I was taken back to the day spent looking at apartments in New York. They had all felt like boxes, even the last one on Central Park. All with windows that would have had to be covered. This one looked out onto a beautifully landscaped yard, beyond which I could see the purple-hued sides of the canyon. The house was surrounded on all other sides by acacia, palms, and brilliantly flowering bougainvillea toppling over a well-hidden wall. Anyone who could take pictures through that would have to be a magician.
I wound my hands around Will’s back and tipped up on my toes to kiss him. “It’s great. Thank you.”
He returned the kiss with something much more promising, but right when I was ready to ask for a tour—specifically to the bedroom—Will stepped back.
“I really wish I could give you a tour, but I do have to get to the studio. The director is about to have a meltdown, and I’m pretty sure that Benny is going to fly out here himself next to make sure Max doesn’t sue me for breach of contract.” He rolled his eyes, then gave me another quick kiss before pressing a set of keys in my hands. “There’s a rental car for you to use in the garage, but make yourself at home. I’ll get a break for dinner if you want to come by the set.”
I nodded. “I’d like that. I’d love to see where you’re working.”
Again, there was another eye roll, but this time Will flushed slightly—maybe even with pleasure.
“I’ll have one of the guys pick you up around six.” He stamped another quick kiss on my lips, and with a regretful look, he left.
I turned to the big house that was suddenly at my disposal. For a moment, I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t even sure I could move for fear of screwing something up.
But then I saw the first sign of Will: a worn flannel shirt hanging over the back of a stool in the kitchen. Like a bloodhound drawn to a scent, I beelined for it, picked it up, and buried my nose in the soft fabric. I’d seen Will for less than twenty-four hours, and half that time had been spent plotting an ill-fated intervention for my mother.
The wounds of that failure ached, and I missed Will all over again. The quiet of the last several hours had been necessary, but soon I would be ready to talk. I’d want to process everything that was happening to us. I’d want to figure out where this life was going. Who this man I was with really was.
Soon, I reminded myself. He’ll be back soon.
And until then, I needed to bide my time and try to be a little more patient.
I walked through the house, exploring the place that Will had been calling home for the last few weeks. House seemed like such an ordinary word; this place was incredible. Much like Will’s house at the lake, the living area, dining room, and kitchen all flowed together in one seamless space, spreading outside through retractable walls that opened directly onto a lagoon-like patio. Outside, I found a pool, Jacuzzi, an outdoor kitchen, and alfresco dining area. As I wandered around the house, I quickly realized that the backyard was actually the focus of the entire property, as all of the bedrooms opened onto it with their own retractable walls.
The space, the privacy—I understood why Will needed that part of it. But the rest of the house was so unlike him. It was mostly stark and white, decorated with sudden bright colors, like the midcentury chartreuse couch or the magenta dining table, alongside sleek modern touches like the Lucite chairs or bright brass platform beds. Beautiful, yes. Accessible, no. The Will I knew liked comfort over everything else, and I was afraid to touch most of the things here.
It was in the final bedroom, though, that I finally discovered other signs that Will actually lived in this house—enough that I actually relaxed a bit. There was a computer and a bunch of papers cluttering the desk on one side, a walk-in closet that was empty except for a suitcase that was clearly being lived out of, and a shirt and a pair of pants—previously worn—that had been slung over the bed.
Without thinking, I slipped off my shoes and took a running jump into the bed, scooping up his clothes and squeezing them to my chest as I buried my face in his pillow. I inhaled—there it was, that clean, familiar scent of him. Water. Greenery. Man. Will.
I closed my eyes and continued breathing it in. Though it made me long for the real thing, the scent of him also provided a certain comfort. Outside, the trickle of the pool fountain almost made me believe I was back home, asleep in Will’s bed or in the shack while the water lapped on the banks outside my window. And eventually, with that sweet refrain in my ears and Will’s clothes in my arms, I drifted off to sleep.
