With His Consent (For His Pleasure,
Book 13)

By Kelly Favor

© 2012 All Rights Reserved

Bryson had just punched Dale Nolan, and
there was no taking it back.

Scarlett was frozen in shock, as time
seemed to slow down and then come to a
standstill. Dale was getting to his feet,
with help from the crowd. “Do you have
any fucking clue who you’re dealing
with?” he said to Bryson.

Bryson was breathing heavily, shoulders
hunched, as he stared back at Dale, the

leading actor in Bryson’s soon-to-be made
first film. Dale Nolan, who he had just
publicly humiliated—who just happened
to also be one of the biggest names in
Hollywood.

“All I know is what I saw,” Bryson said.
“And you have no right to—”

“I have every fucking right,” Dale replied,
and jumped forward to attack Bryson.

Scarlett screamed and tried her best to get
in the way, but by that point, at least half a
dozen others had decided to get involved.

Suddenly, Scarlett was shoved or pushed
from behind and the next moment, she was
sprawled on her hands and knees as

someone’s drink sprayed across the floor.
She heard people swearing and shouting
and then the unmistakable sounds of
punches being thrown.

She looked up in time to see Bryson
wrestling with a large bearded man and
then another guy punched Bryson in the
face from the side. Bryson turned and
punched the person who’d just hit him,
sending that man to the ground as well.

Now other people were fighting.

The whole thing made no sense —but
Scarlett had been around enough violent
men (and a few women) in her life to
know that those types didn’t require much
of a reason to punch and kick things.

Before long, there were probably six or
seven bouncers jumping into the melee
and separating the combatants. When they
got to Dale Nolan, one of the bouncers—a
tall African American man with shoulders
the size of a professional football player
—spoke to him for a time. Dale said a few
things, pointed at Bryson and then the
bouncer turned and his cronies followed.

A moment later, they were escorting
Bryson toward the exit in a phalanx,
ensuring nobody would get to him and that
he couldn’t escape.

Scarlett scuttled after them, not sure what
else to do. She saw Eliza Johnston nearby,
watching

everything

with

a

rather

enigmatic expression on her face. The
famous actress might have been almost
amused by the whole scene, but Scarlett
wasn’t sure.

When they got to the exit, the bouncers
pushed Bryson out the door and into the
street, where he stumbled but managed to
keep his footing.

His eye was beginning to swell and bruise
where the stranger had hit him during the
bar brawl.

“Don’t ever think about coming back here,
dipshit!” one of the bouncers shouted at
him.

Bryson smiled. “Thanks for the kind

words and the hospitality. I won’t forget
it.”

The bouncers gave Bryson one more
menacing look, and then made their way
back inside.

Everyone in line waiting to get into the
club just stared, mumbling and murmuring
amidst themselves.

Scarlett walked over to Bryson. He was
touching his eye and squinting.

“Jesus, Bryson,” she said when he turned
his head, giving her a good look at his
face. His eye seemed to be swelling up
more by the second, the bruise an angry
swirl of purple, red, and pink. “Does it

hurt?” It was mostly a rhetorical question.
Of course it hurt.

Bryson laughed. “Nah. But I guess I’m not
going to be making the cover of Variety
anytime soon.” He started to slowly
hobble down the road.

“Why are you limping?” Scarlett asked,
alarmed. She wondered if maybe he
needed to go to an emergency room.

Bryson shrugged. “I think someone kicked
me in the leg. Maybe it was Dale.”

“You shouldn’t have hit Dale in the first
place,” she told him, trying to keep pace.

Even limping, Bryon’s strides were longer

than hers.

He turned and looked at her, an
incredulous expression on his face. “Are
you kidding me? I shouldn’t have hit him
in the first place? That guy had his hands
all over you. You should be thanking me!”

“Dale was in character, Bryson.”

“What?” he scoffed. “Don’t make excuses
for that asshole.”

“I’m not making excuses.”

Bryson shook his head. “And here I
thought I’d gone and stood up for you.

Turns out you actually approve of being

groped by that douchebag.”

Scarlett stopped and glared at him. “Hey.”

He stopped and squinted at her. His bad
eye was so swollen now that he was
having a hard time seeing through it.
“What?”

“I don’t approve of being groped. But I
happen to know he was in character—

Dale Nolan’s notorious for doing that sort
of thing, and if you’d spend even thirty
seconds talking to me in there tonight, I’d
have told you.”

Bryson sighed. “So you’re saying I
punched a character that Dale was playing

—

not Dale.”

“That’s right. He was doing his thing and I
played along with it.” She crossed her
arms over her chest, daring him to
contradict her.

“Well, I think that’s ridiculous.”

“No more ridiculous than you hauling off
and punching your leading man when Max
Weisman’s been itching for a reason to
fire you.”

Bryson turned and began limping back
down the street. “Fuck Max Weisman.”

“You need to apologize to Dale,” Scarlett
said, hurrying after Bryson.

“No way. I don’t care if he was in
character, Scarlett. I’m not apologizing.

You’re my assistant and he shouldn’t have
been --” he stopped.

“Shouldn’t have been what?”

She looked in his eyes. He was looking
back at her with a fierce protectiveness
that made her heart speed up. She hadn’t
realized before just how expressive
Bryson’s eyes were, and it surprised her.

He blinked and looked away, as if
something had made him uncomfortable.

“You’re naïve about the film business—
and clearly star struck,” he said, finally.
“And obviously Dale took advantage of
that.”

“I’m naïve?” she laughed. The thought
was preposterous. Scarlett had been
called a lot of things in her life, but naïve
was definitely not one of them.

“Yeah.”

“You don’t know a thing about me or what
I’ve been through.”

“Maybe not, but—”

“But nothing,” Scarlett continued, pointing
at him. She pressed her finger against his

chest. “You’re the star struck one, fawning
all over Eliza Johnston from the second
she batted her little eyelashes at you. You
left me, dropped me and ignored me when
I went out of my way to show up at this
stupid thing for you tonight.”

He stared at her for a long moment. His
eyes blazed with anger, and for a second,
she thought he was going to yell at her.
They were standing so close she could see
every detail of his face – the tiny scar on
his forehead, the slight stubble on his
cheeks, a small scratch on his jawline. A
scratch he’d gotten defending her.

Her heart sped up again, even faster now,
and for a moment, she had the crazy

thought that Bryson was going to grab her
and kiss her. But just like that, the anger
dissipated from his eyes, and he shook his
head. “Shit,” he said, running his fingers
through his hair. “You’re right.”

“I know I’m right.” She put her hands on
her hips and glared at him.

He smiled that charming smile of his.
“Forgive me. I’m an idiot.”

“You don’t make it easy to like you,
Bryson.”

Then why did you just want him to kiss
you?

“I know I don’t.” He looked down at the

sidewalk. “But I swear that if you don’t
give up on me, I’ll eventually make this all
up to you, Scarlett.”

Scarlett wasn’t sure why, but for some
reason she actually sort of believed him.

She sighed and shook her head. “You need
to make things right with Dale.”

“I’ll think about it.”

They walked a couple of blocks together,
looking for a taxi, but every one that
passed by seemed to be taken. After a
while, they came across a street vendor
selling roasted peanuts, and Bryson bought
a bag for each of them.

The vendor gawked at Bryson’s black and
blue eye.

“This is just makeup,” Bryson told him,
winking at the guy with his good eye.

“I’m working on a movie.”

The vendor didn’t reply, just gave them
their peanuts and took the cash.

“This will keep us fortified in case we
have to walk all the way home,” Bryson
said, handing Scarlett a bag.

“Great,” Scarlett said, taking a peanut out
of the bag and popping it into her mouth.
“Walking all the way home. A perfect end
to the perfect night.”

