“Can you get a fucking move on, Carys?” Shaun snapped at his beautiful co-star. Her mic kept playing up and the sound assistant struggled to fix it. “It’s not a hard scene.”
My jaw dropped open. Carys’s character was supposed to have found her mother’s mangled body. She needed to be highly emotional, but every time she started crying, he’d roll his eyes and shout, “Again.” It might not have been a hard scene, but the person acting as her brother was an utter dickhead. I’d struggle too.
They hurried on, but that didn’t appease Shaun. He really had a bee in his bonnet today. If even one member of the cast missed their cue, he muttered beneath his breath, causing the whole thing to reset. Eventually, muttering became too much for him and he resorted to growling.
Who the hell actually growls at people? TV stars, apparently.
Safe to say, the entire thing put the crew on edge, but it didn’t faze them. Production rolled forward despite the tense atmosphere.
I took to periodically feeding Shaun, figuring it was a regular low blood sugar thing and he was tired. Every time the director called for a break, I stepped in with a plate of cut-up fruit. Shaun scowled at it the first time, but eventually, he silently picked up a piece of apple and kept moving.
You’d think I’d enjoy the silence. Hell, I thought I’d enjoy it. All the better to appreciate his rock-hard body and gorgeous face. When he wasn’t speaking, he was rather nice to look at. He didn’t have a resting prat face, so I easily forgot the venom he could spit and found myself softening.
Of course, it never lasted.
He’d open his mouth and I’d scowl at myself for forgetting that beneath the pretty veneer lay a vile, bitter man. He shouldn’t have held the smallest iota of my attention. Yet my eyes always drifted back to him, caressing the ridges of his broad shoulders and his tapered waist with far too much interest.
Thankfully, or not, his bad attitude quickly escalated to shouting at the crew and his co-stars. One of the runners delivered him coffee and the glacial atmosphere went from frigid to deadly. The kid couldn’t have been older than twenty. He tried to hold a smile, but even from the sidelines, I could see the fragile edges slipping.
Shaun accepted the cup with a grunt, took a sip and spat it back out. The runner’s smile collapsed as his face turned ashen.
“Are you trying to poison me?” Shaun shouted, his voice cracking like a whip.
Silence swept across the sound stage. All eyes turned to watch Shaun, equal parts dread and fascination on their faces.
“The entire fucking production knows I’m lactose intolerant! So why the fuck are you giving me this?”
The runner flinched and backed away. Brian winced, but otherwise did nothing.
“I-I didn’t know,” the runner stammered.
“You didn’t know?” Shaun repeated, his voice deceptively calm. The runner nodded, his face frozen in terror. “If you’re too stupid to retain basic information, you’re not cut out for this business. Get off my fucking set!” Shaun roared, his voice echoing around the big space.
What the hell was wrong with these people? He was attacking a kid for an honest mistake and they were just standing back and letting it happen. He was out of line; he had to be stopped.
“Shaun!” I yelled.
“What!” he snapped back, his eyes flashing as they focused on me.
The runner staggered away, shaking and breathing hard. A red-haired woman about my age placed her hand on his shoulder and led him out of the warehouse.
“We all know you’re a hotshot. You don’t need to be a dick to the crew,” I shouted across the space, turning the tables on him. I power walked across the stage, anger fuelling my clipped and loud steps.
“If he wasn’t properly trained, he shouldn’t have been allowed near my coffee.”
“That’s fair, and I’m sure the production team is correcting it now, but you could have handled it better.”
Shaun stepped back as I jabbed my finger into his hard chest.
Damn! How much muscle is he carrying?
“He’s just a kid. He made a mistake, and he definitely didn’t deserve to be publicly belittled for it.”
Shaun ground his teeth. “He could have killed me.”
I snorted. “We both know that’s not true.”
Shaun stared at me, irritation shining from his hard eyes. He took a step towards me until our chests almost touched, and I had to crane my neck to meet his annoyingly attractive gaze. We were too close. I itched to wipe that smug smirk from his face.
