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I can see the tears forming in her eyes. I’m so engrossed in what’s happening that I am taken aback when a hand rests on my hand.
A shriek bubbles up in my mouth, but I don’t dare allow it to escape.
I follow the hand up until I meet Paxton’s gaze.
I’m not sure why he’s touching me, and I narrow my brows and shake my head in confusion.
His eyes go wide, and he looks down to where my other hand rests on the wooden arm of the chair, indicating something.
Then it hits me.
My hand was drumming.
My nerves won out again. They have a mind of their own, and I almost disrupted the shoot.
My sole purpose in being here is to keep things running smoothly, to make sure that everything goes off without a hitch, and that the movie is made, and I almost ruined it for everyone, including my client.
I would have if it weren’t for Paxton.
Time stands still as I feel the heat of his skin on mine.
I expect him to remove his hand. As I’m now aware of what I’m doing, he has no reason to keep touching me, but he doesn’t let go.
Inclining my chin, I motion for him to let go, but he shakes his head.
Then he mouths, “You can’t be trusted.”
My mouth drops open, and I want to argue, but instead, I bite down on my lower lip. I force myself to stay quiet and not argue with this insufferable man.
But I don’t because I know this isn’t about me. This is about his client, and the longer the scene takes, the longer we’re here. Which, in turn, means the longer we have to work together.
So yes, I bite my tongue, inhale deeply, and let the scene play on.
All the while feeling the burn from his touch.
14
Paxton
@Stargossip: They say not to work with family . . . guess Teagan Steward missed the memo. Our sources say that her mother is a tyrant and half the reason Twisted Lily is about to sink.
@PumpedUpKids: That woman is psycho! Get her off the set!
@Deathtothesystem: Some people shouldn’t reproduce.
It’s not even a second after the director calls cut and gives the cast and crew a five-minute break that all hell breaks loose.
When it happens, I’m not surprised Teagan’s mom is striding across the grass and getting in her daughter’s face.
Of course, she is.
“Aw, hell . . . here we go,” I say, rubbing my hands together.
Theresa Steward is the most overbearing woman I have ever met. She gives the moms on all those reality dance shows a run for their money. She’s certifiable.
“What’s she saying? Tell her to turn it up,” I practically whisper for Mallory’s ears only.
Theresa’s yelling, but I have no idea what she’s going on about.
“Will you shut up? It’s not funny,” she hisses.
“Au contraire. If all our careers are about to go up in flames, we might as well sit back with popcorn and watch the blaze light.”
“Asshole.”
Mallory quickly stands and dashes over to intervene, but it might be too late. The whole scene has drawn a crowd.
“What’s happening?” Natasha asks from behind me, placing her dainty hands on my shoulders.
“The Wicked Witch of the West is on set. I’m just waiting for the house to drop on her so I can steal the red shoes.”
“Ruby slippers,” she corrects, and I shrug.
“This isn’t good. Look at Stefan. Something like this is going to be the end of Twisted Lily and all our earnings.”
She says the words, and I’m sure my face pales. She’s right.
Before I know what I’m doing, I spring up out of my seat and take off straight into the fire.
Lord knows she’ll likely need reinforcements to get Theresa under control, and if I have to play backup to Mallory to save our asses, so be it.
This fight might have nothing to do with Brad, but if Theresa messes up today’s filming, it will.
One foot in front of the other, I pick up my pace and arrive just as Mallory steps forward, essentially blocking mom from daughter.
“Is this how you repay me?” Theresa shouts, her voice sounding brittle.
“Mom. Please.”
Theresa points a finger in Teagan’s face, and the poor girl allows it.
“No, Teagan. One job. You have one job—”
“Mrs—” Mallory attempts to stop the tirade but is cut off at the knees.
“This is none of your concern, Mallory—”
Her features harden, and her shoulders roll. She looks like she’s preparing for war.
This I’ve got to see.
“That’s where you’re wrong. This is exactly my concern. My job, in fact.”
“Your job is to get my daughter movie contracts.” Theresa places her hands on her hips, leveling Mallory with a glare that singes. “Seeing as we’re here, your job is complete. I’ll speak with my daughter alone.” She practically growls when she turns back to her daughter. “Remind her what’s at stake.”