Bryson shook his head. “Don’t worry,” he
said. “I’ll figure a way to get us out of
this.”

“Out of walking home? Or out of the
whole Dale situation?”

“Both.”

“Good,” she said, chewing on a delicious
roasted peanut. “Because if you get fired,
so do I.”

“Scarlett.” He slowed down and grabbed
her hand. She turned to him, and couldn’t
help but notice how when he looked into
her eyes, she got tiny little flutters in her
stomach. Something she hadn’t felt in
some time.

“What?” she said.

“I’m really sorry about the way I’ve
treated you since the beginning of this
whole thing. I know I’ve been kind of
flakey. But if they let me stay on as
director, I’m going to do a better job. I’ll
make sure to keep you in the loop and
involved from now on.”

“Thanks,” she said.

“I mean it.” He moved closer to her.

The night had gotten chilly, and she could
feel the warmth of his body heat. She
looked up at him, inadvertently licking her
lips, wondering again what it would feel
like to kiss him. And why was he looking

at her that way?

For a moment, she was certain he was
going to lean in and kiss her, and in that
split second she would have let him—
might have even liked it.

But just then he broke his gaze from hers
and said, “Hey, there’s a taxi.” He waved
his arm and stepped off the curb. “Taxi!”

The cab slowed down to a halt next to
them, and Scarlett was surprised to feel a
disappointed, hollow feeling in her
stomach at the sudden turn in events.
Bryson opened the door and motioned her
in.

Scarlett got inside and told the driver her

address. Then she looked at Bryson.

“We can share a cab,” she told him.

He shook his head no. “I need to clear my
head and walk for a while more,” he said.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Thanks again for coming
with me tonight.”

“You’re welcome, Bryson.”

He shut the door and slapped the rear of
the car once. “G’night, Scarlett!” he
shouted.

The taxi pulled away and she looked back

once. Bryson was standing on the
sidewalk, watching her go. When she
turned to the front again, she could sense
that he was still there, watching them
drive out of sight.

***

Scarlett woke up to her cell phone
buzzing. She rubbed her eyes as the phone
rumbled on the nightstand next to her bed.

Her brain was foggy. But not too foggy to
remember the way Bryson had been
looking at her when the cab drove up at
the end of the night.

As Scarlett groped for the phone, she
realized that she’d gone to bed the

previous night thinking about Bryson, and
now woken up still thinking about him.

That put her slightly off kilter when she
answered the phone. “Hello?”

“It’s Hunter.” He didn’t sound pleased.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, the
words barely escaping her throat.

“I think you know the answer to that.”

She sat up in bed, trying to compose her
thoughts. “Let me explain what happened.
It’s a big misunderstanding—”

“You need to come to my office by nine
o’clock. And bring Bryson with you, do

you understand? Don’t be even a second
late.”

“Why do I have to bring Bryson? Can’t he
come on his own?”

“We can’t find him.” Hunter’s tone was
ominous. “Is he with you, by chance?”

She sat up straighter, as if guilty of
something. “No! No, he’s not with me.”

“Well he’s not answering his goddamn
phone. Maybe he’ll answer if you call. I
don’t know, Scarlett. What I do know is
that if Bryson isn’t in my office by nine
a.m., he may as well hop on the next flight
back to L.A.”

“Got it. I’ll find him.”

“Good.”

And then the phone went dead.

She was up and out of bed in seconds. She
took the quickest shower of her life and
got dressed in a soft charcoal pantsuit. A
quick swipe of mascara and lip gloss and
then she was out the door to grab a cab.
As she went, she tried Bryson’s cell.

He wasn’t answering.

She hailed a cab and directed the driver to
Bryson’s apartment building. She was
sweating and anxious, checking the time
on her phone incessantly, and then calling

his phone again and again.

The driver continually glanced back at
her. “You need another pair of hands,” he
joked.

She tried to grin appreciatively. “If only
they sold those at Target.”

This seemed to confuse him. “Sold what?”

“You know, hands.”

“Why would they sell hands at Target?”

Scarlett sighed. Nothing was going right
this morning, she thought, including her
feeble attempts at humor.

The taxi let her off at Bryson’s building
and she asked the cabbie to wait and keep
the meter running.

When she got to the concierge’s desk, she
told him it was an emergency and she
needed to get up to Bryson’s apartment.
The

concierge

seemed

less

than

impressed. “Is this a medical emergency?”
he asked sarcastically, like he knew it
wasn’t and was used to crazy women
showing up demanding to be let up to see
unsuspecting men. “Should I call the
police?”

“No, no—of course not,” she backtracked.

He called up to Bryson’s apartment and
got no answer. “Sorry. Nobody appears to

be answering at this time. Can I take a
message for Mister Taylor?”

“Did you see him leave this morning?”

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that,” the
concierge replied.

“This is important. Mister Taylor’s job
depends on me getting in touch with him.”

The concierge shrugged. “My hands are
tied. I can take a message—”

“We need to go up to his room and knock
on his door.”

The man was implacable, bored and
disinterested in her frantic pleas. “I need

to attend to my position, so I’m afraid I
can’t do that.”

“Listen, sir --”

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave
now, miss.”

Scarlett dug into her purse, desperately
hoping she had enough cash on her to do
the job. Inside her wallet, she found just
over a hundred dollars. She put the entire
wad of cash onto the desk. “This is for
taking five minutes away from your post to
go knock on his door.”

The man stared down at the cash. Then he
glanced back at her. “How much is it?”

“Over a hundred dollars.”

He sniffed. Slowly, he picked up the bills
and counted the money out. “Fine,” he
sighed, as if he was doing her a gigantic
favor. “Come with me.” He stuffed the
money into his jacket pocket, and then
slowly walked to the elevators.

They rode up together in silence, and
Scarlett’s frustration and despair mounted
as they went.

Finally, the two of them arrived at
Bryson’s door and the concierge knocked
once, loudly. He stood and waited with
his head cocked to the side.

“See?” he said, sounding satisfied. “Not

home.”

“Could you knock again?”

“I’m sure if he was here, he’d have heard
it.”

“Please.”

This time, the concierge knocked twice,
less loudly than before.

Scarlett had had just about enough. She
moved in front of the door and started to
pound loudly on it. “Bryson! Bryson!” She
yelled, knowing that he truly must not be
home. Maybe he’d left his phone
somewhere. He could be anywhere,
anywhere at all.

It was over.

She checked the time and saw they barely
had twenty minutes left to get to Hunter’s
office anyhow. A feeling of deep angst
rolled through her. She’d liked this job—
actually, no, liked wasn’t the right word.
But she’d at least felt like maybe there
was a chance it could turn into something
meaningful. Something different than the
waitressing jobs she’d held ever since she
was old enough to work.

But it didn’t matter now. Bryson had
managed to blow it for both of them. She
felt a surge of rage towards him. He’d
said he would do better last night. He’d
said he would keep her in the loop.

Instead, he’d disappeared.

The concierge did very little to suppress
the grin on his face. “Well, it appears as
though Mister Taylor is either out of the
building, or doesn’t wish to be disturbed
at this time. I think we should go now.”

She was about to try and respond with a
snappy retort when the door suddenly
opened.

“Hey,” Bryson blinked, as if he hadn’t
been exposed to the light in months.

“What’s the racket all about?”

Scarlett spun. “Where the hell have you
been?”

“Sleeping, like normal people do.” He
was standing in boxer shorts and a white
tshirt, and he smelled faintly of cologne
and alcohol. His hair was standing up in
all directions.

“Bryson, people have been calling you all
morning,” she said, trying to control her
fury.

The concierge backed away. “This seems
like a private matter,” he said, and then
turned and left.

“Thanks for your help!” she yelled after
him. “Asshole,” she muttered.

