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Kane and Scarlett
ELLE CHRISTENSEN
Copyright © 2022 by Elle Christensen
Editor: Rochelle Paige
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Any resemblance to actual persons is accidental.
This book is a work of fiction.
Created with Vellum
One
KANE
“Don’t walk away from me!” I growled, grabbing Scarlett’s arm and spinning her around. “We aren’t done talking about this.”
A camera swung behind Scarlett’s head, getting a closeup shot of our enraged expressions. It wasn’t difficult for me to tap into that emotion, considering I was filming a scene with a woman I wanted nothing to do with. There weren’t many people in Hollywood that I avoided at all costs, but Scarlett Cassidy was near the top of the list. Just behind that bitch, Mandy Donovan, who made it her mission in life to print as much bullshit and gossip in her rag,Star Watch, as possible. That Scarlett had even given her the time of day was enough to make me want to spit nails.
I told myself to get a fucking grip and focus on the work. To see Bianca standing in front of me instead of Scarlett. But this scene was a little close to home, and it was making it difficult.
Scarlett yanked her arm out of my grip and spun around to face me, planting her hands on her gently curved hips.
“Why?” she snapped. “You clearly haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”
“What is there to say, Bianca? I walked in on you kissing Cannon.” I took a step closer, locking onto her amber orbs, which were currently spitting fire. It was sexy as hell and I fucking hated that I still wanted her after finding out just what kind of person she really was. “What kind of woman tells a man she loves him, then makes out with Santa—who just happens to be my brother—the first chance she gets? What was the point of stringing me along if it was him you always wanted?”
Scarlett let out a cute little growl, and my groin tightened, further pissing me off. “If there’s nothing to say, why aren’t we done with this pointless conversation?”
I paused for dramatic effect, letting the viewer see hurt flashing on my face before I covered it up with anger again. “I guess you’re right. The only thing left to say is, ‘We’re done.’ Goodbye, Bianca.” My fingers flexed, and I reached for her, then balled them into fists and took two steps back.
Scarlett sighed and wrapped her arms around herself, looking at me with a devastated expression. “Hunter, did you ever stop for even one second to consider that things might not have been what they seemed?” She suddenly looked small and broken, which was a true testament to her talent, considering the real Scarlett was larger than life.
Scarlett was tall, with legs that went on for miles, enormous amber eyes fringed with thick, dark lashes, and a mouth that made every woman in Hollywood jealous. Even the best plastic surgeon couldn’t give someone a mouth that perfect. She had the slender build of a runner, and yet curves in all the right places. Her long, chocolate brown hair was pulled to the side and draped over her shoulder, a dark, silky waterfall that rested over her right breast and ended near her waist. Scarlett carried herself with confidence, had an almost regal presence, and was the epitome of class—except for the sparkling studs that lined the shell of both ears…and it was rumored that she had multipletattoos in unmentionable areas. But rather than ruin her image, they gave her more character, made her real and relatable. There had once been a time when I’d very much looked forward to discovering her hidden secrets.
“I know what I saw, Bianca.” I gave her one last look of longing and betrayal, then stormed off the set.
“Cut!” Luca Regis—the director—called, standing from his chair. “We got it,” he grunted in his usual gruff and brooding tone. “We’re done for the night. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Luca,” Scarlett replied airily, smiling at the sound tech helping her remove her Lavalier microphone.
I just nodded, unable to stop glaring at her as I took off my mic and handed it to another tech. It seriously pissed me off that she didn’t appear to be as affected by me as I was by her. I also didn’t know why I cared so fucking much. I should’ve been glad that she wasn’t pining over me. But I liked the idea that she was suffering. And not just because it would be a fitting penance, but because misery fucking loves company.
It had been two years, but I still craved her. Still dreamt about her. Still wished I knew why she’d…whatever. I gritted my teeth and told myself to get a grip as I stomped off[FF1] the set and headed for a dressing room. My phone buzzed, and I yanked it from my pocket to see my agent’s name flashing. I was still salty with her over convincing me to take the role in this ridiculous Christmas movie,The Naughty List. To make matters worse, she hadn’t told me that Scarlett was my “love interest” before I signed the contract. I should have known better than to blindly agree, but she’d made a good argument that I couldn’t even remember now.
Besides, I hated Christmas.
Bah-fucking-humbug.
I stopped at the door to the dressing room and my thumb hovered over the answer button.
