Chapter 13
Aaron was pulling on his shoes when there was a light wrap on his trailer door.
“Come in,” he yelled.
He glanced up to see Camille standing in the doorway pulling the door close behind her.
She was stunning in her costume with her hair flowing down her shoulders.
He stood and embraced her as she hurried into his arms.
They hugged intimately for a minute then they pulled back.
“Hey, you,” he said smiling down at her.
“Hey, you,” she responded, eyes shining with happiness.
“Are you ready for our next scene?’
“Are you kidding? I was born ready.”
He laughed. “That’s the attitude I want in my actresses.”
They had met early that morning before the cast arrived to cover chapter six of the book of Esther since they weren’t able to do so the previous night.
“I just wanted to check again to remember what you told me this morning about how Esther will be interacting with Haman. You said in this scene she is…”
Aaron studied her for a moment instead of answering, his hands resting lightly at her waist as if he’d forgotten they were there. Then he smiled—slow, thoughtful.
“She’s intentional,” he said. “Not cautious. Not afraid. Intentional.”
Camille tilted her head, listening.
“In the first banquet,” he continued, “Esther isn’t there to strike. She’s there to set the board. Everything she does says, I belong here. I’m unthreatened. I have time.”
Camille’s lips curved. “So—no nerves.”
“No visible ones,” Aaron corrected. “The tension stays inside. You let it live behind your eyes. You watch Haman more than you engage him. Show him just enough warmth to make him feel chosen.”
She nodded slowly, absorbing it. “And with you?” she asked softly.
Aaron’s gaze sharpened—not as director now, but as the man who would step into Xerxes.
“With the king,” he said, lowering his voice, “you’re calm because you already know you have him. You don’t push. You don’t plead. You invite.”
Camille stepped back half a pace, testing the posture. Her shoulders settled, spine tall, chin lifted. Stillness replaced motion.
“Like this?” she asked.
Aaron watched her transform, admiration flickering across his face. “Exactly like that. You don’t reach for him. You let him lean toward you.”
She took a breath, then let it out slowly. When she looked at him again, her eyes were different—quiet, knowing.
“So when I ask for the second banquet…” she said.
“You pause,” he finished. “You smile. And you make it feel inevitable.”
Camille smiled then—not playful, not flirtatious. Assured.
“Poor Haman,” she murmured.
Aaron laughed under his breath. “He has no idea.”
~*~*~*~
Under the soft glow of the banquet hall, Camille’s Esther moved like water—unhurried, composed. She entered already at ease, already queen.
When her eyes passed over Haman, played by Yves Hutton, they lingered just long enough to acknowledge him—no more. Polite warmth. Measured grace. He straightened, preened, drank it in.
But it was with Xerxes that the current ran deeper.
She didn’t cling to him. She didn’t shrink either. When she spoke, her voice was warm and firm, each word chosen. When she listened, she let silence work for her.
Aaron felt it as Xerxes first—and then as himself.
She didn’t rush the moment when he offered her anything she desired. She let it hang. Let him feel generous.
And when she finally spoke, asking them both to return the next day, her smile was gentle, almost casual.
As if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Haman beamed.
Xerxes leaned forward, already captivated.
And beneath the silk and ceremony, Esther held her ground—unmoved, unexposed, utterly in control.
“Cut.”
Aaron didn’t speak right away. He just looked at her.
“That,” he said finally, quiet but certain, “is exactly it.”
Camille exhaled, the tension she’d been holding finally loosening. “I could feel him leaning in,” she said. “Both of you.”
Aaron smiled, something warm and unmistakable passing between them. “That’s Esther,” he said. “She doesn’t chase power. She lets it come to her.”
Their eyes met—collaborators, partners, the story humming between them.
~*~*~*~
The day ended without ceremony.
Camille was removing her crown when Aaron stopped by her trailer. He didn’t come in—just leaned against the frame, arms folded, watching her.
“You changed the pause,” he said.
She glanced up. “Too long?”
“No,” he replied. “It worked.”
She studied his face, searching for the director’s verdict, but found instead the actor’s gratitude.
“I felt you adjust with me,” she said, almost shy.
He nodded, a faint smile touching his mouth. “Yeah. It felt natural. See you tomorrow.”
That was it. No linger. No hug.
But later, alone, Camille realized she replayed the moment in her head—not the scene, but the way he had looked at her like she was his woman and he was pleased with her.
~*~*~*~
End of week fatigue set in, sharpened by the call from her lawyer.