Bryson ran a hand through his hair.
“Scarlett, what are you taking about?

Who’s been calling me?”

“Hunter. Me. There’s a meeting. We don’t
have any time. Come on!” She pushed him
back into his apartment.

“A meeting about what?”

“I don’t have time to explain. I’ll tell you
in the cab, now get dressed, brush your
teeth, run a comb through your hair. Come
on!”

Bryson seemed to get it. He whipped off
his t-shirt and began searching for another
shirt in his closet.

His back muscles worked as he quickly
pushed through the pants and shirts

hanging inside. Scarlett’s breath caught in
her chest, and she tried not to stare.
Bryson’s body was pure perfection – hard
chest, strong arms, and chiseled abs.
There was a small tattoo of a black
butterfly on his shoulder blade, which
gave just the right edge to his otherwise
pretty boy body.

He grabbed some clothes and ran into the
bathroom. Scarlett watched him go, noting
that he also had a tight, perfectly round
butt.

Get a hold of yourself, Scarlett. He’s got
a hot body, but he’s also completely and
totally wrong for you in every way.

She knew that. She hated that she had to

even give herself this talk. How many
wrong choices did one woman have to
make before she learned her lesson?

Hunter was dressed in no time, and
surprisingly, he came out of the bathroom
looking quite well put together. His hair
was tousled, but in a “hey, I’m so cool my
hair even looks good messy” kind of way.

He was wearing a pinstriped button down
shirt, sleeves rolled up, and dark brown
pants with dark, new shoes.

“Not bad,” she said. “Now come on.
We’re going to be late—we literally don’t
have a second to spare.”

They ran out of his apartment and then

waited for the elevator. He wanted to
know what was going on and she did her
best to explain. She told him about getting
woken up by an angry call from Hunter,
and Bryson’s face hardened.

As they got into the cab and Scarlett told
the cab driver the address, Bryson turned
to her. “They’re going to fire me,” he said.
“Aren’t they?”

“I don’t know.” She met his gaze. “Good
chance they will, I guess.”

He nodded, looking out the window for a
bit as they drove. Then he turned back to
her, smiling devilishly. “But I’ve talked
my way out of a lot of tight spaces in my
life.

I think I’ve got one more in me.”

She laughed at his bravado. “I bet you
have, and I bet you do.”

“I’m glad someone has a little faith,” he
replied. She had to admire Bryson’s
spunk, even if he didn’t have the common
sense to realize how much trouble he was
in.

They were mostly quiet on the drive over,
and Bryson seemed in a world of his own.
Scarlett’s own nerves were reaching a
crescendo, as her cell phone rang. “It’s
Hunter,” she whispered, almost choking
on her fear.

Bryson grabbed the cell phone out of her

hand and answered it. “We’re on our way
now,” he said. He listened for a moment.
“Okay, I’ll do that—thanks.” He handed
the phone back to her.

She put it to her ear but the line was dead.
“Why’d you take my phone?”

“He was calling to make sure I was on my
way, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“So there was no point in you getting
hassled over my fuck up.”

She sighed, putting the phone away. “What
did Hunter say?”

“He said I should get my head out of my
ass before it’s too late.”

Scarlett nearly laughed out loud, but
restrained herself with some difficulty.

They arrived to Hunter’s offices about ten
minutes late.

Running inside, Bryson grinned at her. “At
least it hasn’t been dull, right?”

“I think I’d prefer dull at this point,” she
gasped.

Kallie was waiting just inside the doors,
looking tense but poised in a red skirt and
white blouse with a gold necklace. Her
diamond engagement ring glinted in the

glare of the overhead lights. “I’m glad you
both made it,” she said. “Come on, we
shouldn’t even waste a second. Normally
I’d ask if you wanted some water or
needed to go to the bathroom, but
everyone’s waiting.”

“Who’s here?” Scarlett asked, as they
made their way up a tall, spiral staircase
that led to the second floor. The building
was sparse and post-modern in design.

“Dale Nolan and his agent, Greg Garrison
from CML.”

“That’s all?” Bryson asked.

“That’s enough,” Kallie glared at him as
the got to the landing and started down a

hallway that overlooked the first floor,
with glass railings. “Greg Garrison is
probably the most powerful agent in the
world. And he’s about as angry as is
humanly possible without committing a
violent crime.”

Scarlett licked her lips. “What should we
do?”

“You can stay quiet, and Bryson needs to
make a major apology and kiss so much
ass that he’ll be using Chap Stick for a
year.”

They got to the conference room and
Kallie knocked quickly on the door before
opening it, letting Scarlett and Bryson
enter first.

Sitting around a mahogany table in the
center of the room, were Dale Nolan, his
agent Greg Garrison, and Hunter. Hunter
rose to greet them, his eyes hard with
frustration. “Good of you to make it. Late
night?”

Bryson shrugged. “I wasn’t aware I’d be
needed this morning. I apologize for not
getting here sooner.”

Greg Garrison stood up and buttoned his
suit jacket. Even standing up, he couldn’t
have been more than five feet and a couple
of inches. However, Scarlett had to admit
that the little man carried some kind of
aura—his

presence

was

palpably

aggressive. “That’s a shitty attitude, and

I’m not surprised given everything I’ve
heard about you,” he said, glaring at
Bryson. Greg picked up a newspaper and
threw it onto the center of the table where
it slid to within an inch of the edge.

Scarlett looked down and saw that it was
The New York Post, and that there was a
picture of Bryson on the front page,
sporting his black eye. In the background
of the photo, Scarlett’s face with an
expression of shock, hovered nearby.

The headline read: Tinsel town Tempest
Hits NYC: Bridge and Tunnel Director
Decked by Dale!

Dale Nolan hadn’t yet said a word. He
was just sitting in a conference chair,

wearing jeans and a blazer, a baseball cap
skewed low over his eyes. He appeared to
be texting someone on his phone.

“This is the thanks we get for supporting a
first-time director?” Greg yelled. A vein
pulsed in his forehead, which Scarlett was
fascinated by.

“Nobody even wants to ask me what
happened before they attack me?” Bryson
said, picking up the paper and scanning
the article. He rolled his eyes at whatever
he saw there.

“We don’t give a fuck what you think
happened,” Greg replied. He put his hands
on his hips. “You know why?”

Bryson tossed the paper back onto the
table. “No, but I’m sure you’re going to
enlighten me.” He sat down across the
table from Greg and leaned back, putting
his hands behind his head, like he was
settling in for a nice relaxing chat. Jesus,
Scarlett thought, sinking slowly into the
chair next to him and crossing her legs. If
this was the way Bryson was going to
smooth things over, they were in a lot of
trouble.

“Because you don’t matter,” Greg said.
The vein pulsed more intensely in his
forehead now, and his face was nearly
purple.

“I don’t matter?”

“No, you don’t matter. Your opinion
doesn’t matter. Your feelings don’t matter.

You are nothing, you are nobody. In this
town, my client here makes people
hundreds and hundreds of millions of
dollars,” Greg said, pointing at Dale, who
continued to text and ignore the scene
playing out in front of him.

Bryson nodded, not seeming the least bit
ruffled by what Greg was saying. “I get
that.”

“No, you don’t get it. If you got it, you
wouldn’t have strutted in here like God’s
Gift to Film—like you mattered. You
should have crawled in here on your
belly, like a fucking slug,” Greg shouted,

pointing at the ground and turning his back
on them.

Hunter raised his eyebrows and cleared
his throat. “So we’re obviously all pretty
upset about what happened last night. It’s
a major problem. It’s a problem we might
not be able to get past, which is why we
called this emergency meeting.”

Kallie sat down and poured glasses of
water for everyone.

