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She sucks in a breath and the hands on my chest become fists as she takes hold of my shirt, clinging to me. It feels like my brain is glitching, unable to discern what is real and what isn’t. There’s no questioning the growing hard-on, but the electric jolt down my spine, the warmth that spreads from my gut all the way up to my chest… It’s confusing.
Is she acting orreactingto me? Is her body going through the same torment as mine?
I falter, pausing with my mouth against her parted lips. Unsure for the first time in my life about what comes next. Where did Cara Ford come from, and who the hell does she think she is to play with me this way? I’m supposed to be the game master.
My confusion lasts long enough for Cara to make a decision. She’s determined as fuck to save her stupid theater, because her tongue comes out and flicks my upper lip.
“Oh, Alistair,” she murmurs.
Then, taking my face in both her hands, she pulls me in for a dizzying kiss. Fuck me, the taste of her. No bad breakfast bagel, that’s for sure. All I get is sweet citrus and a tongue I could never get tired of sucking.
“That’s great, thanks,” Miranda clears her throat loudly.
I’m not the only one out of breath when Cara and I break apart. I look over at her, standing like a marine on duty, actively avoiding my gaze as she keeps her attention trained on the panel in front of us. All eyes are on her, in fact, and I’m glad for it.
I need a second to regain my composure. To get back to acting like all of this has been part of my grand plan and that I’m no way blown away by this woman.
“Your work is impressive, to say the least.” Miranda looks to her left and gets agreeing nods from the producer and casting director. “We’d like to have you back for a chemistry read once we decide on our male lead. Keep your phone on.”
“Thank you. That’s… I’ll do that,” Cara says. But her smile is still fake.
Weird. I would’ve thought she’d be ecstatic about getting through to another round. After all, it’s one step closer to saving her theater.
I bail on the rest of the auditions to catch up with her as she’s leaving the building. Racing down the hallway, I have no idea what I’ll say once I get to her, but that doesn’t make me slow down even a little.
“Cara!”
She whirls round on me like she’d been waiting for it, her eyes blazing with a fury that stops me dead. I know I should be taking this seriously, but goddamn she’s so hot when she’s mad. Cute, too.
“Fuck you, Edward! Fuck you and your fucked up games, and your fucking blank check.” The anger that’s raging through her springs into her eyes and mists them over. Something akin to guilt spikes in my gut but I know it’s not that. I don’t feel things like that.
“Name the time and place, Sweetheart.” I tower over her, holding her in place with my unwavering glare. Instead of scaring me off, her rage makes me want her even more. “I’d be more than happy to have you fuck me.”
A sound spills from her lips that I can’t quite pin. Something between a whimper and a laugh. A shadow passes over her features but like the talent she is, Cara tucks it away before it can take hold.
“I don’t want any of it,” she says, steady as a sunset, cool as a fucking cucumber in an ice bath. “I don’t want to be in this movie, and I especially don’t want anything to do with you.”
“What about The Princess Pauper?” My failsafe. I’ve had it in my back pocket for just this scenario. And just like I knew it would, it blindsides Cara into shutting up and listening for a change. “Yeah, I thought so. All those kids with their dreams pinned on you. Do you think you’ll be able to live with yourself if you walk away from this?”
She’s fuming, I can tell, nostrils flaring with the anger she’s keeping at bay for the time being. But in all of that, I can also tell that my words have given her food for thought. It’s never been about the theater for Cara, and I knew that going into this. I knew that if it ever came down to it, all I had to do was tug on her fragile little heartstrings and it would snap her back in line.
And like a master puppeteer presenting his magnum opus on stage, she obeys.
“You’re the scum of the earth, Edward Spencer.” She’s not yelling anymore, but the rage is still tightly packed in her tone. “Don’t think you own me because I’m playing along with your little game.”
“Own you? I would never,” I raise my hands innocently, palms up so she can tell what a stand up honest guy I am. Honest to hell and back, as the fates would have it.
She shakes her head, gracing me with one last look of disdain before she turns to leave.
“Oh, and by the way…” She stops walking away from me, but doesn’t turn around. That’s okay, though. My imagination fills in the scowl she’s likely wearing, and I continue. “There’s a mixer happening Friday night. If you want this role, you’ll be there.”
Cara hikes her purse higher on her shoulder and carries on walking. In her mind she’s making a stand. She’s obliging me but only insofar as it benefits her. What she doesn’t know is that everything she’s doing is exactly what I want.
Let the games begin.
5
Cara
