Chapter 28
MICAH
The ocean was choppy. Nothing dangerous, just enough to keep everyone slightly off-balance and a little nauseated as we tried to capture the boat chase sequence.
The production had rented three vessels—one for the main action, one for camera equipment, and one for support crew and craft services.
We’d been out here since dawn, and the sun was now beating down with that relentless Hawaiian intensity.
Everything was going fine.
Technically.
The shots were coming together. Jack was actually hitting his marks. The stunt coordinator had the action choreographed down to the second. Even the weather cooperated, giving us that perfect combination of dramatic clouds and golden light.
But I couldn’t focus.
Grace stood at the bow of the main boat, getting her hair touched up between takes. She was in character as Elena—soaking wet, terrified, fighting for her life. The performance was flawless. Every take, she delivered exactly what I needed.
And she wouldn’t look at me.
Not once. Not a single glance in my direction that wasn’t strictly professional. When I gave her notes, she nodded, said “got it,” and turned away. When I called cut, she immediately retreated to wherever Patty was stationed, the two of them huddled together like they were plotting state secrets.
I understood. She was being a professional. She did exactly what we’d agreed to do, but it fucking sucked.
And I wasn’t an idiot. She was using her PA as a shield. I wasn’t sure why she thought I couldn’t keep up with the professional facade we’d been doing earlier.
It all went back to that stupid cliff scene. I overreacted and she was going to hold it against me.
God, I couldn’t wait for the shoot to be over. I’d been waiting for it to start and now I couldn’t wait for it to get over with.
“Micah?” Toby’s voice cut through my brooding. “We’re ready for the next setup.”
“Right. Yeah.” I pulled my attention back to the monitors, trying to remember what we were shooting next. The sequence where Elena jumps from one boat to another. Grace’s stunt double would handle the actual jump, but we needed coverage of Grace’s reactions.
“Let’s get Grace to her mark,” I called out.
She moved into position without acknowledging me. Patty hovered nearby with a water bottle and a parasol, shielding Grace from the sun during the set up. I watched them exchange a few words, Grace laughing at something Patty said.
She could laugh with Patty. But she couldn’t even smile at me. Definitely intentional.
The thought was depressing as hell.
“Rolling!” the AD called out.
“Action!”
Grace delivered her lines perfectly. The fear in her eyes, the desperation in her voice—all of it exactly right.
I should have been thrilled. Instead, I found myself watching her face for any hint of the woman I’d held in my arms. I thought about the woman who’d shown up at my door with takeout and a smile that made my chest ache.
But that woman wasn’t there. Just the character.
“Cut!” I called out. “Let’s go again. Grace, on the second beat, I want you to?—”
I stopped. What did I want? I’d lost my train of thought completely, distracted by the way the sunlight caught her wet hair, the way her chest heaved with exertion. It reminded me of her naked and breathing heavy while I moved inside her.
“Want me to what?” she asked, her tone perfectly neutral.
“Just, uh, more intensity on the second beat. The moment you realize you’re going to have to jump.”
She nodded. “Got it.”
No smile. No private look. Nothing.
On the fifth take, I called cut when there was nothing wrong with the shot. The DP gave me a look that clearly said what the hell, man? I pretended not to notice.
“Let’s take fifteen,” I announced. “Everyone hydrate. It’s hot out here.”
The crew scattered gratefully toward the shade and the cooler of drinks. I moved to the railing of the boat, gripping the metal bar and staring out at the ocean. Maui rose in the distance, all lush green mountains and pristine beaches. Paradise.
It didn’t feel like paradise.
I heard footsteps behind me and my heart jumped, hoping it was Grace. But when I turned, it was just one of the grips, heading to the other side of the boat.
Of course it wasn’t Grace. She was probably with Patty right now, making sure she stayed far away from me. We were only on the same boat because she had to be.
It was slowly driving me insane.
I really liked her. That was the problem. This wasn’t just physical attraction or a fun fling to pass the time during production.
Somewhere along the way, I’d fallen for her. And now I couldn’t even talk to her.
The timing was terrible. I needed to be at my absolute best to get this production finished on time and under budget. Every day cost money. Every mistake cost money. I couldn’t afford to be distracted and pining over my on-set crush like some lovesick teenager.
But here I was. Pining.
I pulled out my phone and checked my messages. Not only was I thinking about the movie, but I also had a little something else cooking on the back burner.
I didn’t care what the studio said about generating buzz. I didn’t care about Chantilly’s follower count or Jack’s PR strategy or any of the bullshit justifications they’d thrown at me. Grace was being dragged through the mud for something she didn’t do, and I was going to put an end to it.
I just needed to talk to Chantilly first. Get her buy-in or at least warn her it was coming. She’d probably throw a fit about losing her precious engagement numbers, but I didn’t give a damn.
This had gone on long enough.
Tonight. After we wrapped. I’d find her and have the conversation.
After getting back to the hotel, showering and changing, I made my way to Jack’s suite. Lucky me, Chantilly was there. I didn’t want to talk to her, but she was the one I had to convince.