“Look, it was an unfortunate situation,”
Bryson said. He looked at Dale as he said
it, but Dale didn’t acknowledge him. “I
made a mistake, and I found that out when
Scarlett explained to me that Dale was in
character last night.”

Greg spun on him again. “What did he
say? What did he just say?” Greg pointed
at Bryson. “Did you just say he was in
character? Dale Nolan is a fucking artist.
He doesn’t play characters or do whatever
you think he does. Dale Nolan is an
enigma.

He’s like Picasso, he’s like Mozart, he’s
one of the greatest actors—he’s been
called a young Brando, a James Dean.
And you talk about him like he’s some
acting class reject prancing around,
needing your pity. Needing you to
interfere with him. How dare you?”

Bryon turned to Hunter and gave him a “Is
this guy for real?” look.

“Look, Bryson,” Hunter said, “Greg is
concerned that you’re not understanding
the hierarchy. He’s trying to explain that
Dale is doing all of us a big favor by
being in this film, taking on this part, and
allowing himself to be handled by a first-
time director.”

Bryson opened his mouth to speak, and
Scarlett sensed that whatever he was
about to say wasn’t going to be good. She
quickly reached under the table and
squeezed his leg softly. He turned to her,
and she gave him a look. Just relax. Play
by their rules.

Tone it down a little, and maybe, just
maybe, this will blow over.

Bryson sighed and Scarlett saw his
shoulders relax slightly. “Of course I’m
very grateful for Dale’s involvement,”
Bryson said. “And I’m sorry I hit him. I
saw him groping Scarlett, and I over – ”

“Wait, what?” Hunter said.

Kallie sat up straight in her chair.
“Groping Scarlett?” Her eyes went to
Scarlett.

“What’s he talking about?”

Scarlett felt her cheeks burning as
everyone looked at her. She twisted her
hands in her lap. “Um, it was just a
misunderstanding.”

“Of course it was,” Greg said, “because
Dale Nolan does not grope women. And
most certainly not someone like her.” He
looked at Scarlett and shook his head, like
the thought was ridiculous. “He could
have any woman he wants, for God’s
sake. Women throw themselves at him day
and night. Why, just the other night Hayden
Panettiere was calling him, begging him to
come to her hotel room, wasn’t she,
Dale?”

Dale looked up from his phone for the first
time. “Chill, Greg,” he said. He glanced at
Scarlett and gave her a little nod. “She’s
cool.”

Scarlett swallowed. “Thanks.”

“Scarlett,” Kallie said, “why don’t you
tell us what happened last night?”

Greg unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat
down, looking like a five-year-old who’d
been sent to his room. “This is
ridiculous,” he muttered.

Scarlett told her version of events,
including how Dale had been touching her
but she’d been aware of his persona and
hadn’t been bothered by any of it. But she
made it clear that Bryson had no idea what
was going on when he came over to
defend her.

When she was done talking, Hunter sat
back and mulled it over. “Okay, so this is
the first I’ve heard of any of this.”

“None of these details matter,” Greg
replied.

“Why not?”

“Because he’s Dale Nolan. Because the
newspapers don’t have any of that crap in
any of the stories. Nobody’s going to
believe this girl, and nobody will care.”

“Still, it puts things in a different light,”
Hunter said. “This was an honest
mistake.”

The vein was back pulsating in Greg’s
forehead. “Mistake? Punching my client
was a mistake? Maybe we’ll just take it to
court and see what they think. And when
we’ve bankrupted Mister Taylor and

made sure he can’t even get hired to scrub
toilets in Hollywood—then we’ll see if
you still say it was just a mistake.” Greg
stood up, gritting his teeth. “Come on,
Dale. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

But Dale didn’t stand up. Instead he
signaled for Greg to sit back down. “Ease
up, man. You’re blowing a gasket on this.”

Greg sat down again, petulant but
temporarily quiet.

Dale looked over at Bryson. “Hey, man.”

Bryson nodded back at him uncertainly.
“Hey.”

“Listen, don’t take Greg too seriously.

He’s a fucking pit-bull and I need a guy
like that in this sick fucking industry.”

Bryson smiled grimly, but didn’t say
anything.

“But sometimes he can take things a little
too far.” Dale took a deep breath and put
his phone away, cocking his cap back a
little on his head so Scarlett could see his
eyes. Dale rolled his neck around and
sighed, like he was thinking. The tension
in the room was palpable, as they all
waited to see what Dale was going to say.

Finally, Dale smiled widely. “I think
you’ve got balls, man.” He laughed. “I
mean, that shit was wild, when you hit me.
I loved it. I fucking loved it!” He stood up

and extended his hand.

Bryson stood up and also extended his
hand and the two of them shook. “I’m
sorry I hit you.”

“Hey, the papers think I kicked your ass,
so my rep’s still good. And I like that you
stood up to me,” Dale said, as they
stopped shaking hands. “I need a director
who can stand up to me.”

“Then why all of this?” Bryson asked.
“Why couldn’t you call off the dogs?

Why this meeting?”

Dale shrugged. “Sorry, but I needed to be
sure. I wanted to put a little pressure on

you and see how you held up.”

Bryson shook his head, obviously not
understanding Dale’s methods.

“This is just the beginning,” Dale told
Bryson. He laughed. “This is the easy
part.” He slid his cap down over his eyes
again and started towards the door.
“You’ll find that out before too long. See
you all again real soon.”

Greg shook his head, obviously furious
with what had just gone down. “I still
think your director is a ticking time bomb.
But if Dale’s okay with him, then for now
—

we go forward.” He walked out without

shaking anyone’s hand or saying another
word.

Everyone let out a sigh of relief as they
left.

Hunter looked at Bryson and made a face.
“You just escaped by the skin of your
teeth. Even less, to be totally frank.”

Bryson chuckled. “The important thing is
that we escaped.”

“Yeah, for now,” Hunter said. “These
actors can be very temperamental and they
have fragile egos. You punched him in the
middle of a club. He might still hold some
resentment towards you because of that
and it might come out during the film

shoot.”

“There’s nothing I can do about it now.”

Hunter shrugged. “I guess not. You’ve
done plenty to last you a lifetime already.”

“Listen, I’m sorry I caused you guys
trouble. It’s not how I wanted things to
go.”

Kallie leaned forward. “We know that.”

Hunter glanced at her with an irritated
expression. “He really screwed up,
Kallie.

We can’t just give him a pass.”

“He was defending Scarlett.”

“That’s not how things are handled in
Hollywood.”

“Oh? What would you’ve done if it was
me that Dale Nolan groped at that club?”

Hunter’s jaw flexed. “You know what I’d
have done.”

Kallie smiled. “Exactly.”

Hunter exhaled, rolling his eyes. “Fine.
Let’s just put this unfortunate incident
behind us.”

“So we still have our jobs?” Scarlett said.

Hunter and Kallie laughed. “Yes,” Kallie
said. “We promise, you still have jobs.”

“Now, how are those rewrites coming?”
Hunter asked Bryson.

Bryson hesitated. It was brief, but Scarlett
saw lines of worry appear on his face
before he put on a casual smile. “Good.
Really good.”

“Good.”

Kallie’s phone began buzzing. “Shit. It’s a
text from Sean. I totally forgot, we’re
supposed to be meeting him and Lydia for
lunch today.”

Hunter leaned back in his chair. “No. No.

Not today, babe.”

“Honey, we have to. I promised him.”

“Christ,” he muttered. “Scarlett, Bryson,
will you come along?”

Bryson got up. “I wish I could, but those
rewrites won’t do themselves.”

“Scarlett, you have to come,” Hunter told
her.

“Oh, I don’t know….” She wanted to have
a chance to talk to Bryson about
everything that had gone on, but he didn’t
seem too interested in hanging around. He
was already practically out the door.

