Page 25 of The Hollywood Switch-up

Her composure slipped—small, but impossible to miss. He’d never seen Anneliese Morgan flinch at anything.

Her eyes darted to his face—quick, searching. Looking for what? The corners of his mouth twitched. Whatever she wanted to see, she wouldn’t find it.

He advanced. The boom mic operator glanced their way, then suddenly found something fascinating on the ground. Stefan leaned down until his five o’clock shadow nearly grazed her temple.

“Don’t look so worried, Princesa.” He’d never called Anneliese that—had never wanted to give her anything, even a nickname. But the word slipped out, sharp and deliberate, a silk tie being slowly pulled from around a throat. “It’s just a movie.”

Her eyes flashed—not Anneliese’s practiced indignation. Something rawer. The muscle in her jaw jumped beneath skin too pale for someone who supposedly spent weekends on Malibu beaches.

Instead of volleying back, she looked at him like he’d struck her—and his chest twisted unexpectedly. He closed the distance.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “You seem different, Anneliese. Changed.” He let the observation hang between them. “I’m not sure I mind it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered, voice cracking on the last syllable.

“It’s a pleasure working with you . . . Anneliese.” He let her name land between them, weighted with something she couldn’t quite read.

“Likewise,” she shot back, but the word came out closer to a question than Anneliese’s usual exclamation point.

He gave her a curious smile. He’d never wasted a real one on Anneliese. “I have a feeling this is going to be a very . . . illuminating shoot.”

Stefan ducked behind the sound truck, his grin dissolving the moment he was out of sight. He pressed his back against the sun-hot metal, the wrongness of it still rattling through him. Something was wrong with Anneliese Morgan. He just couldn’t figure out what.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped:

Boss Man:

I need you to find out where Anneliese Morgan actually is right now. Not her social media. Real confirmation.

He dug his heels into the sand, pacing under the palms as cicadas screeched. His phone buzzed almost immediately.

Alex M.:

. . . you’re literally on set with her?

Boss Man:

Just do it. Quietly.

Alex M.:

Okay, now I’m concerned. Are you feeling all right? Heatstroke? Existential crisis?

Boss Man:

Alex.

Alex M.:

Fine, fine. Give me twenty-four hours. But you’re explaining this later.

Stefan stared at the ocean, the same impossible blue as her eyes. Funny. He didn’t remember them being quite that shade. And the fear behind them—that had never belonged to the Anneliese he knew.

ERIKA

Asharp, brutally cheerful rap on her villa door jolted Erika from sleep. Her eyes flew open to unfamiliar shadows on a ceiling that cost more per night than everything Anneliese covered for her in a month.

“Rise and shine, goddess! Time to awaken your inner warrior and manifest those movie-star muscles! The universe rewards the early riser!”