“It would have set the production back.”
I shrugged. “I’d have found you some lactase, and you’d have gotten on with it.”
“It’s not that simple.”
I laughed. It wasn’t an amused sound. It was a sarcastic “give me a break” chuckle that I’d dredged up from the bottom of my patience barrel.
“It is that simple. You’ve been baring your teeth at people all day, but flying off the handle at an inexperienced kid… seriously, Shaun?”
Shaun crossed his arms and widened his stance. He glared at me, his eyes promising retribution.
“They all know you’re an arse, but they also know you’re hurting. They make allowances and give you space. You snap at Brian, but he’s too nice to tell you to fuck off. So, consider me their human shield. Leave the fucking crew alone, Shaun, or I swear you won’t have to worry about a young runner slipping milk into your coffee.”
As threats went, it was lame, but if he was really concerned about ruining his movie-star image by shitting himself in front of the crew, I’d happily help that anxiety along.
“You work for me,” Shaun said, invading my personal space until our faces almost met. His breath reeked like a distillery.
Drunk. He’s fucking drunk on set.
I was sure he’d been sober when he arrived. Where had he gotten it? A problem I’d deal with at another time.
“Only for six months,” I reminded him, “and I have a very clear mandate for that time. You can’t fire me, so show me your worst! But if you so much as scowl at another runner, I promise you’ll wish you’d never met Sherry. I will make your life a living hell.”
We glared at each other, neither of us willing to break eye contact or back down.
If I were a less intelligent woman, I’d think that light in his eyes was appreciation. I knew better.
Chapter Four
The next morning followed the same routine, minus the early-morning phone call from Shaun moaning about his call time again. Exhaustion had gotten the better of me, and convincing myself to walk the extra hundred feet to Craft Services was just not happening.
I’d thought that being the star of the show would mean he’d get a fancy trailer, but beneath the leather and drapery, it was still just a caravan. Call it a honey wagon if you want – the crew did. I still couldn’t shake the image of the caravans we’d stayed in as kids.
It was divided into three spaces. In the front, a leather-upholstered sofa took up one wall and a solid oak dining table sat opposite. In the middle and opposite the door was an open-plan, fully functioning kitchen with a breakfast bar I’d never seen Shaun use (apart from the coffeemaker). A door led off the kitchen and into a double bedroom and en suite.
I helped myself to the coffee on the bar. One sip of his trailer stash sealed the deal. This was going to be how I started every morning from now on. Yet addictive taste or not, all the coffee in the world couldn’t keep me lively.
I was resting my head on his table when I heard the door open. Without lifting my head, I pushed the mocha towards him. It didn’t go flying off the table. That took skill.
He didn’t comment on my coffee delivery. Instead, something crashed on the table and I jolted upright. A white box sat on the surface inches from where my head had been. I glared at the smirk curving his lips.
“I didn’t peg you as the violent type,” I said.
He scowled before turning his back on me. “I’m goin
g to head over to make-up.”
“Okay. Give me a sec and I’ll walk over with you.” I snatched the box off the table – it was a shiny new tablet; no way was I leaving it behind – and shoved my chair back.
“I’m good.” The words were bit out.
I eyed his rigid back. “Are you definitely going to make-up?”
He huffed and barrelled out the door. It slammed back against the trailer, shaking the ground beneath my feet.
Maybe he would go straight to make-up. Maybe it would all be fine. I still wasn’t naïve enough to believe it.
I raced after him, the box with my new tablet tucked safely under my arm.
“I said I was good,” he muttered when I caught up to him.
Today I’d sensibly chosen to wear trainers. All the better to run after angry actors. My ankles definitely thanked me for the lack of sprain.
“I heard you.” I slowed from an outright run to a jog to keep up with his long strides.
“And you didn’t believe me.”
“Why the hell should I?”
