Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
CLOVER
It’s regrettable that I need to give myself a pep talk before seeing Roman in his costume today, and yet, here we are.
You will not stare excessively at his chest.
You will not think about how insane his biceps are.
You will remember that he’s an ass.
Of course, that conjures up thoughts of Roman’s ass in the costume, and I’m devastated to confirm it looks fantastic. Fuck sakes.
When I make it onto set, Roman and our castmates are chatting over coffees with Arnold and the crew.
I walk over to the craft services table to grab myself a cream and sugar-less coffee, and hear footsteps behind me.
It’s strange how my body can sense that it’s him before I can visually confirm.
There’s something about his presence… or maybe it’s the sound of his footsteps.
Since when do I know what those sound like?
“Morning,” comes his smooth voice from behind me, sending a small shiver down my spine.
Stop it, I mentally shout at my body.
Turning around, I bring the hot coffee up to my mouth and give a gentle blow across the surface before taking a sip.
“Morning.”
“Mind if I sneak you away for a few minutes before we film?”
If this is to discuss what happened yesterday, I’m fucked.
All I could think about last night was his suggestion.
His stupid, stupid suggestion. By the time I got home from set, I was so hot and bothered I gave my vibrator the workout of its life, and still couldn’t stop thinking about him afterwards.
Unfortunately for me, it even translated into a sex dream about the devil himself. The last thing I need right now is to be having sex dreams about Roman.
“Clover?” he asks.
Right, shit.
“Uh, yeah, sure.” I pray that none of what I was thinking is visible on my face.
I think I would die a thousand deaths if Roman ever knew I got off thinking about him and me together.
It’s fine that I thought about that though, because it was a one-time thing and we won’t ever be hooking up in real life, I rationalize to myself.
It’s also fine that I came harder than I have in probably forever, but that’s neither here nor there.
Roman takes hold of my hand, and when I shoot him a questioning glare, he subtly gestures to the rest of the cast and crew, reminding me we need them to believe this ruse as well.
“I’m going to steal my girl for a minute, we’ll be right back,” he shouts toward the others. We get back a chorus of “sounds good.”
Instead of dropping my hand immediately once we’re out of view, Roman shocks me by hanging on as he leads me out toward the studio lot’s fountain.
We take a seat on the bench in front of the dazzling feature, and I close my eyes for a minute to enjoy the soothing sounds of the water splashing and dancing around.
“We have a problem,” Roman announces, breaking the peace of the moment.
“Of course we do...” I groan. “What is it?”
“People are questioning our relationship.” My eyes fly open. Of all the things he could say, I wasn’t expecting that. Immediately I run through a roster of everyone I know, and I come up empty.
“Who’s questioning it?”
“Apparently a ‘source’ has come forward to TroisToi,” he says, voice dripping with annoyance on the last word.
“Oh, shit.”
“Yeah, shit is right. Have you said anything to anyone?” His question lands like lead. Is he serious?
“You know what, now that you mention it, I’ve been telling everyone I meet because, fuck the NDA I signed. I just love the threat of being sued,” I say, sarcasm shining brightly. “Obviously, I haven’t said anything.” I correct with a hiss.
“Careful, Sparky, we don’t want anyone to think we’re fighting,” he says through a smile that doesn’t match his tone whatsoever. I place my hand on top of his and try to ignore the butterflies in my stomach.
“Of course not, sweetface.”
He frowns at the nickname. “If you didn’t say anything and I haven’t, then I’m not sure who this source is or what they’ve told TroisToi, but we need to be more careful.”
I nod in agreement.
“Have you checked your email this morning?”
“No, why?”
“We’re going to Napa Valley this weekend.”
“We who?”
“Us, Clover,” he says, gesturing between him and me.
“No,” I shake my head, pulling out my phone and nearly breaking a finger to open up the email app as quickly as possible. There’s one unread message from Roman’s publicist, it’s to Roman and me, and Anita is CC’d.
Kids, I’ve booked a weekend trip to Napa Valley for you during the scheduled few days break in filming coming up.
I’ve anonymously tipped off a few news outlets that you may be there, but we don’t have any planned photo ops or paparazzi encounters.
We think a more informal and under the radar approach to promoting you as a couple will be best for the next bit here. Attached is your itinerary. Have fun!
Warmest of Regards,
- Janine Weavers
I fight the urge to whine like a toddler. You’ve got to be kidding me. Of course, fate would force me onto a trip with my hot as hell co-star that I want to bang but also want to punch. The universe works in mysterious ways and all that.
“This would literally be the day after tomorrow, though?” I enter panic mode thinking of how few outfits I have that are suitable for vineyards and lounging around in Napa, where I may or may not be photographed by the paparazzi.
“Yeah, and I’ll pick you up at ten.” Roman stands, offering a hand to pull me up.
As we make our way back to Warehouse B, my head is swimming.
A trip? With Roman? I mean, I’ve always wanted to go to Napa Valley, but I’d always imagined it would be a girls’ trip.
Too bad I’ve had a hard time finding inroads with any women out here.
The closest thing I have to a friend right now is Maren, which is depressing.
A realization hits me as we enter the building, and I send out a quick text hoping that it’ll work out.