Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
As I listen to her read the lines, I want to burn with her.
“You say you want me, but I haven’t seen any proof of it.” She peers under her lashes at Randle.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I have to clasp my hands behind my back because I’m filled with the urge to strike Randle down and not because he was an asshole earlier but because she’s looking at him like she wants to eat him up. Fuck. That should be me. Instead of learning how to fire a gun, read crowds, do profiles, I should’ve studied acting. Then I would have the privilege of being the object of that hot-ass look.
“I’ll do whatever you want. Just point me in the right direction.” Randle is not an actor. There’s not an ounce of believability in his lines.
Sadie runs a hand across her neck. My knees tremble. “That necklace of your mother’s…that belonged to my mother. I want it back.”
“The blue diamond? That’s her favorite. Let me give you something else. The Tiffany pearls would look beautiful on you.”
Sadie turns to the side, and I can only see her profile now. It’s still the most beautiful thing in the room.
“If you aren’t willing to do what I ask, simply say that, and I won't seek you out again.”
“I…Let me think about it.”
What a loser. He’s choosing his mother over Sadie? Just give her the damned necklace.
She shrugs and takes a seat. The side of her dress slides down far enough that you can see a hint of the ball of her shoulder. It’s one of the most erotic things I’ve ever seen. Sweat starts to bead across my forehead. Not popping a woody is taking every ounce of energy I’ve got.
“You know where to find me.”
Randle slaps his script against his hand. “Let’s move on to page 70.”
I shake my head and tell myself to pay attention. I’m hired to protect Sadie, not to fuck her.
“Seventy?” She flips the script. “The love scene?”
“Yeah. You haven’t done one before, and I want to see how comfortable you are in these settings. I once had an actress freeze up on me because she couldn’t have some guy between her legs on camera. You’re not going to have a problem with that, right?”
Oh fuck. I crack my knuckles. She might not have a problem, but I will.
Chapter Three
Sadie
The words on the page all start to blur together when I realize what he’s suggesting. Why the heck did I agree to this audition? I shouldn’t even be asking myself that question since I already know the answer. Everyone has been pushing me to expand my horizons. To be honest, I’m content in my romcom bubble. Since my mom is no longer in my life, I’m starting to wonder if acting is even something I want to do. It’s all I’ve ever known. There have never been any other options for me.
“With you?” My words squeak out. I wish when I wasn't on set I could still pretend and act like I’m not actually some shy goofball who is definitely a prude. My eyes glance over to Locke. That fear I’ve been feeling when I first got to Randle’s room is gone because of him, but now I’m feeling a bit awkward knowing he’s watching me. I can’t help but wonder what he is thinking.
His stance is relaxed as he stands there, his expression unreadable. Except for his hands. The sound of his knuckles cracking echoes in the room.
“Yes, with me.” Randle sits up straighter, glancing over at Locke from the corner of his eyes.
“Sure,” I force past my lips, causing the room to grow silent again. My stomach is in knots thinking about playing out any scene with Randle.
“Good.” Randle hops up. “We should move this to the bed.” He starts to lead the way, not waiting for me to agree to us going into the bedroom. My stomach is in knots thinking about playing out any scene with Randle. Especially one in a bedroom. I take a deep breath. I can do this. No big deal. Besides, Locke is here. He’s clearly not going to let anything bad happen to me. I glance over toward Locke, whose eyes meet mine.
“No,” Locke says, pulling out his phone and making a few clicks on it. “Something has come up. It’s time for Miss Monroe to leave.” He takes a step my way, offering me his hand to take. Relief like I’ve never felt before fills me. I swear I want to throw my arms around Locke in gratitude, but I don’t.
“Are you serious?” Randle spins back around.
“I’m sorry,” I tell Randle. “I’ll understand if you decide I’m not a fit for the part.” Randle’s brows lift in surprise. I wait for some kind of panic to hit me, but it doesn’t. I’m pretty much tossing the part out the window and maybe a lot of others. Randle knows a lot of people in Hollywood, and word tends to get around quickly. Who knows what he might say to them? But I don’t really care. I take Locke's hand, wanting out of this hotel suite.