Chapter Twenty
ROXY TOOK THE final sip of her coffee and tossed it into the trash can.
Five minutes until she was scheduled to meet Johan for rehearsal, and she didn’t want to be a second early.
She hated this. Hated the jittery feeling, the pit in her stomach.
This was wrong. She shouldn’t feel this way.
It would end tonight, one way or the other.
That’s what she continued to tell herself, over and over.
It was the only thing that had convinced her to put on her high heels and leave the apartment.
She leaned back against the outside of the coffee shop and watched traffic zoom past. Her body felt tired, weighed down.
Anxiety was making her muscles sore. There was a buzzing in her head that wouldn’t go away.
Yesterday, she’d gone into the rehearsal confident.
She’d known what the fucker was about and she’d still walked in with her shoulders back, her chin up.
Today, she didn’t feel that way. It made her beyond pissed off, because she knew what it stemmed from.
Stupid. She’d been so fucking stupid . For one night she’d let her guard down, and now she’d pay for it.
Louis’s behavior had been almost comical this morning.
She hadn’t been expecting an invitation to dinner.
But a tiny part of her had hoped. He’d still wanted her to stay over that night his sisters had shown up, right?
Meeting the rest of his family wasn’t that far-fetched.
Even if it scared her. Even if she’d never had the experience of meeting a guy’s parents before, she’d be okay meeting Louis’s family, as long as he was with her.
The way he’d clammed up, stammering his way through some way to avoid seeing her or bringing her around his family .
.. it told her everything she needed to know.
Either he’d gotten what he wanted and didn’t want to bother with her anymore, or, maybe even worse, he was ashamed to bring a struggling actress who slept on a futon around his wealthy family.
Either way hurt. She didn’t need this hurt right now.
It dog-piled on top of her Johan-induced nerves and flattened her to the floor.
Normally she would get right back up, but today she felt like curling up and staying there.
Dammit. She’d liked him. So much. It felt like she’d left a part of herself behind with him.
Her lack of determination scared her, because she’d never been without it.
She didn’t want to walk into this inevitable confrontation with Johan with anything less than one hundred percent confidence.
She needed it in order to turn down the role of a lifetime, because it wasn’t going to be easy.
If last night and this morning had proven anything, it was that sex was just that.
Sex. Maybe it hadn’t felt that way with Louis.
Maybe it had been incredible ... ruining her for a good long while.
At the end of the day, though, it had been a means to an end.
Louis had wanted her, so he’d done what he’d needed to do to get her.
The chase was over now, though. Just like every other guy she’d been with, her giving in had been his curtain call.
This mind-set was a dangerous thing when one was presented with a major choice.
Was turning down the role worth avoiding one unpleasant encounter?
If all it meant was another meaningless night?
Her self-respect was on the line here, but so was her career.
She could walk out of rehearsal with her pride intact, but she’d find her ass back in New Jersey working retail fast enough to make her head spin. Where was the pride in that?
God, there might have been a tiny part of her that wanted to give in to Johan, just to prove a stupid point to herself. That she didn’t need Louis or his perfect touch or sweet words. He hadn’t meant those words. They’d been said in the heat of the moment, but they didn’t hold water now.
No, she wouldn’t let this be about making a point. She wouldn’t give Louis any more power over her mind than he already had. If she found it impossible to abandon the role of Missy, a role she’d become seriously attached to, she would look at it as a business transaction. Nothing else.
You can’t really be considering this. Johan makes your skin crawl.
Maybe she wasn’t considering it. Perhaps it was simply the pain talking.
Pain that had been driven home with a clichéd I’ll call you as she’d walked out Louis’s door this morning.
She’d blocked his phone number before the elevator had reached the lobby.
Not once would she check her phone, hoping to see his number. Not going to happen.
Roxy looked at her cell phone screen. One minute to go.
She crossed the street toward the studio’s offices and went in the front entrance.
The hallway was empty and silent as she made her way toward the back, where she and Johan had rehearsed the night before.
He sat cross-legged on the floor reading a magazine, so deceptively laid-back she almost laughed.
She could easily excuse herself for having the wrong impression of him.
The image he projected to the media screamed fun-loving genius, when in reality he was a man who got what he wanted the wrong way.
He was nothing more than a spoiled, overgrown dickhead.
She rapped on the open door once to alert him to her presence. His predatory smile when he looked up made her feel nauseous, but she breathed through it. Even though her purse felt like a safety net, she took it off her shoulder and set it on the table. “Hey.”
“Hey, hey. Come on in.” He came to his feet. “You look gorgeous.”
“Thank you.” She’d worn pants and a long-sleeved, button-down shirt to send him a message. Apparently it had been intercepted at the door by his ego. “I’ve been running through the lines all day. I’m feeling a lot more comfortable with the driving scene.”
He nodded, looking distracted. “Let’s start with the scene where you got tripped up yesterday. The, uh ...” His smile widened. “Bar scene where Missy and Luke dance together.”
Zero points for subtlety. “That’s not the scene where I got tripped up.”
“No?” He snatched his beaten-up script off the table and flipped through a couple pages. “Well, let’s start there anyway. It’s an important scene, and you need to get the timing down.”
“There’s not a lot of dialogue in that scene.” Back off. Please, back off . “I don’t think I’ll have any problem with it. I’d rather work on something else.”
He scratched the back of his head, the face she’d once thought handsome transforming with amusement. “Last time I checked, I wrote the screenplay.” His gaze pegged her. “And I’m casting the film.”
There it was. A thinly veiled ultimatum.
Her heart jumped into her throat when he moved closer.
She wanted to turn and run out the door, but she felt rooted to the spot.
Goose bumps broke out along her skin, cold ones that made her want to wrap her arms around herself for heat.
When she thought he would stop in front of her, he circled around behind her instead.
“I like you, Roxy. I think you’re perfect for this role.
” He brushed her hair behind her shoulder.
A move that reminded her of Louis so much that she wanted to cry.
This wasn’t Louis. He wasn’t anything like Louis .
.. or the Louis she’d thought she knew.
“I want you to be comfortable with me. This role is so important to the film. We need to connect before we can bring Missy to life. Together .”
Oh, God. Gross. She would have turned around and laughed in his face if she hadn’t wanted to bawl like a baby.
He must have done this before to have lines like that one locked and loaded.
How many actresses had he done this to? She didn’t want to be another victim who had to keep the secret or risk being shamed.
She loathed the idea of it. “Johan, Missy is important to me. I’ll bring her to life. I will.”
He circled back around to stand in front of her, giving her a considering look. “Then let’s start with the dancing scene, shall we?”
Knowing it was mistake, she nodded once.
Johan tossed his script back onto the table, looking like a toddler who’d just been handed a shiny new toy.
He didn’t waste any time stepping into her personal space and settling a hand on her right hip.
Her posture stayed rigid as he tugged her close.
She squeezed her eyes shut against the unwanted sensation of his breath against her ear.
They started to sway, but she couldn’t relax, couldn’t force her muscles to loosen.
Don’t do this. Wrong. So wrong. Get the hell out of here.
And do what, Roxy? Go back to singing telegrams? Stripping? Go home and admit failure to your parents? They would love it. They would grin and tell you life’s a bitch, then go back to drinking Budweiser on their shitty couch.
Grief slammed her. Self-pity that she’d never let herself feel before swarmed down on her, making up for lost time. What did any of this matter? Who cared about her pride besides herself? No one. No one gave it a thought. No one cared. Why should she?
Louis’s smiling face appeared in her head, and she couldn’t stop the tears from tracking down her cheeks.
Johan’s hand slipped further down her back.