by Amy Valenti
“Mr. Connors?” One of the soundstage’s runners jogged up to me, looking breathless. She seemed to have taken her job title literally. “Thank God I found you. Marcia sent me to track you down—”
“Makeup, right?” I interrupted her, so she could get her breath back. “I’ll head back there now.”
“I’ll show you the way,” the runner said, obviously not wanting to take any chances that I might go astray again.
I followed her out to the makeup trailer where Marcia, a middle-aged makeup artist with a pronounced New York accent, stood with her hands on her hips. “Mr. Connors, if you can’t follow a simple itinerary, I suggest you get an assistant who can.”
“I’m sorry, Marcia. I lost track of time. It won’t happen again.” I sat down in the chair and held still, waiting for her to begin applying the layers of makeup that would make me paler and more vampire-like.
As Marcia got to work, grumbling under her breath, her words about an assistant sank in.
It might not work, but I had to try.
* * * *
Kat
The early morning shopping spree went smoothly, despite my frazzled nerves, but I found myself caught in crawling traffic on the way back. There’d been some sort of accident, though I wasn’t close enough to see what had happened yet.
I took advantage of the stalled cars in front of me to rest my arms on the steering wheel and use them as a pillow. Since leaving Callum’s presence, I’d been able to keep operating by way of focusing on the tasks in hand: get to the car, drive to the store, interact with the owner to get what I needed, get back into the car and drive. Now I had to wait for the traffic to go my way, I had nothing to distract me from how dismantled I’d felt in Callum’s embrace.
He’d been right—something in him did call to something in me. And more than anything, I wanted to know if it was possible that something good would come of giving in, of letting him have his way, of submitting. But I’d been down that road and it had only led to bruised ribs, wrenched joints and a torn heart. BDSM was nothing more than an excuse for violence, and I did not let violent men control me. Not anymore.
Then why did I feel this pull towards Callum Connors? I’d known I didn’t want to be around him when I’d heard he was guest-starring, but I’d never imagined he’d have this effect on me. Was I sick in the head? Had what had happened ten years ago broken me?
A car horn blared behind me, and my head shot up. There were a good few feet of space in front of me now. I hurriedly put the vehicle back into gear and closed the distance, pushing my whirling thoughts to the back of my mind. “Okay, concentrate,” I muttered aloud. “Get the beanbag in there. Take the pictures. File the paperwork. Go home.”
That was a good plan. A sensible plan. A foolproof plan. Right?
* * * *
I got as far as filing the paperwork before the director of the project, Darren Birch, called my name.
“You’re Kat Armstrong, right? Could I have a word?”
You didn’t say no to the director, no matter what production you were working on. And the fact he knew my full name meant he’d asked someone else, or worse—looked in my employment records. “Yes, sir. What can I do for you?”
He beckoned for me to follow him and left the workshop. Cursing under my breath, I hurried after him, hoping like hell we weren’t heading where I suspected we were. Once I caught up with his long strides, he finally deigned to tell me what was going on.
“I hear you’re at a loose end for the next couple of weeks.”
That wasn’t how I would have put it. It wasn’t like I was planning to mooch around at home doing nothing. At least, not after the first few days. I had plans with friends, was tentatively planning a trip to the beach for my second week off… But Darren didn’t care about that.
“I took some vacation time, yes, sir. I’m here this morning to help Cynthia out, but I was planning to go home in a few minutes. Why?”
“I have a proposition for you.”
Why did I get the feeling this was less a proposition than an order? Swallowing my trepidation, I waited politely.
“As you know, we have a high profile guest star in the pilot episodes of the show.”
“Callum Connors,” I filled in, my stomach sinking.
“Callum Connors,” he agreed. “I hear you met this morning.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Had someone seen our steamy interlude? Had Callum told someone about it, and the studio grapevine had delivered the knowledge to Darren’s ears? Where the hell was this going? “We did,” I agreed faintly.
