Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE NEPO BABY IS GETTING LOCKED IN FOR HIS NEXT ROLE. HOPEFULLY, IT’S WORTH IT
GREER
I’m going to quit.
I wasn’t even sure what I was quitting at that point.
My job with Tripp.
College.
Being my mother’s daughter.
Life as Greer Moore.
Any of it. All of it.
The idea of changing my name before fleeing into the darkness sounded more and more appealing as the night went on.
I could run away and join the circus.
I bet they don’t require five years’ experience for an entry-level position.
I shook my head at my own thoughts. I had zero acrobatic talent and clowns freaked me the fuck out.
“I’m okay, Mom,” I repeated for the millionth time in that short phone call.
“I know you think that you're okay, but our subconscious stresses can manifest in lots of ways. Are you sleeping okay?”
No, because none of my stress is subconscious.
“Yup,” I lied.
“Good. I worry about you.”
The stream of loving annoyance I had toward my mom for her hovering quickly turned into a river of guilt. It wasn’t her fault that I had an unlimited pass to the struggle bus. Taking it out on her was unfair.
“There’s no reason to worry. Promise. Tell me what you’ve been up to.”
She mostly shared about restaurants she’d visited with the other OGs.
I could imagine there were a lot of lawyer visits interspersed, but she didn’t talk about those.
Nor did she mention any social events or volunteer boards.
I also didn’t ask. I was willing to bet that if she’d received any invites, she hadn’t accepted them.
It wasn’t just her marriage that’d been flipped. Her entire life had to be so drastically different than just a couple of months before.
We talked for a little longer while I let her fuss over me before hanging up.
I scanned the notes that were spread across my coffee table. I found my spot and tried to piece together some semblance of a cohesive idea. Just as an inkling of something began to form, my vibrating phone rattled on the table, and I lost it again.
I snatched it up to silence it completely—emergencies be damned. Unsurprisingly, it was more texts from my boss.
TC: You can’t ignore me.
TC: I’ll leave and come see you.
I rolled my eyes, wondering what his deal was.
As far as I knew, the first three days of readthrough for Tripp’s upcoming movie had gone fine.
Disappointingly, I’d only been able to attend the first day, but those few hours had been incredible.
Especially since I hadn’t been strictly an observer, relegated to the perimeter or lobby with the other assistants.
Tripp had parked my ass in a chair behind him and often leaned back to ask my opinion.
I loved movies. Maybe not to the same level as Maddie, but they’d been a big part of my childhood, too. Getting that glimpse behind the magical curtain had been far more exciting than I’d anticipated.
Unfortunately, it was the one glimpse I got. My class schedule and the other two days of readthrough had overlapped. Tripp and I had texted frequently, though, and from all accounts, everything was good.
No. It was better than good. There was a spark in him that grew while he worked. Like he knew he was living his purpose.
For whatever reason, that happiness disappeared when it came to attending the director’s birthday dinner with the rest of the cast. I had no clue why.
If it weren’t for the immense amount of work I had stressing me out, I would’ve happily taken him up on his invition to an open bar and free food at an upscale restaurant.
It was better than the soggy leftover salad and borderline stale tortilla chips I’d hurriedly shoveled in my face while standing in my kitchen.
Rereading his threat to leave, I quickly typed out a message.
Me: Don’t you dare.
TC: Then come here.
Me: I can’t.
TC: There’s tofu. Only kinda looks like a sponge.
Me: Tempting, but I can’t. I will see you Saturday.
TC: Okay, I’ll bring the tofu to you. See you in 30.
Me: You can’t ditch out on your new director’s birthday party.
TC: No one will notice.
I was far from an expert in the business, and even I knew that wasn’t true. Just like I knew for a fact that it would be a bad career move to slight his director before filming even started.
Me: If you’re bored, I’m sure there are plenty of pretty starlets who would love to chat.
My finger hovered over the send button, but I couldn’t press it.
It’s unprofessional. That’s all.
I revised the message.
Me: If you’re bored, talk to your new castmates. Consider it role research.
TC: I’m not bored.
Me: Great, then enjoy your night, boss.
Undeterred, he didn’t take the subtle hint.
TC: I prefer Sir.
I’m never going to live that joke down.
TC: And I will enjoy my night once I get there. You want anything other than sponge—I mean, tofu?
Me: No!
TC: Okay, just the tofu then.
