Chapter 14
Jacob
Jacob stared at his phone, frustration tightening his chest. A hot flush of anger tangled with something he refused to name.
He shouldn’t have sent the text. Shouldn’t have let the impulse win.
Liam’s number had been in his phone since the first production meeting, added by an assistant for “logistics.” He had never used it, though his hand had hovered over the delete button more than once.
Deleting it would’ve meant admitting something he wasn’t ready to face; keeping it had been a quieter kind of denial.
Now that denial sat in front of him in the form of three words he should never have typed.
Restraint had always been his protection, but right now everything felt unstable, and Liam was at the center of it all.
Sweet, reckless, unguarded Liam. Jacob wanted him like an addiction, a need lodged so deep inside him it made every denial feel like a lie.
It didn’t matter anymore that Liam was a man.
That detail was irrelevant; it had never changed anything.
Liam was all heart and emotion; everything Jacob had spent his life avoiding.
Soft where Jacob was sharp. Loud where Jacob was silent.
Chaos in the space Jacob had carved out for control.
The phone vibrated in his hand, and he immediately tensed, already braced for Liam’s reply. Instead, the name flashing across the screen froze him colder than ice. Caroline.
He wasn’t at the house. He’d left at four that morning for a sunrise shoot—a scene Liam wasn’t in—and had been on set when everything detonated online. Afterwards, he holed up in his trailer, unwilling to face what waited for him at home.
He dragged in a slow breath, forcing calm into his voice before picking up. “Good morning.”
“I saw the video.” Caroline’s tone was steady, composed as always, but he could hear the strain under it.
“It was a scene.” The words came out sharper than he intended.
A careful pause followed, the kind of silence he knew well. He could almost see her on the other end, spine straight, weighing her words with practiced precision.
“I know that,” she said at last, quiet but firm. “But it didn’t look like one, and that matters. People are already speculating.”
Jacob rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion pressing behind his eyes. “They speculate about everything. It’ll pass.”
“Maybe for you,” Caroline said gently, “but Liam is more vulnerable. They won’t be as forgiving with him.”
The reminder struck harder than she knew, guilt tightening like a vice in his chest. He’d thought of nothing else. “I know.”
Her voice stayed careful, almost neutral. “Your team wants you quiet for now. That’s probably right, but if this escalates, we’ll have to act. People trust you, Jacob. We can spin this if we have to.”
He heard what she didn’t say—her faith in their marriage was stronger than the whispers online, stronger than the noise.
Caroline always understood what mattered, and she trusted him not to let them falter.
She was unshakable, a woman who would guard her family fiercely and give everything for her children.
“I won’t let it get there,” he said firmly. He said it like a promise, but it felt like a lie the moment it left his mouth.
“Good.” Relief edged her voice. “We’re in this together. I trust you.”
The words hit like a stone in his chest. He hadn’t earned that trust—not with the lies he was carrying around lately. But he couldn’t bring himself to shatter her faith now.
“Thank you,” he said, the words tasting hollow.
“See you tonight?”
“Of course.”
She hung up first, leaving him in the hush of the trailer. His shoulders ached from the effort of holding himself upright.
When the phone buzzed again, Liam’s name lit up the screen.
Liam: I don’t know.
Jacob’s heart kicked. He could see the fear in those three words, the uncertainty Liam couldn’t hide.
Jacob hated himself for letting it get this far.
Liam was still young; Jacob should have known better by now.
He should have been the wall between them, the one to hold steady when Liam couldn’t.
His fingers moved quickly, forcing detachment into the reply.
Me: Lay low. It’ll pass.
Liam: Will it?
Jacob’s jaw clenched. His thumb hovered uselessly over the letters, a hundred words tumbling through his mind that he couldn’t afford to send.
He wanted to promise Liam safety, something that sounded like truth, but nothing he wrote could be trusted.
At last, he typed the only thing that kept the mask intact.
