by Ember Casey
I park and hurry across the parking lot, making sure to look for cars. It’s not until I’m right at the building that I notice the three police cruisers parked at the curb. Did something happen? None of their lights are flashing, but half a dozen officers linger nearby, chatting with each other as they watch people go in and out of the building. I half expect them to say something to me as I pass them, but they simply watch me walk by without a word.
The lobby inside isn’t as bustling as it was on Friday, but there’s still enough activity to encourage me to continue on. I glance around for someone I recognize as I head toward the courtyard at the back.
Unfortunately, the first person I recognize is probably the last person I want to bother for help. Karen looks as busy as she always does, her lips pursed as she scrolls through something on the tablet in her hands. As usual, she’s wearing an earpiece, but she doesn’t appear to be talking to anyone at the moment.
Carefully, I approach her. She doesn’t look up until I’m only a couple of feet away.
“What are you doing here?” she demands. “We’re still working on the new filming schedule. Go home and wait for a call.”
“I’m not here for filming,” I tell her. “Is Orlando around, by any chance?”
“He’s extremely busy,” she says with a shake of her head. “I don’t know if you saw the cops outside, but we’ve had a bit of an incident. Ford Grand has been fired and will probably be charged with assault. In the meantime, there are a thousand things to do so we can get back on schedule as soon as possible.”
I hesitate. Her answer tells me several things—first, that Orlando ended up calling the police about Ford anyway, even after I refused. Second, that he hasn’t gone around telling everyone it was me who was attacked. Gratitude and relief fill me, and after the rollercoaster ride of these last few days, I don’t even know how to handle this new information.
“I really need to talk to him,” I tell her. “It won’t take long, I promise.”
She looks up from her tablet again, frowning. “Anything you need, you can ask me. That’s what I’m here for.”
“It’s…personal,” I tell her.
The sudden, sharp look she gives me makes me realize how that sounds, but it’s too late to take it back now, even if my cheeks are suddenly very warm.
“It’ll only take a minute,” I tell her. “And if he’s in the middle of something, I can wait.”
She doesn’t look any closer to helping me. Instead, she’s starting to look suspicious.
“I don’t know what you think is going on between the two of you,” she says finally, “but trust me, you’re misinterpreting things. Orlando has a personal policy to keep things entirely professional on his films. That means no personal entanglements of any sort, especially not with any aspiring actresses.” She gives me a very pointed look.
I want to argue that I’m not an aspiring actress, but I don’t feel like having that discussion again, even if I thought Karen would believe me.
“Thanks anyway,” I tell her as I back away. “Sorry to bother you.”
I expect her to watch me like a hawk as I retreat, to make sure I’m not off to cause trouble, but her eyes drop almost immediately to her tablet again. I should have guessed that her responsibilities would come first. I’m a little embarrassed that my feelings for Orlando are so transparent, though.
I look out through the large, plate glass windows overlooking the courtyard. I see a lot of crew members running around, but no one I recognize. And no Orlando.
I’m just about to head outside and get a closer look when someone nearly runs into me.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say, stepping out of the way of a tense young man. He has the look of an assistant if I’ve ever seen one—a scattered, determined, but somewhat terrified expression. He rushes on without a word to me, as if fleeing from the room he just left.
Curious, I find myself glancing into the room. My luck must be holding, because inside is the exact man I came here to see. Orlando is standing bent over a conference table, running a hand through his hair. The table is covered with stacks of paper, plus two laptops, a tablet, and a couple cases of equipment I don’t recognize. I recognize the look in his eyes, though—he’s in full director mode.
For a moment I just stand and observe him, watching the genius at his work. Even though he’s only flipping through papers and occasionally scrolling through something on the laptop, I can see the wheels turning in his mind, like he’s working through some giant puzzle. Without thinking, I find myself moving closer to the door, drawn to him, but it’s not until I’m practically in the doorway that he looks up and our eyes meet.
Up until now, I haven’t really thought about what I should say to him or what I should ask. But it doesn’t really matter, because as I look into his eyes, everything else seems to fall right out of my head. All that’s left is the emotion of the last few days. Because of him, I’m safe from Ford. Because of him, my parents don’t have to worry anymore. Because of him, my life is looking brighter than it has in a long, long time.
I move without thinking, crossing the room to him as if pulled by some unseen force. He barely has time to straighten fully before I launch myself at him and throw my arms around his neck, squeezing tight. I kiss him on one cheek, then the other, then the first cheek again. I want to cover his face in kisses, but I pull back before I let myself do anything too inappropriate.
“Thank you,” I tell him. “You have no idea what this means to us.” I know I’m supposed to be angry, or at least slightly offended—my family never asked for his charity, and he did it without even a word to me—but I can’t seem to muster even the tiniest bit of outrage. In fact, I’m pretty sure I feel tears welling up in my eyes, as embarrassing as that is.