17
At six o’clock, after I’d slept for two hours, gone for a dip in the pool, and was thinking about taking the Tesla in the garage out for a spin tomorrow, there was a knock at the door. I found Garrett standing outside, twirling another set of keys in his hand.
“Dinnertime?” he asked.
It took about fifteen minutes to drive to the studio lot, where I handed over my ID with wide eyes to a security guard and was then driven through New York, then the Wild West, and eventually out of a manmade jungle toward a row of giant hangars lined up at the far end of the lot. A cluster of trailers stood together near one of them, while on the other side, several people loitered around what looked like the smashed top of a high-rise building.
“That’s the set for next week,” Garrett said, pointing at the skyscraper. “They’re shooting the finale. Loads of pyrotechnics, from what I hear.” He grinned gleefully.
Garrett parked next to the trailers, then escorted me past a hum of people toward a smaller building marked “Stage 6,” which looked more like a motel, with two floors of doors facing outward in an L-shape.
“This way,” Garrett said as he led me up the stairs. “I think he’s in choreography right now. That’s down here in 6F.”
Most of the doors were closed, and one even had a red light blinking outside that indicated someone was filming, or at least recording, inside. A few other rooms were open, two in which there seemed to be active construction, another containing racks and racks of costumes, another plain room where a few people stood around a table gesturing at what looked like a script. One or two looked up when we passed, but no one paid me much attention.
“In here.” Garrett opened the door of 6F and we walked into a sizable room that was almost fully padded on the floor, walls, and even parts of the ceiling. In one corner, most essential equipment was set up for a gym—there for the use of the actors, it looked like, to train when they weren’t filming. In another corner, several men were hitting each other against the thick pads while being directed.
“No, no, stop!” called out a little man.
The group fell apart as he walked to the center, where he leaned down to help someone up in the middle: Will.
“Listen, mate, you’ve got to get that elbow up at the end,” said the shorter man in a thick Australian accent. “That’s Matt’s cue to bounce, and if he can’t see it, he keeps going like a bull. That’s why he knocks the wind out of you, and if that happens on film, you can’t say your lines. And we all know that Corbyn’ll have my head if he can’t get your sweet voice on camera.”
There was a trickle of laughter around the room. Will grinned and shook his head, which was coated with sweat.
“Okay, okay,” he said. “I get it, Dom. One more time?”
There was a collective groan around the room.
“Let’s break for dinner first,” the man called Dom said with a smirk when he realized I was there. He looked around to all of the guys. “Thirty minutes? We gotta have this ready for tomorrow, guys. We’re close, but not there yet.”
There was a murmur of assent, and then everyone broke off, some jogging out of the room with a curious glance my way. Will traded a few more words with Dom until he looked up and found me. I gave a shy wave. His smile bloomed.
“Lil, come here,” he called, waving me over.
“Thanks, Garrett,” I said. The big man nodded and took a seat in the corner.
“Lil, this is Dominic, our fight choreographer. H
e’s the one responsible for making sure I don’t break my nose. Dom, this is my girl, Maggie.”
“Well, if this bastard could figure out how to find his mark, I wouldn’t have to work so hard,” Dominic said good-naturedly. He shook my hand with a kind smile. “Nice to meet you, love.”
I smiled and nodded shyly. “Nice to meet you too. That, um, looked complicated.”
Dominic looked back at the set of pads and shrugged. “Come back in two weeks when we do the third fight scene. That one’s bound to be a doozy. Poor Fitzy here might chip a tooth.”
Will grimaced slightly at the use of his stage name, but Dominic seemed to be joking.
“Lighten up, mate,” he said with an elbow to Will’s side. “If you can’t deal with me saying that, what are you going to do at the junket, eh?”
Will rolled his eyes, but didn’t answer.
“All right. I’m going to get some grub. Thirty minutes.” Dom strolled off, leaving us together.
