see what I can find out. I’ll be right back.” She made her way to the check-in desk, and whatever she said to the woman on shift involved a lot of animated gestures and a few shouted words on Julie’s part. When she returned to the group, red splotched her face, which was twisted with irritation.

  Christopher prompted her to sit. An impulse nudged him to pull her into his lap and offer a more personal form of comfort, but that was the tension of the moment. It wouldn’t serve either of them in the long run.

  Her phone buzzed, jolting through her with its abruptness. She checked the message and saw it was from Luke.

  There are internet rumors something happened at your place. Are you all right?

  Dante would throw a fit if he found out the bakery was getting bad press. Julie didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with answering Luke. She swiped his message away, and turned her attention back to waiting, and worrying about Andi.

  The minutes ticked into half an hour, then an hour, then longer. Dante arrived and took the seat next to Christopher. “Shop is locked up,” he muttered loud enough for Julie to hear.

  “Thanks.” She flashed him an expression that was half-smile, half-grimace.

  “I don’t know that I’ve ever had a boss who would show up at a hospital for me,” Kane said.

  The tension in the room thickened. Christopher didn’t know the men well. Hell, he barely knew Andi, beyond that she was easy to work with and insanely talented. However, by what Christopher had seen of the trio, Kane was protective of Andi to a fault. The curiosity that lingered with him since they arrived asked what it would be like to have that with two people instead of one.

  “He’s not our boss.” Julie’s words were clipped.

  Kane rolled his eyes. “Investor. Whatever. It’s just an observation.”

  Isaiah rested a hand on Kane’s arm, and Kane snapped his mouth shut with a frown. Julie growled, but it was quiet enough it probably didn’t leave the immediate circle around her.

  Was this because of the conversation Andi and Kane walked in on the other day? Wondering that was easier than thinking about Kane’s question. Why were Christopher and Dante here? Julie could have taken a cab. Christopher could have let her drive or dropped her and her car off and left with Dante. But he couldn’t fathom leaving her in this state.

  A man in scrubs pushed through the doors that barred the waiting room from the emergency rooms. “Julie?”

  “That’s me.” She was on her feet like a shot.

  The doctor nodded toward a door. “If you want to step in here for a moment, so we may have some privacy, I can give you an update on Andrea.”

  “Yes. Definitely.” Julie followed him into the side room.

  Despite the concern etched on Kane’s and Isaiah’s faces, Andi had given the staff Julie’s name to receive updates. Christopher felt bad for the other men. He’d be climbing the walls, waiting for news about Dante. How much worse would it be to have a third person to worry about?

  Worse or better? Worry about or lean on?

  He shook the thoughts aside. If things lasted between Andi, Kane, and Isaiah, it was as much luck as love. It took most people a lifetime to find one person. And that was if it happened at all.

  Julie emerged with the doctor, and the lines on her forehead weren’t etched as deep as before. She thanked him again, then wandered back to the group. Christopher reached for her hand and squeezed before he realized what he was doing. Her grateful smile said she didn’t mind.

  “Andi is fine.” Relief mingled with the rough stress in her voice. “She has some lacerations on her head, but only one needed a stitch. The burns on her arm are more serious, but they’ll heal. She can’t use her hand for a few weeks.”

  Which was bad news for the rest of filming and the grand opening, but fantastic news overall. Christopher was grateful Dante kept his mouth shut, then immediately felt guilt for assuming he’d do anything else.

  Julie didn’t sit again. This became her excuse to fidget until Andi was rolled out in a wheelchair.

  Kane was by Andi’s side in an instant, reaching for her.

  “I tried to tell them
I can walk fine.” Andi looked relaxed enough she could share a little of the feeling around and still be happy.

  The nurse wheeling her shook her head. “You’ve got some good drugs pumping through you. You can step from the curb into a car, which I assume one of these wonderful people is about to go fetch for you.”

  “On it.” Isaiah kissed Andi on the cheek and strode for the exit.

  The rest of the group moved more slowly, in an odd kind of circle around Andi. The moment felt too intimate for Christopher to be a part of. What were he and Dante doing here?

  “I’m really sorry,” Andi said to Julie. “We’re going to miss so many deadlines.” She held up her bandaged hand. “I’m completely useless.”

  “You’re not useless because you can’t paint right now.” The earlier tension was gone from Julie’s reply, replaced with compassion. “It’s not your fault, and it’s not an issue. We have a contingency plan.”

  “Except the drugs aren’t so good that I’ve forgotten it’s not ready to go yet.”

  Christopher knew what they were talking about. Julie and Andi recognized this wasn’t the kind of business that could run long term with just the two of them. One of their goals was to streamline recipes and character design, so other people could take on day-to-day work and the women would be free to create new concepts and work on special projects.

  “We’ll figure it out after you’ve had some rest.” Whatever was working a million-miles-an-hour for solutions in Julie’s head was absent from her voice.

  Isaiah pulled up to the curb and left the engine running, while he and Kane fussed over Andi and made sure she was comfortable in the front passenger seat. Isaiah turned to Julie, leaving the door open. “Neither of you ladies is going back to that apartment. Not with vandalism and suspicious explosions.”

  Instinct and experience told Christopher the other men would want the evening to hover over Andi and make sure she was all right, even if they’d also extended Julie an invitation. “We have a spare room,” Christopher offered.