“Come on. You can’t say no to a free
meal. It would be a huge favor to me.”

She looked at Hunter and Kallie, as Kallie
got off the phone. “You’re coming,”

Kallie told her.

Scarlett tried to be happy. Normally she
would be ecstatic to be included in
something like this, but not today. She
found that instead she wanted to be with
Bryson, to talk to him, to hear what he was
thinking.

Her feelings were confusing and a little
bit scary. When she’d first met Bryson,
her impression was that he was just an
immature jock with some sex appeal.

Since they’d started to spend more time
together, a different picture was emerging.
He had more layers, more dimensions than
she’d given him credit for. The way he’d
stood up for her at the risk of losing his
job was shocking.

Scarlett realized that she wanted to talk to
him now, just the two of them alone again.

But he was leaving, and it hurt that he
didn’t seem to care about leaving her
behind. He gave a wave and told them all
to have a great lunch and that he’d call
Scarlett soon to plan the coming days’
work.

When he was gone, Kallie and Hunter
began discussing the upcoming lunch,

which both of them apparently were
dreading.

“I think I’d rather get shot again then have
lunch with your brother and Lydia,”

Hunter said. He rose from his chair, a bit
stiffly, Scarlett noticed. He was clearly
still suffering the affects of the attack he’d
survived.

“Don’t even joke about that,” Kallie told
him.

“It’s not a joke.”

“Hunter, please.” She grabbed his arm and
looked into his eyes.

He looked back at her and then the two of
them shared a loving kiss. It was an
intimate moment that made Scarlett
distinctly uncomfortable for any number of
reasons.

Suddenly, she was thinking about Bryson
again, and his lips—imagining them
pressing into hers.

She wondered if it was merely that she
was uncomfortable with being alone,
having to make her own way in the world.
Maybe she was just looking for the next
thing, the next man to focus on so that she
didn’t have to deal with her life.

What else could it be?

Bryson was just a distraction, a cute guy
she was working with, nothing more and
nothing less.

***

Lunch was awkward, to say the least.

Over pasta and salad, Kallie, Hunter,
Sean and Lydia exchanged strained bits of
information with one another while
Scarlett looked on.

Sean was clearly trying his best to be
pleasant, but he couldn’t hide his disdain
for Hunter, who he seemed to be
threatened by and also jealous of.

Scarlett didn’t know the details of their

relationships, so the discomfort at lunch
was puzzling to her. Although the food
was good enough, she wished many times
to be somewhere else, or have had a good
excuse not to come along.

At one point, the tension seemed about to
boil over. Sean picked at his calzone and
glanced casually at his sister. “So, when
exactly are you going to tie the knot?”

Kallie sipped her water. “We still don’t
have a date.”

Sean nodded. “You got quite a rock,
though. Man, that thing probably cost as
much as this entire restaurant.”

“Sean!” Lydia cried, slapping him on the

arm playfully. “That’s so rude.”

“What? I’m complimenting it. I’m saying,
that’s a really nice ring you got my sister,
Hunter.”

“Thanks,” Hunter said. His tone was
upbeat, but Scarlett knew him well enough
to know he was annoyed. “I’m just glad
she likes it.” He reached across the table
and took Kallie’s hand.

“I love it,” Kallie told him.

“I wonder,” Sean said to Lydia. “They say
that guys who drive those big SUVs are
overcompensating for other deficiencies
they might have. You don’t think that ring
is like the equivalent of a gigantic gas

guzzling SUV…”

Scarlett wanted to hide under the table.
She couldn’t stand the silence that came
over the group at that moment.

Scarlett felt like she needed to try and do
something. She stood up. “You know, I
need to use the ladies room. Come with
me, Kallie?”

With a look of relief on her face, Kallie
stood up. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

She shot Sean an angry look and he
ignored her.

“Oh, I’ll come too!” Lydia squealed. The
ditzy girl was up and following them like

a puppy dog as they left the table and
headed to the restroom.

Scarlett was annoyed, because she’d
wanted to give Kallie a little time out, to
get her away from her brother and his
crazy fiancé. But now they wouldn’t be
able to talk at all. Lydia was a motor
mouth, completely in her own world.
“Sorry about Sean,” Lydia said, rolling
her eyes, “you know how silly those boys
can be.” She began fussing with her hair
and makeup while Scarlett and Kallie
went to their own stalls. Lydia kept up a
steady stream of chatter the entire time. “I
swear,” she said, “sometimes I almost
wish I’d found a guy more like Hunter. I
mean, I love Sean—you know that Kallie

—but he can be such a handful. Such a big
baby. If he doesn’t get his way just once!”

Scarlett noticed that Kallie barely even
responded to her soon-to-be sister-in-law
except with the occasional grunt.

Scarlett came out of her stall and went to
the sink to wash her hands. A moment
later, Kallie did the same. Lydia looked
over at them. “Isn’t this so fun? We should
do more things with just us girls, don’t you
think? Maybe we can all go shopping or
something next week. I really need a new
MK watch.”

“MK watch?” Scarlett asked, puzzled.

“Michael Kors,” Lydia said. “You should

get one, too!”

Scarlett gave Lydia a quick smile,
deciding now wasn’t the time to tell her
that she had absolutely no money for
shopping, and even if she did, she
wouldn’t throw it away on something as
silly as a designer watch. “That would be
fun.”

Kallie stayed silent.

“Wouldn’t that be fun, Kallie?” Lydia
pressed.

Kallie opened her mouth to reply, but
before she could, her cell started ringing.

She frantically scrounged through her

purse to find her phone. Scarlett could
imagine why. She was probably that
desperate to get away from Lydia’s
maniacal presence.

When Kallie finally found her phone, her
eyebrows raised. “Sorry, I absolutely
have to take this.” She ran out of the
bathroom with the phone to her ear.

Scarlett wished she could come up with
an excuse that would get her away from
Lydia as well.

“Oh!” Lydia was suddenly kneeling down
and picking a piece of paper up off the
floor. “This fell out of Kallie’s purse.”

Scarlett turned in time to see Lydia

unfolding and reading whatever was
written on the piece of paper she’d picked
up.

“Oh, my God!” Lydia’s cheeks flushed as
her eyes moved down the paper.

“Hey,” Scarlett said, taking a step toward
Lydia. “I don’t think you should be
reading that.” She went to grab the paper,
but Lydia turned around, keeping it out of
Scarlett’s reach.

“Well, I had to make sure it was hers.”
Lydia actually turned the page, her eyes
getting bigger and bigger, her cheeks
turning redder and redder.

“That’s really not cool,” Scarlett said, not

sure exactly what to do. She glanced
toward the door, willing Kallie to come
back.

Lydia ignored her. “This is the craziest
thing I’ve ever seen.”

Scarlett was furious. This idiot was
totally violating Kallie’s privacy. “Give
that to me,” she said, walking towards her.

“Do you know what this is?” Lydia asked,
her voice screeching. She waved the
paper around in front of Scarlett’s face.
“Do you?”

“I have no idea and I don’t want to know.
It’s none of my—”

“This is a sex contract between her and
that asshole, Hunter.” Lydia’s nostrils
flared. “It says that she has to be his slave.
His sex slave.”

Scarlett felt faint. She knew that Hunter
was into BDSM—after all, she was the
one who’d introduced him to the culture in
the first place. But most people didn’t
understand bondage and submission and
why certain couples might wish to engage
in such practices.

Certainly, Lydia had no concept of what
the contract meant or how it actually
protected both parties by spelling out the
agreement in detail.

Lydia didn’t even know that it was wrong

to look through someone else’s personal
property.

And Scarlett knew she had to act fast if
she was going to keep this from blowing
up in Kallie’s face. “I’m sure it’s just a
joke,”

Scarlett

laughed.