Me: No! I mean, no, you can’t come here.
I expected an immediate response, but as I stared down at my phone, nothing came through.
Good. He gave up.
I tried to refocus on my work, but all the words blended together until nothing made sense.
Why am I disappointed that he gave up?
Or maybe he didn’t give up, and he’s on his way here with pilfered tofu.
I glanced down at my oversized sleep shirt and ratty shorts that were far from flattering.
Professionally speaking.
I didn’t care if I looked good or not.
And I kept telling myself that as I scrambled up and sprinted through my apartment.
Ringing cut off my mad dash, and my socked feet slid across the floor as I abruptly stopped in the hallway before backtracking to answer it.
I assumed it was Tripp with more threats to leave.
Ones I would try to talk him down from. That didn’t stop a weird mix of anticipation and dismay from bubbling through my veins.
I grabbed my phone.
And then all those millions of effervescent bubbles turned to heavy lead balls of dread.
Nope.
Not Tripp.
I silenced the call that I did not want to deal with just to see there was a waiting text from my boss.
TC: Would I be interrupting something if I did?
I looked at the chaos around me that I’d made worse in my frantic rush since there were now notes on the floor as well as the table. Chaos that I hadn’t been making headway on—even without his disruptions.
It didn’t make sense. He should’ve been having the time of his life, not texting me.
Something must be wrong.
And isn’t it my job as his assistant to fix that?
I was hovering on the edge of changing my mind and accepting the terms of his threat when he made the decision for me.
TC: Either you come here, or I’m coming there.
Me: Neither, boss.
That was what I should’ve said. That was what the stubborn part of me demanded I say. Actually, it wanted me to send my own offer inviting him to go to hell, but I was a professional. My finger hovered over the send button, but I again couldn’t force myself to touch it.
And that was before he added another message.
TC: Please.
I let out a resigned sigh before changing the message.
Me: Send me the address.
Tripp
Holy shit, she showed.
And holy fucking shit, she looks...
Fuck.
Greer was always a cock tease and a wet dream rolled into one, but especially right then.
In a short black dress, her legs were on display, but the rest of her was hidden beneath the high neckline and long sleeves.
It might not have shown much skin, but the tight fit showed off her body.
It was enough to make every motherfucker in the place wish he was the lucky bastard who would get to slowly strip her out of the dress to see what she was teasing us with.
Me included.
Her light brown hair wasn’t tied back the way she usually wore it. Hanging free, it was much longer than I realized, and my fingers itched to spear into it. Or wrap the length around my hand to control her head.
Control her.
Her makeup was light, but whatever she’d done to her eyes made them look greener. It hadn’t been long since she’d agreed to come, and I had no damn clue how she could look so incredible on such short notice. It made me wonder what she’d been doing before I interrupted.
And who she’d been doing it with.
I watched as she paused in the entryway and tucked her hair behind her ear as she scanned the full room.
The restaurant had been closed to the public for Alessandro Russo’s birthday, and the place was packed with other famous assholes like me.
Far more famous ones, actually. Her gaze never paused on any of them.
She didn’t smile or approach or wait to be approached—and it wouldn’t have been a long wait. She didn’t even seem to notice them.
She was focused on finding me, and my already hardened dick jerked where it was stretched painfully down my thigh.
I turned away long enough to discreetly adjust myself before moving toward her. Her gaze landed on me, and I waited for a smile.
One that never came.
But she also didn’t immediately turn to leave, so I took the win. It became a bigger one when she started walking to meet me halfway, oblivious to the way the other men stared at her.
The way I stared at her.
When we reached each other, she didn’t stop until her body was nearly touching mine. It was closer than I expected her to get, but it wasn’t as close as I wanted her.
As I needed her.
Her full lips curved into a fuckable pout as she looked down at the glass I forgot I held, and I tried to pass it to her.
“What is it?” she asked.
Most of my birthday night was a blur, but not any of the parts to do with the siren from the roof—including her drink order. “Tequila, club soda, and lime.”
She finally smiled—a small one, but I would take it. “Presumptuous that I would show.”
“Confident.”
She still didn’t accept the glass as she studied me. She kept her voice low so nearby ears couldn’t hear.
And they were listening.
“You okay?” she whispered.
“Yeah, why?”
“Your texts made it sound like you were being tortured.”
“I was.”
“What’s wrong?”
“You weren’t here.”