TWENTY-ONE
STUNT REHEARSALS MESMERIZED her every time. Try as she might not to sink into the view of—okay, so, yeah, the stunt part was interesting, but she was really just drooling.
The sun had set. All were still there for some two minute night shot. Still no pro, even she knew “two minutes” didn’t mean two minutes. They’d probably be there when the sun rose again.
Updating the schedule according to the handwritten notes she’d been given, this wasn’t an assignment she could fuck up.
“Come here.” Someone caught her hand, yanking her from the chair and around the corner of the nearby building into a narrow alley to plant her back on the wall. “You’ve been driving me crazy all day.”
Her laugh disappeared into his kiss, but he quickly withdrew.
“Beau…” she whispered, sinking into the sensation of his lips on her throat, running her palms back and forth across the width of his shoulders. “Baby, where’s your trailer?”
Both of them knew the answer. And what she was really asking. Though the kissing stopped, the light in his eye didn’t dim.
“I’m fucking addicted to this,” he murmured, cupping her head to kiss her again. “To you, Fawn.” Even though it went against every ounce of good sense his uncle tried to hammer into him. “I’ve been thinking about you all day. You’re right here and I can’t…”
He wasn’t alone in his frustration.
“Trailer,” she murmured, her fingers curving around the sides of his neck. “Right now. And you can.”
Risky? Yes. Better than doing what they wanted to do right there in the alleyway.
The smile that touched him joined his fingers threading between hers. “This way.”
They didn’t get two strides before a shout stopped them. Not directed at them specifically, but elsewhere, close by—there was another exclamation. Struan stopped, turning to glance over her head, concern written all over him.
“Go,” she said, tugging his arm once before letting go.
He snagged the back of her head and scooped her forward to kiss her quick, then rushed back the way they’d come.
Hmm. Leaning against the wall, she folded her hands at her back. The man never got a second to himself.
“Bambi?” Mieux’s voice drew her attention to the mouth of the alleyway. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” she said on an exhale. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t—I probably shouldn’t—Magnus said I should take you home.”
“Why?” she asked, intrigued by Mieux’s reluctance. “What did he do?” Because it could only be Roman. “Disappear? Runaway? Get caught in some compromising position with—”
“No! Oh, no, that’s not… He’s just not happy.”
What a surprise. “Then let’s go back to the house.”
Home it was not, but she’d rather be there than exist under the potential someone may assume she’d have sway with the man tormenting the crew.
Mieux joined her on the journey back, but didn’t stay long. She didn’t mind. Mieux was entitled to her own life.
Besides, alone time was overdue. And she had work to do.
After snagging some crackers from the kitchen, she went upstairs to finish the task. When complete, she saved the file and tossed her headphones onto the bed.
Was it too early to go to sleep? The house was quiet. Whatever happened with Roman, she wasn’t interested. Well, she was, because it impacted others, but she did not want to give a tantrum the time of day. And, yes, she fully believed that whatever his issue, Roman was blowing it way out of proportion. The man had so many troubles that he couldn’t control, he grabbed for the stick any time he thought he’d get away with it.
After midnight was a normal time to go to bed, she’d just climbed to her feet when the front door downstairs opened. She stopped. Who was coming in? Was that—
“You didn’t have to come over here,” Struan said.
“Are you kidding? I’ve had her on a leash,” another male said. “What the fuck is this bullshit?”
“Don’t swear at him like that,” a female said, much more fawning. “Oh, Struan, sweetie…” the woman’s voice stayed so calm, like a mother talking to a child. “What the fuck is this bullshit?”
Struan laughed. “Rox Out just can’t be anything but Rox Out.”
“You’re welcome,” the woman said. “Why aren’t we having this conversation at the club? I’ve been waiting all week for you to show. Your little brother’s blowing up my phone.”
“We’re keeping Roman away from Crimson.”
“Good. Saves me turning him away at the door. I’m sure you didn’t hear me inviting him. He can line up at the main entrance like the more valuable people. And if he gets in, Z will punch him in the face, because, let’s be honest, it’s overdue. I’m not so sure I want to work my magic restraining my Casanova anymore.”
“Rox…” the unknown male warned.
“Okay, geez, if it’s not you, it’s Logan. I so don’t get what everyone sees in this man.”
“Is that helpful?” the unknown male said. “I said you could come if—”
“I could come—oh, baby, you don’t know me if you think I need permission from any man for anything.”
“Except you didn’t know the address.”
“I do now,” the woman said, sly in her delivery. “So what do I need you for?”
“Half the female population of Manhattan,” Struan said. God, it was nice to hear him relaxed. “Percentage is probably higher out here.”
“Mm, right, without his mom looking over his shoulder.”
“If you think geography matters, Rox Out, you don’t know my mom.”