Me: It has to.
He set the phone down harder than he meant to and turned away before he could give in to the impulse to say more.
He told himself he hadn’t lost control, that he was still the man who could draw the line and hold it, but he knew the truth—Liam had pulled the ground out from under him, and pretending otherwise wouldn’t erase the all-consuming need Liam had somehow managed to ignite.
A knock came before he could gather himself. He didn’t lift his head. “Come in.”
Ellen stepped inside and shut the door with a soft click. She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall near the window, her gaze cutting across the space. She didn’t rush to fill the silence, just studied him.
Jacob stayed where he was at the table, phone facedown, shoulders tight, a cup of coffee at his elbow, gone cold hours ago.
“I assume you’ve seen it,” she said at last.
He gave a short nod. “Yeah.”
“You okay?”
“Fine.”
“You look like shit.”
The corner of his mouth tugged. “Appreciate the support.”
She didn’t move, just watched him with those piercing director’s eyes that missed nothing.
They’d worked together before. Twice. Once on a gritty crime drama that had half the budget and twice the attitude, and once on a miniseries that had earned them both awards and more sleepless nights than he cared to count.
Ellen had been the same both times: a sharp-eyed, no-nonsense director who stripped away ego and bullshit until nothing was left but the marrow of a performance.
She didn’t play games, and she never flinched.
The first time they’d clashed, Jacob had lost a scene.
Not because he’d missed his lines—he never missed his lines—but because he’d kept the emotion too tightly leashed.
Ellen had waited until the cameras stopped, pulled him aside, and told him he had to let go if he wanted a masterpiece.
She insisted without vulnerability, he would always fall short of brilliance.
He had never forgotten it.
“You’ll be fine,” she said. “But you already know that. You’re Jacob fucking Wolfe. Your team’s holding the line. Liam’s team…” She hesitated. “Let’s just say they’re in uncharted waters.”
That got him to look up.
“Emma’s name is already trending,” she went on. “People’s imaginations are running wild. They’re not subtle about it.”
Jacob exhaled through his nose, the sound too close to a growl.
“You want me to lie and say this is a disaster?” Her tone stayed even. “From where I’m standing, on the show’s side—this is gold.”
His jaw tightened. “Gold?”
“That video is a masterclass in unresolved tension. The way you held him, the way he broke for you? Half the audience probably climaxed in their seats. Everyone wants to see what happens next.”
Jacob’s eyes flicked away, face tightening.
“I’m not saying I wanted this,” she added. “But I’d be stupid not to see it for what it is. This storm? I can ride it.”
She pushed off the wall and leaned against the tiny counter, folding her arms again. “I’m locking the set for all future intimate scenes. Just me, the essential crew, and the intimacy coordinator. Nobody else.”
His voice came rough. “For us? Or for damage control?”
“Both.” She gave a slight shrug. “It should’ve been protocol already. That kiss… it was too much. I take responsibility for that.”
Her words hung heavy, pressing into the small space.
She studied him for a moment longer, her expression almost soft now. “I’ve seen you tired. I’ve even seen you close to rattled. I’ve never seen you like this. You don’t usually break character, Jacob. Not like that.”
He said nothing.
“Most actors stay in control. They sell the moment but stay behind the glass. You two?” Her voice dropped. “You shattered it. No one in that room thought it was acting.”
His eyes cut to hers, flat and sharp.
“I’m not judging,” she said. “But don’t pretend it was just performance. I saw it. He felt it. And now half the world has, too.”
Jacob dragged a hand through his hair, breath heavy.
“You want to protect him?” Ellen asked quietly. “Then get your shit together, because Liam’s in freefall, and if you don’t stabilize, he will crash.”
She straightened, walked to the door, and paused with her hand on the latch. “I don’t care whether or not it’s real,” she said, glancing back. “But if it feels real on camera? That’s all I need.”
Then she was gone, the trailer door closing with a muted thud.