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"Everyone out!" he barks to the room, his eyes still pinned on me.
Everyone freezes, and then the director gives an incredulous laugh. "Are you serious?" he asks Justin, the screenplay in one hand and his hand on his hip in the other.
Justin finally turns away from me long enough to glance at the director. "Did I stutter?" he tosses at him nonchalantly.
The director sputters before his face turns red and he finally begins mumbling under his breath as he gathers up some more papers and then makes a motion for everyone to clear the room.
"You've got five minutes," he says sternly to Justin before he leaves.
Justin doesn't acknowledge him. His sole focus is back on me.
And I'm just sitting there stupefied at everything that just happened, staring back up at him like a deer caught in the headlights.
What in the ever loving fuck is happening?
* * *
Justin
Breathtaking. Gorgeous. Beautiful. Mine.
Those are the thoughts passing through my head as soon as I lay eyes on the blonde-haired, blue-eyed angel sitting on one of the tall, barstool-style chairs set out around the studio.
I have to confess that I didn't even know who I'd be working with today when I showed up to set late. I didn't even take the time to go over the notes my agent sent me about who my costar would be.
Hell, I haven't even looked at the script.
It's not that I don't care about my job. It's just become routine. And it's not like I can't memorize the script in under five minutes, thanks to my photographic memory.
Of course I know who Katie Edwards is. America's sweetheart. She glamorous on the red carpet, but she still somehow retains that adorable girl next door look.
Sexy as sin yet still innocent-looking.
Every man's wet dream.
I'm around beautiful women all the time. It comes with the territory.
But no other fellow celebrity's presence has ever affected me like this. My heart has never jumped into my throat the first time I laid eyes on someone in the flesh. My pulse has never thundered in my ears like this.
I've never before had the insane urge to toss a girl over my shoulder and march her straight back home with me and keep her all to myself.
I want to learn every fucking thing there is to know about Katie Edwards.
She’s younger than me by at least ten years, but ask me if I give a fuck.
Her eyes are still locked with mine as the room clears out. I'm probably being rude as hell, but I can't stop staring at her.
I feel like I'll die if I don't look at her.
She's breathtakingly beautiful with her slim body and long legs, her hair that goes all the way down to her waist in soft waves, her pink, bee-stung lips, her baby blue eyes framed by thick lashes.
But it's more than that. There's a purity about her, something real and unsullied. A light seems to shine out of her eyes.
She seems sweet, non-calculating, something that is so hard to find in females in this business. Most of them are out for blood, always trying to claw their way to the top, looking for opportunities. I of all people ought to know, I can't help thinking wryly.
I don't get any of those kinds of vibes from this sweet girl sitting in front of me, though.
She's staring up at me warily like I've lost my mind.