Curiosity took her to the bedroom door, she snuck along the upstairs hallway, concealed by the wall.
“You want a drink?” Struan asked.
“Yeah, I do,” Rox said. “In my empire. Grab anything you need, the car’s still warm outside.”
“I’m not going out.”
“Why not?” Rox said, boastful. “We get cell signal at the club.”
“Or so she’s told. When was the last time you charged your own phone?”
“And I said the money wouldn’t change me.”
“It didn’t. You never did it yourself before, now your guy pays someone to do it.”
“Not exclusively. Though that’s been a tug of war between us since—why are we talking about me? Come on, we’re leaving.”
“I’m not leaving,” Struan was adamant. “I won’t leave her alone in the house with him.”
“Thought he was out.”
“Yeah, but he’ll come back eventually.”
“Like a bad smell. Get her and we’ll all go. Is her name really Bambi or is that a sex thing?”
“It’s her name, not a sex thing,” Struan said, confused. “What kind of sex thing involves animated characters?”
“I don’t know,” the second guy said. “Ask Lola Bunny.”
“He doesn’t call me that in bed,” Rox said, almost sneering. “Or maybe he does, I don’t know, I keep my earbuds in. Playing Pink Floyd on repeat is the only way I have of getting off.”
“Let me guess, ‘Money’?”
“Anything hotter? You wouldn’t understand, Trust Fund Brat. Why are we talking about my relationship again? Let’s talk about yours, oh, wait, you don’t have one because your penis will explode if it visits the same pussy twice.”
She smiled. Rox, whoever she was—wait, Rox, like… Pressing herself to the wall, she slid just a little further along to peek down into the foyer below. Three of them. Struan, Rox, shit, that really was…
“Are you really that bad in bed no woman will lay down with you twice?”
“Your guy had you sign an NDA before you fucked. What’s that say about him?”
“That Lomond secrets will remain Lomond secrets, and he’s put a ring on my finger just to make sure.”
Rox… Roxie. Was having Roxie Kyst there the same as having the press around? Why would Struan trust her there with everything that was going on?
“And we’ll all be paying for that forever.”
“Oh, boo hoo,” Roxie said. “You’d be heartbroken, you can’t stay away from me, Priest.”
“Priest.” Oh, God, that was—now they were all looking up at her, had she—shit. “Uh…”
“Hey!” Roxie called, separating from the group, arms open. “Come here.” She glanced at Struan who shrugged. “I’ve been taking lessons from Jane. Trust me, I’m better at this…” Rolling her wrists, the woman gestured her down. “I’ll be gentle.”
Okay, she’d revealed herself, what choice did she have?
Going down the stairs, she spent more time looking at Struan than anyone else. And not just because he was her anchor.
Roxie came over to meet her at the bottom and immediately pulled her into a hug.
“B, this is Roxanna Kyst and—”
“Tripp Breckenridge,” the guy said.
Shaking his head a little, a smile threatened Struan’s somber lips. “Ignore that, he can’t help it.”
“Can’t help what?” Tripp asked.
“Your swagger’s worse than my guy’s,” Roxie said before pulling back to meet her eye, hands still on her arms. “Are you okay, honey?”
“Am I…?” Another glance at Struan. “I… yes.”
“So you’re the waif from Wishbone,” Tripp said, checking her out with an interest that wasn’t close to a come on. Roman could take lessons. Somehow there was actual respect in that gaze. “You don’t disappoint.”
“I… I’m what?”
“Lot of talk about you.”
“Talk, when? Why—who?”
“You were special requested for the Lighting Darkness event.” That stunned her into silence. “Guess you didn’t know that.”
“I didn’t.”
“Neither did I,” Struan said. “Who?”
“From the top.”
“All the way—”
“Yep.”
“And now you’ve sufficiently freaked her out…” Roxie said, looping their arms together. “Drinks all round! I don’t have my ace bartender with me, but the understudy’s been practicing.”
“I know you’re not talking about Tripp.” Struan led the way toward the living room. “Getting wine from the bottle to the glass taxes him.”
“Well, you know…” Roxie held their link closer. “It involves him taking his hands out of her bra…”
“Shows what you know.” Tripp exuded only pride. “Getting rid of the bra is step one.”
“Before the drink?”
“Way before.”
Struan stopped by the couch. “You want to sit out back?”
“Is Roman afraid of the dark?” Roxie asked. “If so, yes, and let’s turn out all the lights.”
Tripp dropped into the furthest armchair. “That’s the woman’s fiancé you’re talking about.”
When her horror rushed to Struan, the last thing she expected to see was his smile.
“Relax, B, they know it’s not real.”
And just like that, all the tension rushed out of her body. In some possessed moment, she grabbed Roxie into another hug, tighter, and way more sincere than the last.