Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
CLOVER
The shooting schedule has been brutal. With days starting in the hair and makeup trailer at four a.m. and shooting extending until eleven p.m., I’m beyond exhausted.
It’s apparent on my face as I carefully add more concealer underneath my eyes, trying to erase the impact losing countless hours of sleep has had. It’s been weeks, and it’s adding up.
On top of it all I’ve been trying to cram in extra workouts, needing to ensure I’m at my best for the stunts.
Needing to ensure I’m the perfect fit for the character.
I can’t control some of what the commenters have been saying, but I can control my body, so that’s where my focus has been going.
To help, I’ve started taking caffeine pills to see if they can give me a little boost.
But I worry that nothing is working. My skin is dull, and I feel self-conscious. Not exactly a great way to feel going into a date—fake, or not.
I look so out of place wearing such a beautiful dress in my tiny bedroom. Turning to the side, I look at my body’s profile in the mirror. The deep green satin dress hugs my curves closely, and I fight the urge to rip it off and put something baggy on.
When I can’t stomach my reflection any longer, I head out to meet my date.
When he arrives, Roman pulls up in a car that probably costs more than my parents’ house. It almost feels like I shouldn’t even touch something so expensive, so I stand looking at the vehicle for a few seconds too long before the window rolls down.
“You coming or what?” Roman growls.
Ah, we’re off to a strong start… wonderful. God grant me the patience required to deal with him today.
“Well, aren’t you just a ball of sunshine today?” My voice is chipper and dripping with honey. It’s an added bonus knowing that it’ll piss him off.
“Get in,” he mutters.
“Not unless you ask nicely, sweetheart.”
“Please get in, lovebug,” he replies sarcastically. Not my favorite nickname, but you know what, I’ll take it over ‘shithead’ or something equally offensive.
I hop into the car, and buckle up while Roman stews in silence next to me.
This bodes well for dinner. My stomach is in knots at the prospect of being stuck at a small table with him and eating in front of him.
The last thing I need is his making a shitty comment about what I order or how I chew funny or something like that.
The rest of the drive is quiet until we park and Roman clenches and flexes his hands, like he’s disgusted at the prospect of having to touch me.
Dick. Without a word, he exits the car and goes around to my side.
Opening the door for me, he extends a hand and helps pull me up and out of the car with ease.
Cameras flash as I hop out. Somewhere in the distance I hear our names being called, but I focus on the physical contact between us, letting it be my anchor.
I keep my hand wrapped around his arm as he leads us inside the restaurant, telling myself to ignore what his scent does to me. It should be illegal for someone who’s such a jerk to smell so addictive.
The flashes fade as we step into the dimly lit restaurant.
For such a nice place, there’s a strange chill in the air here.
Goosebumps dot my skin, and I try to scrub them away and infuse some warmth into my skin.
Looking down, Roman notices me rubbing my arms. I shiver slightly under the intensity of his gaze.
“It’ll be a moment for your table,” the hostess smiles at Roman, not once sparing me a glance. I roll my eyes. I know he’s not really my boyfriend, but it still pisses me off when other women so obviously check him out in front of me.
“Here,” Roman takes off his dark suit jacket, handing it to me. I hesitate to grab it, and he places it around my shoulders. His scent wraps around me, and the warmth coming off the jacket seeps into my skin, both are equally addictive.
As we wait in silence, Roman pulls me toward him, wrapping his arm around me in a move that is so simple and casually possessive.
It shows anyone who is looking that I’m his.
That sends a pulse of heat between my legs, and I swallow.
I wonder in what other ways he could be possessive, how he’d claim what’s his in the bedroom…
Giving my head a shake, I blow out a quick breath.
“Excuse me,” a quiet voice comes from beside us. There’s a man a bit older than us, and he’s wearing a nervous grin. “I’m so sorry to bother you both, but my kid is a huge Darkness Rising fan, and I was wondering if I could get your autographs?”
Roman’s arm leaves my body, and he gives the man a big grin. “Of course, want to take a video for him too?”
“A video?” the man asks, trying not to sound too excited.
“Absolutely, what’s their name?”
“Jesse,” the father beams, pulling out his cellphone. Roman takes it in his hands and flips the camera to face him and the dad.
“Hey Jesse, this is Roman and Clover!” With his free hand, he pulls me into the frame.
I give a little wave. “We’re here with your dad, and we heard you’re a big Darkness Rising fan.
” What he says next takes me completely off guard.
“That’s why we wanted to offer you a chance to come visit the set and be in the movie as a background actor one day.