Will took my hand and leaned in for a sweaty kiss. It was disturbing how good he smelled, even covered in perspiration.
“Mmmmm,” he hummed. “Damn. I really wish we could go home and do that a little more.”
“Just that?” I joked.
I looked around, but we were alone other than Garrett, who was staring at his phone, so I reached down and squeezed Will’s ass. His shorts were clinging to it in a way that was very distracting, and I couldn’t help myself. Will groaned and dipped his head for another, much more involved kiss—one that quickly had me as breathless as him.
“Will?”
We broke apart at the sound of a female voice, and Will spun away slightly, though his hand kept mine in a tight clasp. A woman stood in the doorway, her hand braced on the doorframe while she perused the room with a pair of sharp blue eyes that matched her skintight dress. I knew immediately who she was. Tall, willowy, and impossibly blonde and beautiful, Amelia Craig was Will’s ex-fiancée and current co-star.
Her gaze traveled over me curiously and perhaps a little cutting. Her perfectly plump lip curled as her eyes met mine.
“Well, hallo there,” she said with a bright, plasticine smile over a posh British accent. I didn’t know what was worse: the fact that she looked like Malibu Barbie, or that she sounded like the Queen of England. “You must be Maggie. Or shall we call you ‘Lily pad’? What an adorable little name. I do hope you didn’t get tangled in anything on your way here.”
I swallowed, taken aback. Even though to Will, I was Lily or Lil no matter where we were, it felt strange to know that this stranger, whose history with Will went far beyond my own, knew at least some of the details of how we met.
Amelia sauntered into the room, narrow hips swaying from side to side in a pair of skin-tight black pants and a cropped shirt that showed off her enviable waistline. I looked down at my appearance: a pair of torn jeans, a simple black t-shirt, and no makeup. Why I hadn’t considered getting a little dressed up before visiting a place where actual movie stars spent their days, I didn’t know, but I was seriously regretting it.
“Hi,” I said, accepting her outstretched hand. Her grip was limp, almost as if she was expecting me to kiss her hand rather than shake it. I let it go quickly. “Nice to meet you.”
“You done for the day?” Will asked her.
She nodded, though her deep blue gaze lingered on me for a moment before turning to him with new vigor.
“We finished up the bits in the office. You know, the one where you’re saving the world and I’m left to watch next to a computer? You’re lucky that set was done ahead of schedule. Corbyn is an absolute beast about time.”
“Well, that’s one thing that hasn’t changed.”
The two of them tittered, sharing some inside joke that I clearly didn’t understand.
“So, Maggie, how long are you visiting LA?” Amelia asked me.
I shrugged. “I, um, don’t really know. I kind of came down last minute.”
“Lil’s here as long as I am,” Will said. He looked down at me hopefully. “At least, for as long as I can convince her to stay.”
“Please illuminate immediately why anyone would need convincing to stay with you, darling,” Amelia broke in.
This time, it was Will’s expression that darkened. I knew what he was thinking of—their nasty breakup, the way it had been splattered all over the papers. The way Amelia had played him to the press for the good of her own career.
The thought gave me about ten more reasons to hate this woman beyond petty jealousy. But the way it clearly bothered Will got to me even more. If it was that far in the past, why did it still get under his skin?
“Well, we’re so lucky you stumbled upon Will and got him out of his shell,” Amelia said to me. “Honestly, we thought we’d lost him.” She gazed at Will almost longingly, and if I wasn’t mistaken, there was a sheen of tears in her eyes. “It really did break my heart, thinking you were dead.”
Will softened a bit. “Hey, Amy. I’m okay. You know I’m sorry.”
Sorry? He was sorry? I wondered then how many people Will had been apologizing to while we’d been apart. And how many times he’d had this conversation.
“I’ve missed you dreadfully, you know,” she said quietly.
Will shifted uncomfortably beside me and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. Well. I’m back, I guess.”
“And I’m so glad for it.” Her voice was breathy, soft. The kind that probably appeared in many, many men’s fantasies.