“Kallie’s

nobody’s sex slave.”

Lydia held the contract out for Scarlett to
see. “Read it yourself. This isn’t a joke.
The date is from months ago, when the
two of them first started seeing one
another.” Lydia’s eyes narrowed. “And to
think, everyone considers Hunter such a
hero, such a great guy to Kallie. Even I
fell for his act. Meanwhile, my man is
treated like chopped liver and he’s twice

the person that Hunter is.”

“Sean seems like a really sweet guy,”
Scarlett lied. “This isn’t a competition
between the two of them.”

“You don’t know what it’s like!” Lydia
fumed. “I’m always a second-class
citizen. All anyone ever talks about is
Kallie. Kallie and Hunter. They’re
celebrities and they treat me like I don’t
even exist.” She took a deep breath, and
Scarlett could practically see the wheels
in Lydia’s head turning. “But when I tell
everyone about this contract, people will
see that it’s all bullshit. They’re all
bullshit.”

Scarlett was panicking. How could she

stop this girl from ruining everything for
Kallie?

“I don’t think you should do that. I don’t
think you should say anything, Lydia.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m asking you not to. As a
friend.”

Lydia’s eyes lit up with new interest.
“You’re asking me as a friend?”

“Yes,” Scarlett replied, trying to appear
confident.

“But we hardly know one another.”

“Well, I want to change that.”

“I don’t know if I can believe you.”

“Give me a chance to prove myself.”

Lydia looked down at the contract. “And
what should I do with this?”

Scarlett held out her hand and stepped
closer. “Give it to me. I’ll pretend I found
it and give it back to her. It’ll be our
secret.”

Lydia looked up and pulled the contract
close to her chest, her eyes narrowing.

“You’re just telling me what I want to
hear.”

“No, I wouldn’t do that.”

Suddenly, Lydia acquired a triumphant
expression. “If I do this, then you’re going
to invite me around Dale Nolan and Eliza
Johnston and all the cool movie people
that you’re hanging out with. I want to be
included in everything.”

“Of course,” Scarlett said, meeting her
gaze.

“I mean it. Everything.”

Scarlett put out her hand again. “Anytime
you want, just give me a call and if I can
possibly make it happen, I will.”

Lydia took her phone from her purse as

her other hand gripped the contract tightly.
“What’s your phone number?” she
demanded.

Scarlett recited it, hating that she had to do
this, but knowing she owed Kallie and
Hunter too much to leave them at Lydia’s
mercy. When she was done telling Lydia
her phone number, she again moved
closer.

Lydia grudgingly gave her the contract.
“It’s yours.” But then she looked slyly at
her through half-lidded eyes. “But if you
go back on your promise, I’ll tell
everyone our secret.”

“That won’t happen.” Scarlett folded the
contract in half without even glancing at it.

Lydia’s face transformed into that of an
innocent angel. “Oh, I’m so glad we’re
friends, Scarlett. And maybe one day you
and Kallie and I will all be best friends
together.”

“That would be wonderful.” Scarlett
flashed the girl a big, fake smile. “Now let
me go out ahead of you so that I can tell
her I found this. Okay?”

“Okay.” Lydia winked and giggled. “See
you in a minute, bestie.”

“Yeah, see you in a minute.”

Scarlett breathed a deep sigh of relief as
she ran out of the bathroom, looking for
Kallie. Kallie was still on the phone, in a

side hallway off the main restaurant area,
deep in conversation.

Scarlett walked up and tapped her on the
shoulder. Kallie spun around, put up a
finger, indicating that she was almost off.
“Yeah. I do understand, Max.” She
nodded a few times and rolled her eyes.

Scarlett could hear Max Weisman’s
booming voice yelling through the
receiver, although she couldn’t tell exactly
what he was saying.

“Okay. I’ll pass your comments along to
everyone. Will do.” She nodded one last
time. “Bye, Max.” Then she hung up and
threw her head back. “That man is
infuriating.”

“Hey, Kallie—”

“He’s upset about Bryson, says Bryson’s
way behind on everything.”

Now Scarlett was worried enough to
temporarily forget why she’d come out
here in the first place. “Behind on what
exactly?”

“He says Bryson still hasn’t scouted the
major locations, like the hotel or the
coffee shop or…well, pretty much
anything. And there are major rewrites
due like…yesterday.”

“I had no idea. He doesn’t tell me
anything,” Scarlett said.

“Well, you need to explain to him that if
he drops the ball even one more time, it’s
going to be over. We can’t protect him
much longer, not after what happened
between him and Dale last night.”

“Okay. I understand. I’ll talk to him.”

Kallie looked down at the contract folded
up in Scarlett’s hand. “What’s that?”

“Oh. Um, you must have dropped this
when you were in the bathroom.” Scarlett
gave her the paper and noticed how
Kallie’s eyes widened.

“Did you read this?” Kallie asked, her
voice hard.

“No, of course not,” Scarlett said, which
technically was true.

Kallie looked closely at her. “You
obviously know. Did—oh my God—
please tell me that Lydia didn’t see it.”
The look of panic on Kallie’s face was
almost heartbreaking.

“No,” Scarlett said, hoping her voice
sounded convincing. “Lydia didn’t see it.”

“But you know. You obviously know--it’s
all over your face, Scarlett.”

“Kallie, I don’t care. It’s none of my
business.”

Kallie shoved the paper back into her

purse. “I forgot I still even had that. Just
promise me you won’t breathe a word of
that to anyone. It’s personal and
embarrassing and, besides, Hunter and I
aren’t even really like that anymore.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking
about,” Scarlett said, with a grin.

Kallie laughed. “Okay, okay. Thanks for
being so great.”

The two of them walked back to the table
together. Scarlett sat down, trying not to
look directly at Lydia, who was
desperately trying to make eye contact
with her.

She wondered if there was even a chance

she could control a loose cannon like
Lydia, who could go off at anytime and
ruin everything.

Just placate her. Make her feel liked and
special.

So now I’m her hostage, Scarlett thought.
I’m going to be in her debt and she’s never
going to stop trying to hold this over my
head.

It wasn’t ideal. Scarlett just hoped that
when it was all said and done, Kallie
didn’t hate her for this.

***

Bryson met her at Grand Central Station

later that afternoon. He was carrying a
tray with two Starbucks coffee cups and
wearing jeans, a sweater, and his
trademark grin.

The dark circles under his eyes betrayed
the fact that he was fairly exhausted. He
hoisted at the computer bag slung over his
shoulder. “Thanks for coming,” he said,
right away.

Scarlett shrugged. “It’s my job.”

“I got you a coffee,” he said, handing her
one of the cups. As his fingertips brushed
hers, she got a deep chill down her spine.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she told him.

He smiled. “I at least owe you a coffee
after all the shit I’ve put you through.

Here. I didn’t know how you took it so I
brought a choice of sugar and sugar
substitutes.” He dug into his pocket and
put three creamers and some packets in
her hand.

She felt her cheeks flame. It was sweet of
him to think of her—romantic even.

Of course, she knew it wasn’t actually
romantic, because he was doing it as a
kind of peace offering.

When she’d called him and passed along
the warning that Max had delivered to
Kallie, Bryson had instantly said that he

was going to scout a location that evening
in Connecticut. And of course, Scarlett
had offered to come with him and help.

So this was Bryson’s way of showing
appreciation for her efforts.

It was touching, they way he’d thought of
her and even gone so far as to get different
kinds of sugar and Splenda and Sweet ‘n
Low just in case.

Scarlett took off the top of her coffee and
poured the Splenda and creamer into it.

Bryson watched. “So you’re a Splenda
girl.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll file that away for future reference.”

