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“Cut! Brilliant.” Director Zane came over to us as I lifted my bra and sleeve back up. Noah extended his hand for me but I refused it—I couldn’t touch him right now. My body was still hot and shaking. “I’m not sure what happened yesterday. But, your performance today was amazing. Just a few small notes, Amelia. I need you to try and make more eye contact with us. As for you, Noah, right now your improvising is great, but keep it to a minimum, if you know what I mean.”
They stared each other down for a moment before Noah simply nodded.
“All right, everyone,” Zane said, turning back to the crew. “We’ll break for two hours before bringing in the extra for the street run.”
When Zane was gone, Noah faced me. “We didn’t get a chance to talk this morning, when you came in with your mother? Are you okay?”
“She invited us to Ray Mallory’s dinner party tonight,” I said.
“What?”
Sighing, I nodded. “When Ollie told her we were now dating, she pretended like it was no big deal.”
His jaw clenched, and he opened his mouth to say something, but stopped.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Ms. London?” The redheaded costume designer, Sarah Tame, walked over with a towel and a clothing bag for me. “I was wondering if you could try on some outfits for the next scene. Mr. Sloan, I’ll be with you in a second.”
Noah nodded, quietly moving away from us and still leaving me wondering what it was he wanted to say.
“Ms. London?” Sarah said.
“Oh, sorry. Lead the way.” Turning to follow her, I made it two steps before remembering the ache between my thighs.
Goddamn him.
Chapter Three
Noah
I had a bad feeling about this.
I knew Esther London better than most people do. She was a poisonous snake in tall grass, and if she’d rolled over on the fact that Amelia and I were dating so easily, that meant she had something up her sleeve. I just had no clue what it was.
That was the reason I didn’t even want to bother with Ray Mallory’s party. I didn’t like the man’s music, for one thing. He was an old-school rock-and-roll artist who had settled in Chicago after destroying at least one hotel room on every damn continent. The man was a fucking pig, but because he had money and fame, no one spoke ill about him—at least to his face. His party was the very last place I wanted to be.
“You look handsome,” a voice said.
In the reflection of the mirror, I saw her, dressed in a soft pink, fitted, floor-length dress, her hair curled into waves stopping right at her breasts. She looked both beautiful and miserable at the same time.
“Thank you,” I said, facing her.
Walking toward me, she reached out to fix the collar of my shirt. “You don’t have to come. I know you’re tired. We were on set all day.”
“And let you face your mother alone? I’m not heartless.”
She smiled before putting her head on my chest; “I want to be a stronger person, Noah. But how do I do that? Whenever I’m around her—even Ollie—I feel like a kid.”
Wrapping my arms around her, I hugged her to me, kissing the side of her head.
“I feel the same away around my parents,” I reassured her. “Like I’m screaming and no one can hear me.”
“Exactly. So how do you do it? How do you stand toe-to-toe with them?”
Is that what she thought? That I somehow was rising above all our issues? If anything, I always felt like I was being crushed by a sea of waves, coming up for air once in a while before being dragged back down.