“I’m your boss?”
“Ah, yes. Lauding that over me isn’t going to win you anything in this situation. I didn’t understand why Sherry was so insistent on her chain of command when I took the job.” I peeked at him from the corner of my eye. He wore a face like thunder. “Didn’t take you long to clear it up. Thanks for that.”
Shaun stiffened. “I can still fire you.”
I shrugged. “Not without a fight, I’d wager. Face it. You’re stuck with me. I know it, you know it, the tablet knows it.”
“You make a habit of anthropomorphising objects?” He studied me like I was a very weird bug following him around.
“Hardly. I meant you giving me a tablet means you know you’re not getting rid of me.”
He humphed.
“Speaking of the tablet, thank—”
“Don’t thank me.”
“But—”
“Jesus, Mona. It’s just a work tool!” He stopped outside the make-up trailer. His smirk returned as I gripped my side, trying to put pressure on the stitch my mad dash after him had created. “Don’t make it into something it’s not.”
“I’m not!”
His brow quirked, and I took a firm grip on my squeaky voice.
“I’m not,” I repeated, my tone more even and serious. “I was raised right. It’s rude not to thank someone when they give you something or help you.”
His expression shut down. He stared at me with ice in his gaze. They hadn’t exactly been friendly before.
What the hell had I done now?
“Then don’t do me any favours ’cause you won’t be hearing those words from me.” Shaun took the metal steps into the make-up trailer two at a time, our conversation apparently finished.
“Well, I’m still grate—” The door slammed shut before I could get the words out.
We hadn’t exactly been getting on, but that was a definite backslide. I sat on the bottom step, frowning at the shiny white box and its glossy image of a tablet. Maybe he isn’t all that bad.
Instead of worrying about the changeable idiot, I powered up the tablet and focused on crosschecking my notes from a meeting with the producers. It had been preloaded with most of Shaun’s appointments. I could immediately see that a good chunk of them were missing, and set to work programming it while make-up transformed him.
The door creaked open fifteen minutes later. A sigh sounded behind me.
“You could have gone back to the trailer.”
I forced myself to stand. My butt was numb and I could barely feel my fingers. It might have been June, but the mornings could still be pretty chilly.
“I’m alright here,” I said, my voice light and a sunny smile plastered across my face.
Shaun rolled his eyes. The man really didn’t like people being happy. Duly noted, I amped up the cheer while I checked the time on my tablet.
“We should get you to wardrobe.”
Thankfully, their trailer was only a couple doors down because if I had to shuffle Shaun across the site, we would definitely be late to set.
I skipped off down the wide path, nodding my head as people shouted good morning. Their smiles dried up as they spotted Shaun trailing after me, but I refused to let it dent my charade.
“Are you going to do that all day?” Shaun grumbled as we stopped outside the wardrobe trailer.
“What? Be happy?”
“No.” He frowned, crossing his arms. “Yes. It’s annoying.”
“Then yes.”
“Why?”
“Because it annoys you.” I grinned wider, enjoying the flash of disbelief I could read in his eyes.
“I just got home, Shaun.”
The “what the hell do you want now” remained unspoken. I was still on a cheery kick. He’d stomped off growling so many times throughout the day that it had become a bit of a game, one I’d enjoyed far too much.
“I forgot my boxing gloves at the trailer. I need you to bring them to me.”
I sighed. My bed was so close. It was only 5PM, but I’d been up since 2AM. Unlike my robot of a boss, some of us needed a full eight hours of sleep to function.
“Can’t it wait until tomorrow? We’ll be back in less than eleven hours.”
“No. I need them now,” he barked before the line went dead.
Grumbling, I picked up my handbag from where I’d unceremoniously dropped it on my bedroom floor. My phone pinged with a text. An address that was definitely not Shaun’s.
Shaun: Drop them off here.
I stared at the screen, narrowing my gaze. Where is he sending me?