She put the top back on her coffee and
started to walk toward the train that had
just pulled into the station, taking a long
sip of the hot liquid as she went. It tasted
dark and sweet, and warmed her as it
went down.

“So how was lunch with Hunter and
Kallie?” Bryson asked.

Surprisingly, Scarlett wanted to tell him
how it was. The whole thing, even the part
about the contract that Lydia had found. It
would be nice to share with someone, to
get someone else’s opinion on how she’d
handled that particular situation.

But it was impossible for numerous
reasons, not the least of which was the
fact that it would open up a whole can of
worms about BDSM. And then she might
have to explain to him that she’d once had
a relationship with Hunter.

So for all of those reasons and more,
Scarlett just gave a little shrug. “Lunch
was okay,” she said.

“Did they spend the whole time bitching
about what a bad job I’m doing?”

“Hardly.”

They boarded the train and sat down next
to one another at the back of one of the
cars. Bryson allowed Scarlett to sit next to

the window and he took the aisle seat. It
was very close quarters, and she couldn’t
help but notice how she got a secret little
thrill every time his leg touched hers.

She knew this was just a phase, a little
crush that would run its course in due
time.

Still, it was disconcerting because she
wasn’t expecting it.

The train started moving, and Scarlett
pushed the thoughts out of her head. She
needed to focus on the task at hand. They
were going out to Stamford, Connecticut
—

apparently, Bryson had talked to the

owner of a hotel in that area who’d agreed
to let them use his establishment for the
film.

Scarlett pulled out her notebook and pen.
“We should probably discuss the plan.”

“What plan?” Bryson said, sipping his
coffee. His tone seemed to indicate that
plans in any capacity were ridiculous.

“Well, what you’re looking for in terms of
setting—what are the considerations to
determine if you want to use it or not in
the film?”

He ran a hand through his already tousled
hair, then shrugged. “I’ll just know it when
I see it. I have a mental picture in my head

of what I’m looking for.”

“Okay.” She tapped her pen against her
notebook and tried to choose her next
words carefully. “But there must be some
defined qualities, things that we can write
down to help come to a decision.”

“Not really. I’ll just take a look around,
have a chat with the owner. I’m feeling
really good about it.”

“Okay. Um, is there a backup locale?”

He shook his head. “No backup. This
one’s going to work.”

Scarlett sighed. “Why am I here if you
never want my help?”

“You’re here because I value your opinion
and your company,” he said. “But I don’t
need your opinion on every single task.”

“It just feels like you never want to give
me any responsibility or information.

We’re supposed to be planning this
together.”

Bryson shifted on seat next to her. “No,”
he said. “We’re not supposed to be
planning it together. You’re my assistant.
You’re supposed to be assisting me. And
right now you can assist me in my belief
that this place is going to work.”

“Forget it.” She closed her notebook and
tried to shove it back in her purse, but

Bryson reached out, quick as a cat, and
grabbed the notebook. She held it in her
hand and pulled back, but he was much
stronger than her. They stayed like that for
a long moment, eyes locked on each other,
the notebook between them. The side of
his mouth pulled up into a grin, and he
raised his eyebrows, challenging her.

A shiver ran down her spine. She had the
feeling he was the kind of man who was
used to getting what he wanted, especially
from women. She held her ground though,
not letting the notebook go, even though if
he’d wanted to, he could have easily
pulled it from her grasp.

Finally, he let go, an amused smile playing

on his lips. He’d let her win this one.

But something told her it had still been on
his terms.

“Look,” he said. “I’m trying my best. This
isn’t normally how I do things.”

“You mean, you’re normally completely
disorganized and scatterbrained?”

He gave her a sidelong glance. “Yes.”

“Well I like to be organized. But you’re
not letting me be.”

“Okay. Fine, I give up. Let’s get
organized,” he said. He was still looking
at her with that amused grin, almost like

he found her funny and wanted to indulge
her childish fantasy of playing assistant to
the big shot movie director.

Reluctantly, Scarlett pulled out her
notebook and began to write. And to her
delight and surprise, Bryson began talking.
First, his words came slowly. But soon he
was getting excited and the words came
faster. Scarlett could hardly keep up. He
went through all of his thoughts about the
location that they were going to be
scouting, a moody hotel filled with gaudy
wallpaper and canopy beds. Scarlett was
impressed to find that Bryson was actually
very detail-oriented and had a real vision
about what he was looking for.

After about half an hour, they had captured
most everything in her notebook, and so
Scarlett closed it and put it away.

A lot of people had already gotten off at
various stops along the way, and the car
was now quiet — and you could hear was
the sound of the train on the tracks, and the
clacking and shaking as it went.

Bryson opened up his computer bag and
pulled out his laptop. “I need to work on
these rewrites,” he said, his expression
betraying real concern now.

“What was Max talking about anyway?”
Scarlett asked. “Why is he upset about
your rewrites?”

“Because he’s an asshole,” Bryson said.
“At first, all anyone said was how
amazing my script was, and then in the last
week it’s been like one set of notes after
another. I’ve got pages and pages of
suggestions and questions.”

“I’m sure whatever you write is going to
be amazing,” Scarlett said. She was
flattered that Bryson felt comfortable
enough to admit that to her.

“Have you even read the script?”

She blushed. “Well, no, I haven’t.”

He smiled at her. “I’ll give you a copy
later—there’s a spare in my bag. You
need to read it and know it by heart.”

“Of course. I can start right away.”

“You’ve done enough work for now. Just
relax and enjoy the ride.”

Outside the window, houses and streets
and buildings went by in a blur.

Bryson began typing away at his computer
and Scarlett let him attend to his work,
realizing just how much pressure he must
be under with everything that had gone on
up to this point.

It occurred to her that he’d never
complained about all of the distractions
that he had to deal with—Hunter being
shot, Max wanting Bryson off the film,
moving to New York and being forced to

learn the ropes almost entirely on his own,
getting into a confrontation with his
leading actor.

Bryson was being tested and he was under
tremendous scrutiny for every little move
he made. No wonder he wanted to try and
control every detail. These little details
were the only things he could control.

Scarlett leaned her head back against the
seat and tried to relax. But it was hard.

She wasn’t sure if it was because Bryson
was so close, or because she was excited
now to see this hotel they were going to.
Her body felt filled with nervous energy,
and she got up and stood in her seat,
stretching her legs and glancing around the

almost empty car.

A beautiful young woman was sitting a
few feet opposite them, and Scarlett
noticed her stealing glances at Bryson.
Great, Scarlett thought, everyone’s going
to be staring at us because of his black
eye. Bryson looked kind of like a street
thug, she thought, biting back a smile. She
sat back down in her seat, hoping that the
owner of this hotel wouldn’t judge Bryon
for being all bruised up. Maybe they could
tell him that --

“Excuse me,” a voice said. It was the girl
from the other seat, the one who’d been
staring at them. She was standing in the
aisle now, and she brushed her brown hair

away from her face. “Excuse me, are you
Bryson Taylor?”

Bryson looked up from his laptop,
distracted. “Yeah. Do I know you?”

The girl laughed and looked away, but in a
very practiced way that Scarlett found
obnoxious. This girl wasn’t nearly as
embarrassed as she was pretending to be.

“No, you don’t know me. I recognized you
from your picture in the paper. You know,
the whole fight at the club?” She gave
another shy smile, but this time there was
a slight intent behind it – obviously this
girl was dumb enough to find Bryson’s
crazy antics attractive. “Anyway, I just
had to come over and say hi, because I

read about you in Variety and I’m so
excited to see Bridge and Tunnel when it
comes out.”

Hunter grinned, his work seemingly
forgotten “Thanks.”

“Could I trouble you for an autograph?”

“Of course. I love meeting fans,” Bryson
said. Scarlett rolled her eyes. She was
sure this was definitely the first fan Bryon
had ever met in his life, and the first
autograph he’d ever signed.