Maybe even Will’s.
I blinked, trying and failing to shake that image out of my head. If I went down that road, I already knew it would be incredibly hard to dig myself out of it.
We stood there together, the three of us, me feeling uncomfortably like a third wheel. It was very, very difficult not to glare at this woman, who, of course, had said nothing but nice things to me for the last few minutes. But I didn’t like her. At all.
“Oh, darling, come here,” Amelia said. “You’re an absolute mess, you know that? Dom’s working you much too hard.”
She crooked her finger, and after a second, Will stepped toward her, dropping my hand. Amelia tipped up on her toes so they were face to face, their mouths only inches apart. It was all too easy to imagine them closing the gap, his full mouth pressing on hers. They looked very, very good together. Natural.
With her thumb, she wiped a large droplet of sweat from his cheek, and stepped back. “There. All better.”
Will gave a tight smile, then turned around to grab a towel off a chair. In the corner, Garrett was watching the entire exchange with veiled curiosity. Amelia looked at me, deliberately stuck her thumb in her mouth and sucked the sweat off of it. My mouth dropped.
“See you around…Lily pad,” she said with a wink, and sauntered out.
For a few seconds, I stared at the doorway, unsure if what I’d seen had really happened. Had this chick really sucked sweat off my boyfriend’s forehead? Had he really not noticed?
“Hey.” Will’s calm timbre broke through the fury of questions spinning in my head. “You ready to eat?”
As if in answer, my stomach gave a massive growl. Will chuckled, and took my hand again.
“Come on, Lil,” he said. “I might be stuck with steamed vegetables and fish for the next eight weeks, but you can take advantage of the snack table for me.”
Fifteen minutes later, we were sitting at a tiny table in his trailer, Will eating not cod, but salmon, me with a plate full of crudité and pizza.
“Not to sound super disappointed or anything, but I expected something nicer,” I remarked as I looked around the trailer. “Bigger, maybe.”
It was basically like the inside of a roomy RV, with a small kitchenette, a lounge area, and a bed in the back. It was a little claustrophobic, especially for someone who usually prioritized space.
Will looked around and shrugged. “Eh. I never bought my own—this is whatever my mother negotiated as part of the rider in the original contract, and Be
nny didn’t bother to change it. At seventeen, I was just excited to have my own space.”
“You didn’t have a trailer before that?”
He smirked. “Not one I didn’t have to share with my mom or a chaperone.” He waggled his eyebrows, and I swallowed a giggle before taking a bite of pizza.
“God,” Will said as he watched the cheese meet my mouth. “You’re killing me with that, you know?”
I turned the pizza toward him. “Want a bite?”
Will looked pained. “I shouldn’t. The call sheet has me shirtless in two weeks.”
I quirked an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure your abs could handle a slice or two.”
“That’s not what my trainer says. And if they aren’t looking good enough by a week from Sunday, I’ll be in trouble with the director too. Which means trouble with Max. He’s already mad because Theo released the video.”
I could sense his distress when he considered Max, and only then did I realize the real pressure he was under. Max had him by the balls, so to speak, which was the main reason Benny had argued not to report Theo for releasing unlicensed pornography. Will had done a very bad thing by shirking his contract, and it was clear that he had to deliver the goods with this movie, or else he’d never get out of it.
I pulled the pizza back. “I shouldn’t tease. I’m sorry.”
But before I could pull the slice back completely, Will wrapped a hand around my wrist to hold it in place, and took a giant bite with complete and utter glee.
“Ahmmmm, that’s good,” he moaned as he lay back on the sofa and chewed.
We continued to eat together, but something still bothered me. His call sheet was on the table in front of us—he would be filming into the night to make up for the missed scenes this morning and keep production on track. There was nothing that I could see that involved Amelia, but that didn’t keep me from wondering what was next.
Indiscreet (The Discreet Duet Book 2) Page 18
