Chapter 9 #3
My face twists to follow the instruction immediately. I don’t have to think about that type of thing, even if I am trying to swallow down my frustration and embarrassment.
Beck’s smile is impressive, considering this is his first shoot, and he’s pretty new to Hollywood’s world of manufacturing emotions for profit. But since our faces are inches from each other, I can see the tension in the lines of his smile.
“Perfect. Just like that. Now Andromeda, press your chest against his. Keep that arch. Hands in your hair.”
It doesn’t register to me that maybe this is too far. That saying no is even an option.
Maybe if it did, I would’ve stopped in time.
But I don’t.
So I hit the pose just like I have all the other poses I’ve been instructed to hit.
Click, click, click.
But along with the clicks of the camera, there’s a string of muttered curses that carries through the air.
Beck lets out a soft noise of shock, standing abruptly. His eyes are locked on something on the other side of the room.
I’m sent sprawling onto the floor, my ass hitting the ground hard, topless in front of the entire room.
Click, click, click.
Fuck Stephan.
Those photos better get fucking deleted.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” Beck mumbles, running a hand through his hair, his gaze wild and panicked. I’m pretty sure I hear the gasp of the stylist who did it.
I curl into a ball on the floor, wrapping my arms around my bare chest just in time to see Eli’s broad back disappearing behind a closing door.
Beck is quick to follow him without a backward glance at me.
Under the bright studio lights, I feel like all my cracks and broken pieces are laid bare for everyone to see.
“Oh? Well, I guess we can take a break from the shoot,” Stephan says, lowering his camera.
“What the fuck was that?” Stuart hisses, looming over my curled-up form.
If he were a good manager, he’d get me a robe or something—considering I have no clue where my bra or t-shirt disappeared to—instead of leaving me like this. But he’s not a good manager. At least not to me.
I shrug my shoulders, trying to focus on my breathing so I don’t burst into tears. I’m sure the makeup artists would be far less forgiving if I ruined my makeup with tears than they’d be of Beck messing with his hair. He is the star, out of the two of us, after all.
My head bows as I try to create a curtain of my hair between me and the rest of the room.
“What in the world could you have done to make the omega run out like that?” Stuart scolds. “Your mother won’t like hearing about this. You better figure out a way to fix things when he comes back, or else you’re going to regret—”
“Excuse me.” Leo’s voice has me jerking my head up. He walks up to us in a way that requires Stuart to move out of the way, holding out a black silk robe. For me. “Sorry it took me so long to grab this, I had to run to the makeup room.”
His eyes narrow as they cut to Stuart, whose cheeks have flushed with embarrassment. I bet he’s wondering how much Leo heard.
A lot, if his glare is any indication.
“Thank you,” I whisper, offering him a wobbly smile as he drapes the robe across my shoulders.
I hurry to put it on, tying it at my waist.
“If you’ll excuse us, I’d like to talk to Andi,” Leo says, nodding at Stuart. Before the older beta has a chance to protest, Leo is already leading me to a quieter, darker part of the room.
“Is that sort of thing normal?” he asks, his jaw working as his eyes scan the room, seemingly to catalogue the faces of everyone working on the set today.
“Not exactly, no,” I mumble. “But it’s not the first time. It’s kind of par for the course.”
“Well, it shouldn’t be.” He says the words with such devotion. Like they’re obvious in his worldview. It makes my heart squeeze in my chest.
“Thank you for helping me, by the way. I seriously appreciate it.”
“Of course.” He nods.
I’m struck by how handsome he is. All three of them are ridiculously attractive, but in different ways. Beck has a sort of ethereal beauty that makes me want to just stare at his face all day—almost like a painting. And for every bit of Eli’s dickishness, is double the amount of rugged hotness.
Leo, on the other hand? He’s classically handsome. Magazine model kind of handsome. All of his features are sharp. His jaw, his eyes, the slash of his lips—set in a frown.
As the silence between us grows, my gaze is drawn to the door Elijah and Beck disappeared through.
“Don’t,” Leo murmurs, noticing where I’m staring. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“You know, I’ve never been good at listening to people when they tell me not to do things.”
“I find that suspect, considering how you seemed to follow ridiculous instructions back there,” Leo huffs, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the set, lit by a halo of studio lights.
I wince at his words, biting the inside of my cheek.
“You know what? Now I’m actually going to go see what they’re up to,” I huff, cinching the tie of my robe tighter as I start marching towards the door.
Leo follows me like my shadow. And even though a part of me is pissed off—not necessarily at Leo specifically, probably at this whole situation—I find a little comfort that I’m not alone.