Orlando hasn’t moved. He’s so warm, so solid, and for a moment I’m overwhelmed by that delicious, manly scent of him. My heart is beating so fast that I wouldn’t be surprised if he can feel it where our chests are pressed together. I want to hold onto him forever, to forget my despair of the last few days and weeks and months and lose myself in the comfort of his arms. Just for a little while.
It’s not until I feel his hand brush against my lower back that I realize how hard I’m clinging to him.
I jerk back, nearly tripping over myself as I fall away from him. Karen’s words jump back into my head, and my face flames as I think about how all this must look.
“I…I just wanted to say thank you,” I tell him awkwardly, looking everywhere but his face. God, the entire upper half of my body feels flushed now. “I didn’t mean to… I mean, I know I shouldn’t have…” I straighten and clear my throat. “I apologize. That was very unprofessional of me.” Those tears have started to leak out of the corners of my eyes, and I quickly swipe at them with the back of my wrist.
When I lower my hand and finally muster the courage to look up at him, I find Orlando staring at me with the oddest look on his face. I can only imagine how confused he is right now.
“Just…pretend I was never here,” I say, backing toward the door.
Orlando suddenly moves. In two strides he’s next to me again, catching me by the arm, even as my next apology is spilling from my lips. He doesn’t give me the chance to finish. One minute I’m still trying to back away, the next he’s pulling me toward him, and before I can even catch my breath, his mouth comes down on mine.
And the world explodes around me.
The moment our lips meet, everything comes undone inside me. The scattered thoughts in my brain disappear, the tangle of emotions that led me into this room crest like a giant wave, throwing me wherever they will. My body is alive and tingling, my skin shivering with sensations I didn’t know I could feel. Suddenly everything makes perfect sense, and no sense at all. He tastes even better than he smells. There are a hundred points of contact between our bodies, and a hundred bolts of pleasure ripple through me, turning me into a trembling mess.
I’m so lost in those feelings
that it’s a shock when he abruptly pulls away from me. One moment I’m melting against his chest, and the next I’m alone, struggling to keep myself upright on unsteady legs. Orlando is a few feet away, looking almost dazed.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he says, his voice low.
I take a deep, shuddery breath, trying to stop the room from spinning. “I know you have a policy.”
“That’s right,” he says, nodding as if affirming that to himself. “I do.” His penetrating eyes meet mine again. “And I don’t make a habit of putting women in uncomfortable positions.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t take advantage of them,” he says as if this were already obvious. “Especially when they feel like they might be in my debt for some reason or another.”
“You think…” My face feels even hotter than before, though I have no idea how that’s possible. “You think I only kissed you back because I’m in your debt?”
“I don’t assume anything. But—”
He’s cut off by my laugh. “You’re either letting me down easy or you vastly underestimate your effect on women,” I say. “I would have let you kiss me the moment I first saw you in that bathroom. All it would take is a word and you could have me bent over that table with my skirt up around my hips.”
He blinks at my brazenness. I’m just as shocked by my words, but so much has happened in the last week that perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised to lose all control of my tongue. I’m not the same girl I was a week ago.
“You don’t mean that,” he says after a moment. But his eyes are bright and hungry, and my heart flutters.
“I do,” I say, surprised by how breathy my voice sounds. “That was the most amazing kiss of my life. And if you did it again…well, you wouldn’t be taking advantage at all.”
He takes a step closer, shortening the distance between us again. “I didn’t help your family because I was trying to get you in bed,” he says.
“I never thought you did.”
“And what you’ve heard is true—I keep things professional on my sets,” he continues, edging a little closer. “I don’t sleep with people who work for me.”
“I’m only an extra,” I point out. “I’m hardly an employee.”
“I offered you a full-time job.”
“That I have yet to accept.”
He’s so close I can feel his breath on my face. “You should walk away right now,” he breathes. “You have no idea what you’re asking of me.”
“Then maybe you can enlighten me.” I try to look innocent as I gaze up into his eyes.
“You haven’t heard the rumors?” There’s a devilish gleam in his eyes. “Apparently I have quite the reputation when it comes to my sexual habits during filming.”
“I’ve heard…something,” I admit. “But I’d rather you tell me yourself what’s true or not.”
He glances toward the door, which is still wide open. In three quick paces he crosses the room and shuts it, granting us some privacy. My heart is in my throat, and my palms have started to grow sweaty. I wipe them on my skirt.
“I maintain my personal policy about sex on my set for two reasons,” he says. “First, to protect myself and my reputation. I refuse to let my career be compromised by speculation and rumor, and I don’t want anyone in this industry thinking I make decisions for my films based off anything but talent and merit. Secondly, I do it to protect the people who work with me. Even if I’m honest about my intentions, there are always women who think getting into my bed will further their careers, and I refuse to take advantage of that. I also refuse to expose them to the rumors and speculation that would follow any sort of sexual relationship.”
“I understand,” I say.
“People always talk,” he goes on. “And I admit that, despite my best intentions, I can’t always keep my private life private. That’s how the other rumors got started.”
“The ones about you turning into some sex fiend whenever you’re filming?”
