“Now the monologue.”
Reese clears her throat. “They’ve underestimated me my whole life. While our king indulges in opulent feasts behind his fortified walls, our children languish in destitution. No more.” Her fist meets the table. “They forget, true power lives in the people. And we will have our justice, whatever the cost.”
“Good,” Felix says, “but let’s make the dialogue more accessible. Peasant women wouldn’t use such fancy words. Keep it authentic.” Reese’s knuckles whiten around her pen as she marks through her lines. “And add some tears. You know, to soften up Robyn’s edges and make her someone worth rooting for.”
Reese’s mechanical obedience while defiance smolders behind her eyes makes my blood sing with recognition. This hasbeen happening throughout the entire table read. Reese will say her line, and Felix will have notes.
But this time, instead of replying,Of course, Felix, how high do you want me to jump, she says, “I’ll work on incorporating those elements, but maybe instead of crying—”
“Trust me,” Felix interrupts with a wave of his hand, “it’ll play better.”
Sexist prick.
“You’re right,” she says, clipped and perfect.
“Okay, next scene with the king,” Felix says.
Omar starts, and Reese slumps back into her seat, reorganizing her pens and colored markers in front of her. A perfectly manicured pink finger curls around the ends of her hair. She catches me watching and raises an eyebrow.
“Have you lost your page again?” she whispers.
“Your performance. I’m a bit lost for words.”
“Yeah…lost for words,” she says sarcastically. I’m so fucking embarrassed that she saw me stumbling over myself, but I won’t let her see.
I throw on my charm, changing the subject. “You know,” I say, “last I checked, thieves aren’t exactly known for their waterworks. Just saying.”
Without looking at me, and with the room distracted by the king and his men plotting to take more taxes from the town, she says, “We’re in the hands of one of the most successful action directors in the industry.” Interestingly, she’s neither disagreeing nor agreeing with me. “Now please pipe down; you’re going to get us in trouble.”
“Rule follower, huh?”
She glares at me again. So fucking gorgeous.
“Pay attention, Mr. Hastings.”
“Please,” I flash the smile that’s gotten me out of trouble more times than I can count, “call me Dante.”
She regards me one final time before turning away.
Maybe it’s the competitive instinct, but I can’t seem to let her go.
In Saber, the point goes to whoever attacks first.
Always press the advantage.
This just became a game, and now I need to figure out what riddle she’s spinning. And I’ve never been able to resist turning the tables on an overconfident opponent.
After the table read wraps, I head to my meeting with the stunt team. As we file out, the head PA stops us. “One more thing—cabin assignments will be emailed shortly. Supporting cast and crew will share cabins with two others.”
The thought of Reese as a potential roommate makes the corners of my mouth twitch.
“Shooting starts the Monday after next. We’ll film Monday to Saturday, Sundays off. Check your email for weekly schedules. Fight scenes are on Thursdays and Fridays—longer days, so plan accordingly.” The head PA scans the room. “Questions?”
No one raises a hand. Before I head over to the stunt team meeting, I should corner the production team about my cabin situation. And Friday shoots? They’ll have to work around my training schedule and whatever charity circuit Lev has planned for me. I start to make my way over, but Reese breezes past, all dangerous curves wrapped in denim with her perfume lingering in the air.
On second thought, I’ll let Todd handle the scheduling details. And the stunt team can wait a few more minutes.
I match her stride. She’s shorter than I thought; her head barely reaches my shoulder. Must be about five-four, though her PR team lists her as five-six online.