“Bloody dickhead actors and their ridiculous unreasonable needs. I’m an idiot, Mona. Mona, I can’t remember where I left my shit. Be a dear, Mona, find this thing I put down two days ago. I don’t know what it was or where I had it last, but it’s important.”
I was still grumbling and swearing at Shaun when I pulled into the studio car park.
As I searched his spotless trailer, it occurred to me I hadn’t asked the most important question: why did he have boxing gloves in his trailer? No bag hung in the front space, and there definitely wasn’t one in his bedroom. The frame couldn’t have handled the weight, anyway. If he had a space set up on site, I’d have heard about it by now.
Well, somebody had better give me a heads up before they install one. I do not need to walk in on Shaun topless and sweaty. Oh my god. Where the hell did that thought come from?
Way to torture myself. I froze on my hands and knees in what made up the bedroom section of his trailer. Why did he need a bed anyway? It wasn’t like he slept. I’d seen his schedule. He couldn’t blame his alcohol consumption if he dropped dead. The man needed to slow down.
I found the gloves stashed at the bottom of his wardrobe with an assortment of sporting goods that boggled my mind. There was even a hockey stick buried in there!
With the gloves in hand, I locked up and got out of there before I lost my mind trying to make sense of Shaun’s actions. I needed to sleep tonight. Fixating on the things he chose to store in his trailer and why was not going to help achieve that. Besides, there was no earthly reason I should care!
The address turned out to belong to one of those stripped-back gyms plopped in the middle of industrial sites. In this case, the gym sat wedged between a tyre garage and a windows supplier. Metal bars crisscrossed the windows and a red steel door that could sustain a ram raid led inside. The car park was packed, but the sight didn’t sit right with me.
This wasn’t where A-list celebrities worked out, surely. It was too bare and purpose-focused. No one would hand him fancy water bottles or fluff his towels. Did they do that? I’d never set foot in one of those super-expensive gyms, so I didn’t know.
The outside matched the inside – bare concrete floors, mats scattered about with patches duct-taped and giant weight machines lining the walls. A huge boxing ring took up the bulk of the room.
I wrinkl
ed my nose at the stench of stale sweat. While scanning the space for Shaun’s familiar presence, I resisted the urge to plug my nose.
Someone flew into the ropes surrounding the boxing ring. He bounced back and continued sparring his partner at the other end.
I narrowed my eyes at the figure. He was topless and the way he moved fascinated me. He was graceful, dodging almost all of his sparring partner’s blows. The muscles in his back danced in a mesmerising rhythm, making the tree of life on his upper back pulse and flutter. Sweat made his tanned skin gleam, and I lost myself for a moment, tracing every dip.
Was it getting hot in here, or was I just losing my mind over a ripped stranger?
Then I paused. He was the right height and build. Tufts of familiar brown hair stuck out around his head guard. But it couldn’t be Shaun. This guy had gloves. Surely Shaun wouldn’t have sent me back to the studio if it wasn’t, in fact, an emergency.
I winced as a punch caught him beneath the chin and he barrelled backwards into the ropes. They caught him, holding him up until his feverish green gaze clashed with mine.
Oh my god.
I was lusting after my boss.
Mortification raced through me, and my face heated.
Shaun straightened, his eyes never leaving mine. “Let’s take five,” he said, his voice perfectly normal and not intrigued. Nope, that was all in my imagination.
Before he could climb over the ropes and join me on the ground, I shook the gloves at him. I averted my eyes and placed them on the boxing ring floor.
Without a word, I rushed towards the exit, my eyes fixed on the doors and the cool air waiting for me outside. Distantly, I heard Shaun swear and the muffled slap of his feet hitting the mats surrounding the ring.
“Mona, wait up,” he called, catching up to me far too quickly.
I couldn’t look at him yet. My skin was still overheated, and my body ached in all the right places. He’d take one look at my face and see it all.
He grasped my arm, spinning me around.
Between Takes Page 3