“You seem to have made an impression, and we need to keep him happy. He just hinted to me that he might be willing to feature as a regular guest star or even a cast member if the filming goes off without a hitch and the network commissions Dark Hearts Broken for a full season. There are a few things he’s asked for during the period that he’s already signed a contract for that could help that happen. You’re one of them.”
I stopped dead in the middle of the hallway, and a guy carrying a heavy box had to swerve around me. Darren stopped with me, seeming unfazed.
“What exactly do you mean, sir?”
“Callum would need an assistant during filming to keep him on track. Just this morning he went AWOL when he should have been in makeup, because he wanted to look at the sets. And he said you’d be perfect as a stand-in while the pilot is filming. His usual assistant is busy.”
This didn’t even feel real. Any second now, I’d wake up. “But Sir, I’m not a PA. I’m in set design—”
“You’re practically Cynthia’s PA. You’ll do fine.”
“But my vacation—” I protested, already knowing it’d be futile.
“I talked it over with the executives and HR, and you can have three weeks when he’s done with you. That’s more than reasonable, wouldn’t you say?” There was an edge of steel in his voice that told me this was not a request. I was going to do this job, or I would be fired from the studio entirely. He didn’t have the power to do it, but his mention of HR was enough to convince me he’d cleared it with the people who could.
More than anything, I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, fuck Callum, and fuck my damn job. But I genuinely liked the studio and the usual crew I worked with. Not to mention that I needed the money. Two weeks of schlepping for Callum Connors—I could do that, right?
I haven’t been this hard for a woman in years, you know that?
I was about to be in deep, deep trouble, and my own lack of willpower would probably be the reason.
I sighed to cover my reaction to the provocative memory and started walking again when Darren did. “If there’s absolutely no way I can refuse, sir, I’ll do it. But I really am not happy about it.”
“Come on, now. It won’t be that bad. I’m not one of those divas you read about in the tabloids.” Callum fell into step beside us, the fabric of his button-down shirt brushing my bare arm. I moved a bit farther towards Darren, scowling.
“Like Lorna Doncaster?” the director said with a knowing smirk over my head.
“God, she was a nightmare to work with.” Callum shook his head. Clearly there was something they both knew about the model-turned-actress that I didn’t, but under the circumstances I wasn’t inclined to chat about it.
We arrived on the set of the main character’s bedroom, where a cameraman was overseeing some of the set guys pulling out one of the wall partitions. One of the versatile things about sets was that they could be pulled apart to make room for a camera to shoot from a particular angle. As long as none of the shots caught any of the off-set production crew or the director, that was.
“Ready in ten minutes, sir. Could I grab you for a second?”
The director gave me a false smile. “Thanks for doing this, Kat. I appreciate it. I’ll leave you two to figure out the best way of working together.”
Before I could say anything else, he went over to the cameraman who’d spoken, leaving me to s
tare at Callum. For the first time, I registered he was wearing makeup to make him look vampire pale, but not enough to be off-putting. I would have preferred to be put off.
He smiled. “So you’re my assistant for a couple of weeks. Thank you. I appreciate this.”
Keeping my face as pleasant as I could and my voice low, I hissed, “You manipulated him into this, didn’t you?”
“A little.” Callum shrugged.
“Just as long as you know an assistant is all I am.” I folded my arms protectively across my chest. “So what assistance do you need before this scene?”
A flash of heat crossed his expression for just long enough for me to notice it, but he let it fade away even as my pulse quickened. “Since we only have ten minutes, could you just bring me some water before shooting starts? Marcia wants to do a couple of final touch-ups to my makeup.”
“Of course.” I strove to keep my manner professional. “Be right back.”
While Marcia fussed around Callum, I went to the water cooler in the side room down the hall. For a second, I contemplated finding something that tasted terrible to mix into the plastic cup, but quelled the urge. Do not engage. Keep things professional. Don’t let him provoke you and don’t give him any reason to get into an argument with you.