Surprisingly, he smiles. There’s still a wolfish look in those golden-brown eyes, though.
“I guess that’s one way to put it,” he says. “This stage of production always requires a certain amount of focus. At the end of a fifteen-hour day, I can’t help but long for a little…relief. I didn’t realize my habits were so obvious, but it’s hard to hide anything from an entire crew. And it’s only a matter of time after that before the tabloids learn.” His eyes darken slightly. “I don’t have the emotional space for a relationship during filming. I just need physical release. Over the years I’ve met a few women who were fine with that arrangement.”
“Like Nadia Sweet?”
He looks surprised for a moment but recovers quickly.
“Nadia and I are old friends,” he says. “Sometimes we have fun together when we find ourselves in the same city. We’ve met up a handful of times in the past week, but she flew back to L.A. yesterday.”
I nod, trying to process everything. Finally, I say, “Why are you telling me all of this? To try and scare me away?”
He’s close to me again, but somehow I didn’t even see him move.
“Are you scared?” he asks. “Has this made you think twice about offering to let me bend you over this table?”
Yes, it has. I’ve only known this man a week, and I’m beginning to believe his implication that I’ve bitten off more than I can chew. At the same time, though, all this talk about sexual release has made all the blood rush between my legs. The heat in his eyes isn’t helping, either. Whether it’s wise or not, I want him. And it’s hard to deny that when he’s staring at me like he wants to devour me whole.
“What if it hasn’t?” I ask him. Maybe it’s the burden that’s been lifted from my family or just the general change in my luck this week, but I’m feeling bold.
He’s right in front of me, a tall, strong, imposing figure who could easily pick me up and throw me down wherever he likes. But I’m not afraid of him. He might be a wolf ready to pounce, but he’s also a wolf who would stop at a single word from me—a wolf who might even be looking for an excuse to stop, to walk away. If I didn’t know any better, I’d guess he’s afraid of the power he holds over me.
But try as I might, I can’t bring up any fear. Not enough to stop this, anyway. I’m suddenly acutely aware of the power I hold, of the influence I have over this man. He has everything—fame, money, good looks, and a career some would kill for—but in this moment, I’m in control. I don’t question why. I might not be the prettiest, thinnest, or most successful girl Orlando has met, but there’s no doubting that look in his eyes.
“You can fire me, if that helps,” I tell him.
One side of his mouth quirks. “Firing you would make this situation more complicated, not less.”
“Then maybe I’ll quit,” I say. “I’ll just—”
He cuts me off with a hand against my lips.
“Don’t quit,” he tells me, and the look in those eyes won’t let me argue. “You need the money, at least until you find some other job you prefer.”
I try to open my mouth, but he just shakes his head.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” he goes on. “It wasn’t my intention to put you in an awkward position. But this can’t go further, no matter how much I might want it to.”
I want to scream at him. And nibble his fingers. And kiss him until his eyes cross. I want to feel his hand in my hair again, feel his tongue in my mouth.
Good God, you hardly know this man, I tell myself. And what you do know tells you he’d probably just use you up and throw you away again. I need to keep my head.
He removes his hand from my mouth, and I instantly miss the warmth of his fingers.
“I think you should know,” he says softly, “that I called the police on Ford. They went to his hotel yesterday but they couldn’t find him.”
All thoughts about his tongue slip away. “I saw them outside.”
“I have people investi
gating to see if he went back to L.A.,” Orlando continues. “In the meantime, the police will be monitoring the production for the next few days, and if we don’t find him by then I’ve already contracted additional private security in case he returns. I’d like one of them to keep watch outside your brother’s apartment, too.”
“You think he’d try something?” I ask, a shiver moving down my spine. I never even considered that, but I feel like a fool for ignoring the possibility.
“I don’t know,” Orlando replies. “I’d like to think he’s just an arrogant prick and he’s raced back home to lick his wounds, but I won’t take any chances. Not with my set, and not with your safety.” He catches me beneath the chin, gently tilting my face up toward his, but he doesn’t look like he wants to devour me anymore. Concern pools in his deep eyes.
“I never told Ford where I live,” I point out.
“Hopefully that’s enough. But I’d feel better if we stationed someone there anyway. Just in case.”
“Okay.” I don’t understand this man. In the span of a ten-minute conversation he’s kissed me, refused sex with me, and announced that he hired some security team to keep watch outside my brother’s apartment. And I’m just along for the ride.
His eyes hold mine for a moment longer, the heat swelling in them again, and then he looks down at the table.
“You should go,” he tells me. “There’s a lot to be done before we can resume filming. And people will talk if they catch us in here alone.”
That’s a dismissal if I’ve ever heard one. And I’m not about to stand here and beg him for something more. I might be a hot mess, but I’m not that desperate. Even if the man in question is so gorgeous he makes me want to weep.
So I lift my chin and walk over to the door, grateful that my legs are relatively steady beneath me. When I open the door, though, I can’t stop myself from looking back.
“That won’t be the last time you kiss me,” I tell him.