” His smile is so genuine, it takes my breath away.
The dad breaks into a laugh of disbelief.
“If it’s okay with your dad, that is.” I add with a smile, wondering who the hell gave Roman the clearance for this kind of thing.
“Let us know what you think,” Roman adds before signing off with a wave.
“Are you serious?” The dad asks, vibrating with excitement.
“Absolutely, here, give this number a call,” Roman scrawls something down on a piece of paper that the enamored hostess hands him. “We can coordinate something and get him on set for a day.”
“You have no idea how much this means. Thank you,” the dad says, tears welling up in his eyes. “Jesse is going to be so excited, thank you.”
“We’re looking forward to meeting him,” Roman says as they shake hands. The dad heads back toward his table when Roman stops him. “The autographs.” Scrawling his name on another piece of paper from the hostess, Roman’s autograph is surprisingly clear. He looks at me, handing the pen my way.
Oh shit, right… my signature. This is my first time autographing anything, and butterflies swarm inside me with the realization.
Holding the pen in hand, I hover across the paper for a second, debating how I want my autograph to look.
I never practiced one, and now I’m mentally kicking myself for it.
“This would be the part where you sign your name, honey,” Roman says quietly so only I can hear. Gritting my teeth, I decide to put my name down in cursive.
“First time actually autographing something,” I smile as I hand the paper to the dad.
“It won’t be the last, I’m sure,” he grins. “Thank you so much.”
“Mr. Everett, your table is ready.”
We’re led through the packed dining space, winding around tables and stepping past servers. This is clearly the place to be tonight. The hostess leads us to a table near the back, and my stomach does a little flip when Roman pulls my chair out for me. It’s just pretend… I remind myself.
The hostess hands us our menus and then takes off.
“Are you sure we can get that kid cleared to visit the set?” I ask as a server drops off two glasses of water.
“Of course,” he answers, like it’s as obvious as the sun coming up again tomorrow.
“How are you so confident?”
“Clover, my family owns the studio. We can call it a nepo baby privilege.” His face sours on the word nepo baby, and it brings back all the feelings from our fight near the studio fountain. I’d been so mad at him. Swallowing, I look down at my menu.
“Well, that was actually really sweet of you,” I mutter mostly to the menu, but loud enough for Roman to hear. When I look up, his eyes scan my face briefly before turning back to his menu. He doesn’t respond, which I suppose is just as well.
I’m not sure what to order. What I wouldn’t give to order a pasta dish and not feel like that was committing a sin. I settle for something that seems healthy enough. Besides, I won’t be eating much of it.
The server comes back to take our orders, and with the menus gone I feel oddly vulnerable, like I’ve lost my shield.
Like a coward, I resort to looking around the restaurant instead of staring at my date.
Only when I turn to my left, I find a striking pair of familiar icy eyes staring at me.
My skin prickles, and my blood turns to ice.
“Roman…” I hiss, trying to be discreet.
“What?” he asks, clearly not seeing what I am. Before I get a chance to give any further warning, Deacon Everett towers over our table.
“Son.” His voice is deep, and there’s absolutely no warmth to it. I’m no expert in family relations, but the greeting feels cold and like it’s meant to intimidate.
Roman’s body tenses ever so slightly across the table, and he looks up, biting the inside of his cheek.
“Deacon.”
A petite blonde woman steps up behind the Starlight Studios head and gives Roman a small warm smile. “Hi, Honey.” I’m struck by how much she looks like Jill.
“Mom.” Roman stands and gives her a quick kiss on the cheek. “This is Clover.”
Awkwardly, I move to my feet, and stick a hand out. “Hi, Mrs. Everett.”
“Lovely to meet you,” she says before giving me a quick handshake that’s so soft it’s barely there. “What a wonderful surprise to see you two here.”
Deacon gives a humorless laugh that seems to directly contradict what she said. Okay, now I see that being a dick is a hereditary trait for Roman. Poor bastard never had a chance.
“Yes, I do hope you’re enjoying your date,” Deacon looks me up and down with a glare that’s meant to make me feel about two inches tall.
I square my shoulders and make direct eye contact with him. “We are, thanks.”
“Just dinner tonight?” Mrs. Everett inquires politely, clearly used to this level of uncomfortable tension hanging thick in the air.
“Roman’s taking me to a concert after this.”
Deacon barks out a laugh, and my stomach drops. Sure, I don’t like Roman, but I can’t stand that this man’s clearly trying to be rude. I don’t know what the hell their history is, but it’s clear that Deacon’s a level A asshole, and I won’t be tolerating that right now.