Mini pep talk over, I ventured back onto the set and found Callum sitting on the end of the bed, studying the lines he’d need for his scene. He didn’t look up as I approached.
“Mr. Connors?” I said quietly, not wanting to distract him—for selfish reasons as well as professional ones.
He looked up and seemed genuinely glad to see the water cup I was carrying. “Thank you.”
I handed over the cup, careful not to let my skin brush his, aware that my hands had a slight tremor. Around him, I was a bundle of nerves, and I couldn’t stand it that he probably knew it.
“Will you need anything else?” I asked, putting boredom into my tone and expression so that he didn’t get any ideas.
There was something intimate about standing in front of a man who was sitting on the end of a bed. With one step forward, I’d be between his knees and he’d be able to cup my ass as he drew me into his lap, or pull down my shirt to take one of my nipples between his teeth and…
Callum held my gaze as he took a sip of water. When he lowered the cup, a droplet remained on his top lip and he licked it away casually before speaking. “That will be all for now, Kat. Stay nearby, would you? I’m not sure how many takes this scene will need.”
“Got it.”
Glad to be dismissed, I walked off the set, my attitude as calm and dignified as I could muster. I joined a couple of waiting runners against the wall, well out of the reach of the cameras, but my pulse hadn’t begun to slow down yet.
When I looked back over at Callum, he was gazing at his lines again, entirely unruffled and definitely not as captivated by me as I was by him. God, how was I going to survive the next two weeks?
Chapter Two
Callum
I hadn’t had this much of a problem remembering my lines since the time I’d had to speak Latin for a minor role as a possessed priest. That had been one of my first acting jobs—I liked to think I was more professional and focused these days.
Then again, Kat handing me something I’d asked her for had shaken my cool. I’d expected her to keep on the Little Miss Badass persona she’d been wearing all day, but she’d been serious, respectful and slightly nervous, the way I’d have expected a new but willing submissive to be. Granted, I would have preferred her to be kneeling rather than standing, but since this wasn’t my bedroom and we weren’t in play, I’d taken what I could get, thanking her for her service and taking a sip. What I’d really wanted to do was pull her on top of me and reward her with a screaming orgasm for following my order.
My cock stirred, and I slammed down on the thought before my desire could get out of control, repeating the lines on the page over and over in my mind. I didn’t dare look at Kat. If she was watching me with the same attentiveness as she had when she’d handed me the water, I was liable to scoop her up in my arms, carry her to my trailer and lock us both in there until we were both sated and exhausted.
Fuck. I needed to get it together.
“Okay, people, let’s do this!” Darren Birch, the director of this godawful book-to-TV-show adaptation, clapped his hands a few times to call us to attention.
With only a tenuous grasp on my lines, I hid the script pages under the bed and lay down on it, gazing towards the set’s window. It showed nothing but a green screen for the moment, but a view of the neighbourhood at night would be digitally added later.
The lighting guys did their thing, and the bedroom set went from being harshly lit by the overheads to softly illuminated by lamps. I took a deep breath and tried not to imagine Kat spread out on the bed, naked and reaching for me.
I was gonna have a seriously difficult time focusing if I didn’t get a hold on this. Frustrated with myself, I poured the feeling into the character I was meant to be portraying—Nathaniel Locke, adversary of the protagonist’s vampire love interest on the show, written to be a cocky bastard.
I folded my arms under my head and waited for the inevitable call to come.
“Action.”
The sound of a door opening was my cue to look from the window over at the doorway with a smug grin and small wave. “Hey, cutie.”
The lead actress, Jacie Smith, was a forgettable blonde, currently wearing a T-shirt and pyjama pants. We’d exchanged few words except for to do a quick, distracted rehearsal between her commitments yesterday, but she seemed to have snapped into the role of Lynette perfectly today. “Oh my God, what the hell are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you.” I raised myself off the pillows onto my elbows, making a show of looking her up and down. “Nice jammies.”
