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She turns to me with a bashful expression plastered on her face. “Want to dance?”
I roll my eyes, but I’m all smiles. “Sure.”
I take her hand and lead her with my best jazz moves. If I’m being real, the moves I have stored in the back of my mind from those damn dance classes my mom made me take when she was convinced I had the face of a leading man are minimal, but Mia sways her hips like it’s second nature. She knows exactly when to turn, when to pause, when to throw her arm up overhead. And I’m obsessed with the shape of her body in every position she moves into.
I hold her by the shoulders and direct us to a space behind some bushes so we have more privacy. My lips meet hers, so full and deliciously strawberry flavored.
Immersed in her taste for as long as I can, I sweep my hand over her stomach, her breast, and her neck until I settle it in the pocket of her neck and shoulder. She releases a light moan, and it damn nearly breaks me. I cup her face in my hands and deepen our kiss, pressing my lips against her with more passion and fervor.
“Let’s go back to the villa,” I say, breaking away from her only long enough to make my plea.
“Everything will be closed if we leave now,” she says, gliding her hand over my chest.
The hungry look in her eye tells me she couldn’t care less if we miss our chance to take one last tour in Monaco. Her desire for me right now is far greater than sightseeing.
“I don’t plan on going anywhere else until tomorrow,” I growl, returning my lips and basking in her kiss for just a bit longer before we return to our villa.
Chapter 27
Mia
“Mia,canyoupassover the resumes from the last three actresses we just saw?” Gavin asks.
We’re sitting side by side at the casting table alongside a few executives and casting directors from the company’s LA office. We’ve been holding auditions for the main roles ofRunaway with Mefor the past two days now. At this point, I have no idea what time it is or how long we’ve actually been going at it today. Time is becoming one huge blur.
I collect the resumes and hand them to Gavin, who shuffles through the headshots.
“Thanks,” he says, his focus remaining on his notes from their auditions.
“Did you see anyone you liked?” I ask, peering down at his notes. He’s made comments about the things he likes about the actresses who came in today, such as the character choices they made and whether they fit the description we have of Kasey.
“I liked Landry Peters,” he says, jotting down some information from one of the actress’ resumes. “What do you think so far?”
“She’s the one I liked the most, too. She was really good at expressing the emotions of the scene. The others were talented, but I don’t think anyone understands Kasey’s motivations as well as Landry does.”
Gavin huffs. “You and I are on the same page then. I’m going to remind Carter that I want you on the writing team when you’re hired.”
I give him a playful nudge. “Don’t get my hopes up. I may not get the job. Especially after everything that’s happened.”
He furrows his brows, looking genuinely confused by my comment. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
We exchange knowing glances and mirroring smiles. So far, nobody has said anything about the incident with Veronica. It’s as if it never happened. While I’m relieved, it also makes me wonder what everyone must be thinking about me. I trust Gavin has been on my side from the beginning, but what about Mason, who I thought got along well with me? And the rest of my co-workers? I suppose I won’t know until I interact with them when we get back to New York.
And then, there’s still that nagging feeling that Michael is not done with me yet.
“That was the last actress, everyone,” Carter announces. “You’re free to leave.”
As everyone starts to pack up their stuff, Carter rises from his seat and crosses over to us, kneeling down in between Gavin in me.
“What do you two think?” he asks.
“We like Landry Peters,” I say very matter-of-factly. Considering the role is practically based on me, I feel relatively entitled to voice my opinion on who should play her.
Carter nods. “She was pretty good. But out of all the actresses who read?”
I tug at the bags under my eyes. “I don’t even remember the others. My mind is mush. Life is an endless loop. Time is a trap.”
“That’s why we record everything,” Gavin says with a chuckle, patting the video camera set up beside him in the corner of the bare, white-walled room.