I sat across from them on a cream-colored sofa. Jack was sprawled in an armchair, his attention completely absorbed by his phone. Every few seconds, he’d let out a little chuckle at something on the screen. Probably watching his own movie clips.
The guy was obsessed with himself.
Chantilly perched on the arm of his chair, her legs crossed and back straight.
“What do you want?” she asked. “I have Jack’s contract, so if you plan on trying to make changes, I will call our attorney.”
I rolled my eyes. “Relax. It’s not about that.”
“Jack?”
“Huh,” he muttered without looking up.
“I’m correcting the record about who you were really kissing,” I said.
Jack wasn’t paying attention. It wasn’t his call, anyway.
I looked at Chantilly.
“So,” she said, drawing out the word. “You want to end our little arrangement.”
“I think it’s time,” I said. “The buzz has been great. Everyone’s talking about the movie. But if we let this go on much longer, we’re going to miss the window.”
“What window?” She examined her nails, feigning disinterest.
“The window where people actually care about the truth.” I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, steepling my hands.
“Right now, everyone’s invested in this story.
They want to know what really happened. If we wait another week, another two weeks, they’ll have moved on to the next scandal. The reveal won’t land the same way.”
Chantilly’s eyes narrowed slightly. I could see her processing, calculating the angles. I had to admit, she had way more experience manipulating an audience.
“And there’s another issue,” I continued. “The longer we wait, the more this becomes Jack’s legacy. Not the movie, not his performance. Everyone is going to be focused on the affair. That’s what people will remember.”
Jack glanced up from his phone for half a second. “Huh?”
“Nothing, babe,” Chantilly said, patting his shoulder. “Go back to your videos.”
He did, immediately.
“I don’t know,” she said, turning back to me. “My engagement is still through the roof. I’ve gained another thirty thousand followers since we landed in Hawaii. People are invested.”
“They pity you.”
“I’m the scorned woman.”
“And Grace is the homewrecker. I want it done.”
“It’s internet gold,” she said.
“They’re invested in drama,” I countered. “Give them resolution and they’ll be even more invested. The reveal is the payoff. That’s where you get the real numbers.”
She chewed her lip, considering.
“Think about it,” I pressed. “Right now, people think your husband cheated on you. They feel sorry for you, sure, but they also think you’re a victim. A pushover who didn’t know what was happening under her own nose.”
Chantilly’s expression hardened. I’d hit a nerve.
“But if you’re the one who breaks the story? If you reveal that it was you all along, that you were in on it from the start?” I spread my hands. “Suddenly you’re not the victim. You’re the mastermind. The woman who played everyone.”
I could see the shift in her eyes. The calculation turning to interest.
“I’m putting together a response video,” I continued.
“Behind-the-scenes footage from the day we shot that scene. It’ll show you in the wig, the whole setup.
We’ll make it clear that the photos were of you kissing your own husband.
People will love that Jack only kisses you. Loyalty and all that shit.”
“And Grace comes out looking innocent,” Chantilly said flatly.
“Grace was innocent. She shouldn’t have to carry this anymore.”
Chantilly frowned. Rather, she tried. The Botox made it physically impossible. But I could see the gears turning in her head, weighing her options, calculating the potential gains against the losses. Pithy captions and all the things that made her famous.
“What if I’m the one who posts it?” she asked slowly.
“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Really?”
“You break the story. Your platform, your narrative. You control how it’s framed.
” I sat back, letting that sink in. “By the time anyone else picks it up, you’re already the hero of your own story.
The clever wife who orchestrated the whole thing for publicity.
The genius who played the media like a fiddle. ”
Jack snorted at something on his phone. Neither of us acknowledged him. It was clear we didn’t need his input. He was truly just the pretty face.
Chantilly’s lips curved into a slow smile. “I do like the sound of that.”
“You’d be the one everyone’s talking about. Not Grace. Not Jack. You.”
The smile widened. “Okay. I’m in.” She uncrossed her legs and leaned toward me. “What do I need to do?”
“I’ll have Toby put together the footage. We’ll cut it into something shareable—short, punchy, perfect for social media. All you have to do is post it with whatever caption you want. Take full credit for the idea.”
“And Grace?”
“Grace stays out of it entirely. She doesn’t comment, doesn’t post, doesn’t do anything. The story is about you. How clever you were. How you used the media’s assumptions against them.”
Chantilly nodded slowly, her eyes gleaming with something that looked almost like respect. “You know, Micah, I underestimated you. This is actually smart.”
“I have my moments.”
“When do you want to do this?”
“Tomorrow. We’ll have the video ready by morning. You post it whenever you want. Just let me know first so I can give Grace a heads-up.”
“Deal.” She extended her hand. I shook it. Her grip was surprisingly firm.
Jack looked up from his phone. “What are we dealing about?”
“Nothing, honey,” Chantilly said sweetly. “Just fixing your mess.”
“Cool.” He went back to scrolling.
I stood, ready to get the hell out of there. “I’ll text you when the video’s ready.”
“Looking forward to it.”
By this time tomorrow, Grace would finally be free of this mess.
And maybe, just maybe, we could figure out what came next.