Camille ducked into the shadowed end of the soundstage, phone pressed to her ear, eyes fixed on the tape marking her next scene.
“Camille,” James said, clipped but careful. “I want you to hear this from me before it shows up anywhere else.”
She leaned against a lighting cart. “Okay.”
“Halden’s legal team is filing the suit this afternoon. As expected. But they’re also seeking injunctive relief.”
“What is that? Injunctive relief, what’s that?”
“They’re asking the court to temporarily restrict your participation in Esther pending resolution.”
“Restrict how?”
“Best case, it’s symbolic.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you’re already making the film so they could just be asking that the film’s release be stayed. It means that you will shoot the film but it won’t be released.”
“How is this best case? If this is best case what’s worse case?”
“Worst case, they argue for both a stay on the release along with a pause on principal photography or promotion involving you. Which essentially kills any promotion of the film because you are the main character. It’s aggressive, but not uncommon.”
“Will it work? Do you think the court will agree to that?”
“I don’t think so,” he said immediately. “But it puts pressure on the studio. And if the studio sees you as a liability, they may consider it easier to cut ties with you.”
A personal assistant jogged past Camille, oblivious to her growing turmoil.
“They’re framing it as irreparable harm,” he continued. “Cascading losses. Contracts. Relationships. They want leverage.”
Camille closed her eyes.
“What do I do?”
“For now? Nothing. You show up and play the role. You don’t comment publicly. You don’t text anyone about this except me.” A beat. “And don’t let this make you do anything rash. Let it play out. See where it goes.”
She almost laughed. Let it play out? Her career was on the line. Her relationship with Aaron was on the line. And he was advising her to see where it went.
“Filings hit the docket by three.”
After the call ended, Camille stayed there for a moment, phone still in her hand. Then she straightened, took one shallow breath, and stepped back into the light.
She rushed a line in rehearsal—twice.
Aaron called cut.
He didn’t correct her in front of anyone. He waited until they were alone by the monitors.
“What’s going on?” he asked gently.
“I got a call from my lawyer,” she began, then stopped and took a seat on the stage steps.
“What did he want?”
She hesitated. James had warned her not to talk.
She forced a light smile. “Just stuff with Simon’s lawsuit.”
Aaron lowered himself onto the stage steps beside her. “How bad?”
“Progressing,” she said. “I guess.”
“Do you think he’ll win?”
“I hope not.”
“What’s your argument?”
She uncapped her water and took a sip, watching him over the rim. “He says my leaving caused losses. I’m arguing that staying would’ve broken me.”
“Is that true? You told me you left because the show didn’t align with your faith,” he said.
She gave him a look. “That’s also true.”
“Then why not lead with that?”
“My lawyer thinks the emotional angle carries more weight.”
Aaron’s mouth curved slightly. “Is he a Christian?”
She laughed. “No.”
“Then of course he’s focused on winning. But you should be focused on honoring God with the truth.”
She rubbed her face, rolled her shoulders.
He noticed immediately. “You okay?”
“My shoulders are stiff.”
He got up and sat behind her. “Here let me.”
~*~*~*~
Camille swung her dark curtain of hair over one shoulder to allow him access.
His hands landed on that soft smooth skin at her shoulder and he began to knead.
“You’re tight.” He said softly. As he kneaded a particular ball and found it eventually giving way to his firm movements.
He got a whiff of her perfume or maybe it was the shampoo in her hair.
Regardless she smelled wonderful, and felt so good under the pads of her fingers.
It was suddenly like a sensual overload.
When Camille released a moan it almost unhinged him and he could feel his body tighten in response.
His hand continued to glide, to knead, to massage and he could feel the tightness smooth and ebb away under his touch.
It was rewarding. She felt so warm and good.
Conversation ceased as he focused on his task and she relaxed in his arms. The only sounds she made were soft moans.
She allowed her head to fall back into his chest. “That feels good.”
He smiled and continued until he realized that people were casting furtive glances their way. He stilled his hands and then, giving her a final squeeze, returned to sit beside her.
“Why’d you stop?” she complained with a cute pout.
He jutted his chin to the crew and cast nearby. “Them. I don’t need another lecture from Ray.”
She groaned. “I can’t believe he actually scolded you because we have chemistry. That’s every producer’s dream.”
Aaron chuckled as he worked at getting his body temperature back under control. “I don’t think it’s the onscreen chemistry he’s worried about.”