“Be quiet or you’ll wake the whole house!” Jacie stage-whispered, hurriedly shutting the door behind her. “And get off my damn bed!”
“Sure you don’t want to join me, Lynette?” I reached out a hand, keeping my expression smug. If I’d really wanted her to join me, I’d have acted a whole lot differently. But this character was scripted as a dick, so a dick I’d play.
“No! Get up right now!” Jacie tugged on my hand as if it were enough to pull me to my feet, and I played along, letting my balance waver as she dragged me off the bed and shoved me over to the window. “If Dale finds you in here he’ll kick your ass. How did you even get in?”
We ran through the rest of the scene without a hitch—apparently my memory was better than I’d thought, and the lines sprang to mind at the appropriate times—and before I knew it, it was time for me to open the window, slip out with a dire warning about her boyfriend’s trustworthiness, and head out of shot. Jacie played out the rest of the scene alone, though I couldn’t see her actions through the thin wall of the set, and I remained hidden until Darren called, “Cut!”
I emerged from my hiding place, and Jacie and I both looked expectantly at the director.
“Good job, guys. That’s pretty much how it went down in the original book. But now I’m hearing you do the lines, I’m wondering if we couldn’t throw this into love triangle territory. You know, like the whole Bill-Sookie-Eric thing in True Blood?”
It was phrased as a suggestion, but you didn’t turn down a director’s suggestions. Jacie and I exchanged a glance, and then simultaneously shrugged. “Sure,” she said.
This must be part of Darren’s ploy to hook me in as a series regular. If the show started with a few fans fixated on a relationship between my character and Jacie’s, even though the book specified otherwise, word would spread on social media and the show could become a real hit. Then again, pissing off the hardcore book fans seemed like a bad idea, since they were the main audience.
I didn’t care either way. I just wanted to be done with this and out of here, though I’d told Darren otherwise to get myself a certain submissive assistant.
&nbs
p; Part of me was glad to have an outlet for the sexual energy that had built in me since I’d first laid eyes on Kat. But I didn’t want to let any of that loose on anyone but her—or have her watch me unleash it on someone else. She wanted to think badly of me, had apparently disliked me even before I’d pulled her into this. She’d probably convince herself I was on a quest to screw any woman who moved by the time today was over.
Darren specified the changes he wanted, and I groaned inwardly. On any other day, in any other job, I’d have had no problem playing a seductive character, but with Kat in the picture I’d gladly have taken any other role.
“Okay, quiet on the set!”
As Jacie took up her position outside the door, I lay back down on the bed.
* * * *
Kat
Watching Callum work was amazing. Despite my misgivings about what he was—and no, I didn’t mean a creature of the night—I really had been an admirer of his work since his early days. Although I couldn’t see the close-ups of him I would have had if I’d been watching him on TV, I was mesmerised by how effortlessly he’d dropped into the role of a cocksure vampire. A couple of times, his borderline comedic delivery of a line made me grin. He’d taken a mediocre script and made it a great scene.
But when Darren called for another take, this time with sexual tension, my heart sank. I didn’t want to see how easily Callum could turn on the charm. It would only reinforce how much you could never trust an actor was showing you his true face.
For a few moments while Darren was speaking, I got the feeling Callum was irritated with the way things were going. But as he lay back on the bed for a second time and undid another button on his shirt, my mind went blank of anything but pure female appreciation.
His demeanour now was completely different to the way it had been before. Edgy sensuality poured off him as the scene began and Jacie Smith entered the room. His smile was wolfish. “Hey, cutie.”
Jacie probably didn’t even have to act, if she was as much a slave to his charms as I had been earlier. She kept her frantic air from the first take, but added a not-quite-subtle once-over of the gorgeous man sprawled out on the bed. “Oh my God, what the hell are you doing here?”
