Page 63 of The Hollywood Switch-up

She shoved the phone in her pocket. The production trailers were ahead, half-obscured by the downpour. She was ten feet away when Martin stepped out from between them.

“Anneliese.” His voice cut through the wind. “Just the person I wanted to see.”

Erika stopped. He moved toward her, unhurried despite the storm plastering his linen shirt to his chest. The way he walked made the hair rise on the back of her neck. By the time she thought to move, he was already in front of her. Blocking the path to the trailers.

“You look exhausted.” He tilted his head, studying her face. “This pace isn’t for everyone.”

“I’m managing.” She tried to step around him. He shifted, casual as a dance partner, and she was blocked again.

“Are you?” His smile didn’t waver. “Your performance yesterday, it was off. Flat. Word got back to the studio. Isabelle's already asking questions.” He let that land. “She’s not here for the budget, you know. She’s here because corporate is nervous. About the film. About you.”

He stepped closer. She stepped back and felt cold metal against her shoulder blades. Cornered.

“I appreciate that.” Her voice came out thin. “But I should get to the dock. The ferry⁠—”

“You’ve been distracted.” He kept talking like she hadn’t spoken. “Ever since Stefan Cruz decided to take you under his wing. Playing the mentor. The protector.” His lips curled. “It’s very noble. Very . . . Stefan.”

“I really need to go.”

Martin planted his hand on the equipment case beside her head, leaning in. Not touching her. Caging her with his body.

“Stefan Cruz.” He said the name as if he were tasting it. “Is getting close to him part of the job? Or extracurricular?”

The noise of the set dissolved.

“The way he looks at you. The way you look for him every time you walk on set.” Martin’s voice dropped. “It’s sweet. Really. But your protector has his own interests. His own history.” He tilted his head. “You’ve seen him with Isabelle, haven’t you? Old friends. Very old friends.”

She couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe.

“He’s not saving you, Anneliese. He’s using you to get back in her good graces.”

“Miss Morgan?”

The voice came from behind Martin. Lena stood a few feet away, clipboard held over her head. Her eyes darted between Erika and Martin, reading the scene.

“Lily’s losing her mind. Something about the ferry?” Lena’s voice pitched up at the end, making it an out. “She said the ferry leaves in five minutes.”

Martin straightened. Stepped back. His jaw unclenched. His eyes warmed.

“By all means.” He swept his arm toward Lena like he was granting permission. “Far be it from me to stand between a woman and her ferry.”

She was halfway to Lena before she caught up to herself. Her hands were shaking. Her whole body was shaking.

Lena fell into step beside her, close enough that their shoulders touched. “That looked intense,” she said, low. “You okay?”

“Fine.” The word stuck. “Thanks for the rescue.”

“Wasn’t a rescue. Lily really is freaking out.” But Lena’s sideways glance said she knew exactly what she’d walked into.

Behind them, Martin’s voice carried over the wind. “Don’t be a stranger, Anneliese. You know where to find me.”

Erika’s skin crawled. She didn’t look back. Lena walked her halfway to the dock before peeling off toward the equipment tents.

“Gotta help secure the cameras. Are you good from here?”

“Yeah. Go. I’m fine.”

She wasn’t, though. The way he’d said old friends like he was handing her a lit match. The way he’d watched her face for the moment it landed.