She gave him a naughty grin. “The off screen chemistry is none of his business.”
“Camille,” he warned. “We agreed to keep this contained until filming wraps up. You don’t need to be embroiled in another media storm.”
She bit her lip and glanced away. “You’re right.”
“So, back to the lawsuit. Do you agree with me that you should be honest about your real reason for leaving Shadow Peak?”
“Aaron, the emotional trauma was a part of it.”
“I’m not saying it wasn’t but the impression you gave me was that it wasn’t the main reason.”
She was silent for a moment and then she sighed. “Okay, I’ll speak to my lawyer.”
“Good,” he got to his feet and then held out his hand to her. “Come Queen Esther, you have some work to do.”
“Work?” she came to stand inches from him.
“You know, charming the pants off Xerses and entrapping Haman.”
“Well, I’ve been working on the first part.” She whispered near his ear.
Aaron inhaled deeply of her and then cleared his throat. “You’ve succeeded. I’m definitely ready to give you up to half my kingdom.”
~*~*~*~
By the second banquet, the air between them was unmistakable.
Esther finally spoke. Aaron could barely breathe while watching her, as Xerses and as himself.
Later, he found her outside, preparing to leave. He took a quick look around. They were alone for the moment.
“You were amazing,” he said.
She turned. “Because you didn’t rush me. You allowed me to be Esther.”
They stood there, night settling around them.
Then the pull sharpened.
Aaron was the one who moved first. One step forward. And she was in his arms.
His mouth covered hers. She sunk into him opening her mouth to receive him. They kissed deeply, sensuously, until he knew that he had to break things off.
Chests heaving, they stared at each other. He caressed her face. Drinking in the sight of her. He wanted to say more. But no words were needed. They could feel the energy. What they felt about each other was clear.
“See you tomorrow for Bible study,” Camille finally said with a slow kiss on his jaw before stepping away.
Aaron watched her go and knew that the warmth he felt in his chest had a name.
~*~*~*~
That evening, the warm glow of the dining room light cast a cozy ambiance as Aaron sat down to dinner with his brother Adam and Madison.
The air was filled with her cheerful chatter about her day at preschool, her little hands animatedly gesturing as she recounted the adventures of her friends and the art project that had turned her fingers into a rainbow of colors.
After dinner, Adam helped Aaron clear the table, their laughter mingling with Madison's giggles as she playfully tried to help. Once the dishes were stacked in the dishwasher, Aaron tucked Madison into bed, reading her a story until her eyelids grew heavy and she drifted off to sleep.
Back in the living room, Aaron and Adam settled down with steaming cups of tea, the comforting aroma filling the air.
As they sat in the quiet, Aaron's gaze drifted to the wedding band resting on his finger, a palpable reminder of Scarlett.
With a deep breath, he slipped the ring off and placed it on the table between them.
Adam’s eyes widened in surprise. “You haven’t taken that off since… since Scarlett,” he said, his voice a mix of shock and concern. “What does this mean?”
Aaron leaned back, his expression contemplative.
“I always told myself I wouldn’t take it off because I didn’t want to remarry.
I thought it would dishonor her memory.” He paused, the weight of his words hanging in the air.
“But lately, I’ve been feeling… different.
Like maybe it’s time to let go of the past in a way. ”
Adam studied him. “Is it Camille who’s causing this change of heart?”
Aaron nodded slowly, a small smile breaking through his somber demeanor. “Yeah, it is.”
Adam’s expression shifted to one of caution. “I know I’ve teased you about her, Aaron, but I’ve got to tell you, there have been some rumors. About her tendency to get involved with the men she works with.”
Aaron shook his head firmly. “I discussed that with her. Those rumors are exaggerated. There’s nothing to worry about. I’ve seen her heart, Adam. I trust her.”
Adam sipped his tea thoughtfully. “I know that you have good judgment but just pray about this, okay?”
“I have,” Aaron assured him, leaning forward slightly. “I’m not going into this blindly. I’ve observed her over the last couple months. I’ve seen her character. I’ve seen her sincerity as a Christian. I believe that she may be the one.”
Adam nodded, though the concern lingered in his eyes. “It’s okay to move forward. Scarlett wouldn’t want you to be alone forever. But take your time. This is a big step.”
Aaron glanced at the wedding band, then back at his brother. “I think I’m ready for that step.”
As they sat in the soft glow of the living room, the weight of the past began to lift, replaced by a sense of hope for the future.