Page 16 of The Hollywood Switch-up

“Stefan? Are you there?”

He closed his eyes. A golden ticket to hell.

Erika’s furious face at the hospital. “. . . she’s probably going to lose the contract for Love in Paradise! The biggest role of her career!”

Her words sat there. Without a leading man, the project would collapse. Anneliese would lose the role.

There had to be someone else. He ran through names—actors who could step in on two days’ notice without losing their minds. But anyone with half a brain knew better than to sign onto a Martin Blackwell production on two days’ notice. Mierda.

The guilt churned. This was his fault. And Martin on set with Anneliese—public bravado, no experience with men like that—it was Stasia all over again. He could see exactly how it went. If he took the part, he was the only person who knew what Martin was and could actually do something about it. The thought of Erika’s face, the fury in the hospital corridor, pulled at something else entirely.

Somewhere, his Tita was shaking her head. Siempre el héroe, mijo. Even when it costs you.

“I can hear you breathing.”

“Tell them I’m in.”

Before she could reply, he ended the call and dialed Alex.

“Tell me you’re not doing something stupid,” Alex said by way of greeting.

“Call the pilot. Jet prepped and fueled. Wheels up in three hours.”

A pause. “Where are we going?”

“The Bahamas.”

“The Bahamas,” Alex repeated slowly. “Where Martin Blackwell is currently shooting. The director you swore you’d never work with again. That Bahamas?”

Exactamente. “That’s the one.”

“And you need wheels up in three hours because . . . ?”

“I took the job.”

Silence. Stefan could picture him—loss for words, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“You took the—Stefan, what the fuck?”

“Get me the bungalow next to Anneliese Morgan’s. I don’t care what it costs. Tell them it’s a security issue if you have to.”

“You hate Anneliese Morgan.”

“I know.” And her sister won’t leave my head. Fantastic.

Another pause, longer this time. Stefan could practically hear Alex recalibrating. “Bags?”

“Beach wear. A couple of suits. Workout gear. Everything for a long stay.”

“Script and pre-production schedule to your tablet.” Alex’s voice shifted into logistics mode. The we’re talking about this later was implied. “Anything else?”

“Let Sarah know I’ll handle Martin Blackwell myself.”

“Handle.” Alex let the word sit. “That’s a loaded verb.”

Stefan didn’t smile back. “It’s meant to be.”

ERIKA