The girl blushed, making Scarlett hate her
all the more.

Bryson turned to Scarlett. “Could I

borrow your pen to sign an autograph for
this lovely girl?”

Scarlett rummaged through her bag. “You
should try and remember to bring your
own pens from now on.”

“Sorry. Next time.”

She handed him her pen and he held it in
the air. “What should I sign?”

The girl bit her lip. “How about my
shirt?”

“Your shirt?”

“Seriously, it would be so cool.”

Maybe he should sign her tits, Scarlett
thought. She’d probably really think that
was cool.

As Bryson joked and talked and flirted
with the brunette, Scarlett seethed with
jealousy. And on top of that, she was
angry with herself for being jealous in the
first place.

You don’t even really like him. It’s just
that you’re spending time with him and
he’s attractive and maybe not as big a
jerk as you first thought.

But Scarlett knew there was more to it
than that. She hated this feeling—she hated
that suddenly she actually cared what
Bryson was thinking and doing and that

she wanted to be a part of it.

Finally, mercifully, the woman left with
her signed shirt and her story that she’d go
back and tell all her little friends.

Scarlett was still grouchy as Bryson
handed her back her pen. “Thanks.”

“You should have just gone ahead and
given her your number.”

“Maybe if she’d asked, I would have.”

“Figures.”

“What does that mean?” he said, turning to
her.

“It means, you shouldn’t be flirting and
goofing off when you have rewrites to do
and people depending on you.”

Bryson’s smile faded and his expression
darkened. “Last I checked, you weren’t my
teacher, or my babysitter.”

“Maybe you’d do better if I was.”

“You know, I like you Scarlett. And
you’ve put up with a lot of crap because
of me recently. So I’m going to just
pretend this little conversation didn’t
happen.” He turned back to his laptop and
started typing away.

***

Finally, they arrived in Stamford. Neither
of them were talking as they walked down
to street level and found a cab. Bryson
told the cabbie they were going to the
Rangeview Hotel, and then they were on
their way.

Sitting silently in the taxi, Scarlett was
starting to cool down. She was also
starting to regret her childish outburst.

Of course he was flattered about being
asked for his autograph. If the shoe had
been on the other foot, she’d have felt
exactly the same way. And even if he’d
been flirting with that girl—so what?

Bryson was not her property, and if he
wanted to flirt with, or even sleep with,

all the women who would soon be
throwing themselves at him—that was his
choice.

She cleared her throat.

Bryson glanced at her. “You okay?”

“Sorry.”

“What?”

“I said, I’m sorry.”

He smiled. “Me too.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry
about. I was the one who acted like a
brat.”

“Listen, Scarlett. Obviously I’m not a boy
scout and I’m not expecting you to be
perfect either. If we work this closely
together, we’re bound to have a few
stupid arguments and tense moments. I
appreciate you saying you’re sorry,
though.” He grinned.

Scarlett had to look away from him,
because his eyes were simply too alluring
right then. It was as if she was seeing him
for the first time—really seeing him. He
wasn’t just good looking, she realized.

Bryson was flat-out gorgeous, and he was
sexy too. How could she not have seen
just how problematic it was going to be
working like this with him?

She’d always gotten into bad situations
with men, and now she was about to do it
again.

Unnerved, she grew silent again and
looked out the window, not speaking until
they reached the hotel.

When they arrived, she was impressed.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, staring up at the
building.

“Yeah, it’s pretty much perfect. Old,
majestic, with plenty of character and it
completely fits the tone of my film,”
Bryson said as they stood curbside and
admired it.

“Of course, most of this is assumptions I
made when I was looking at pictures
online.

But like I said, I have a good feeling about
this.”

They went inside and a very stuffy, older
woman greeted them.

Bryson explained to her that he was here
as part of a scouting team for a feature
film location, and that he’d spoken to the
manager and been had given the go-ahead
earlier that day. “So I was wondering if
we could take a little tour, see some of the
rooms and discuss the film schedule with
the manager.”

The woman stared at him for a long time.
“You need to speak with the owner of the
hotel, sir.”

Bryson looked perplexed. “But I just told
you—”

The woman shook her head. “Our manager
was misinformed. We’ve had film crews
here before and it’s been a disaster. Major
Hollywood production companies always
want to film here, because our hotel is old
and beautiful. We had Julia Roberts here
just last year for a movie.”

Bryson frowned. “Okay, so then I guess
I’m failing to understand the problem.”

“After the last film shoot on the premises,

our owner said he no longer wished to
continue dealing with the disruption to the
hotel that it entailed.”

“We can pay you a very generous sum for
any

inconveniences,”

Bryson

said,

shooting her his most charming smile.

But the woman wasn’t impressed. “They
always pay, but it’s not enough to account
for the disruptions and the damage and
every headache. However, if you’d like to
try and convince our owner to change his
mind, you’ll need to speak directly to him
and not a manager.”

“Okay,” Bryson said, shrugging. “When
can I speak to the owner?”

She went and typed something into her
computer.

“I’m

just

checking

his

calendar,” she said.

Bryson turned and gave Scarlet a
reassuring smile. Scarlett tried to smile
back, but she was worried. They didn’t
have enough time to keep scouting
locations.

Everything had gotten to the point where it
needed to be done now—or even before
now.

“You can speak with the owner tomorrow
morning at nine when he comes in.”

Bryson straightened. “Tomorrow?”

“Yes, that’s when he’s available. And in
any event, I wouldn’t hold my breath.

He’s made it very clear to me that he no
longer wishes to have movies being
filmed at our hotel.”

“Yeah, you said that already.” Bryson
sighed, the first hints of frustration
showing on his handsome face. “The
problem is, I spoke to the hotel manager
and he gave me a very different story. I
made arrangements and plans based on the
idea that this hotel was available to me.
It’s very important that we not just be
given the runaround on this—“

“I’m not giving anyone the runaround,” she
said. “The manager you spoke with is

new, and was not aware that our owner
had strong opinions on the matter. The
manager was wrong to have promised you
anything, and he will be informed of his
error when I see him again.”

Scarlett stepped in just as Bryson was
about to say something else that she knew
would only serve to inflame the situation.
“Thank you so much for your help,” she
said.

“We’d love to talk to the owner tomorrow
when he comes in.”

The woman arched an eyebrow. “Well, I
can’t promise he’ll have much time for
you—but you might be able to get his ear
for five minutes. He’s very busy with our

hotel business, as you might imagine.”

“Of course,” Scarlett said.

“Please excuse us for a moment,” Bryson
said to the woman, then pulled Scarlett
aside and out of earshot. “What do you
think you’re doing?”

“What do you mean? I’m getting us a
meeting with the owner. It’s the best
chance we’ve got.” Actually, it was the
only chance they had, but she knew better
than to tell him that.

“Screw it, I’ll figure something else out.”

“Bryson, we’re in trouble and you know
it. Let’s just give this guy our best pitch

tomorrow and pray for luck.”

Bryson sighed, considering what she was
telling him. He checked his phone.

“Fine. Then we better get back to the train.
And we’ll have to meet first thing
tomorrow morning to make it out here in
time.”

Scarlett shook her head. “That seems silly.
Let’s just get a couple of rooms for the
night and then we’ll be able to be relaxed
and ready tomorrow without having to
rush around.”

Bryson stared at her evenly. He exhaled
and nodded. “Yeah, okay. We’ll just have
to roll the dice and hope for the best.” He

grinned. “It’s worked for us so far.”

They walked back to the front desk. The
older woman was watching them warily.

“Something else I can assist you with?”

“We’d like to book two rooms for the
night,” Bryson said.

She typed at the computer and her eyes
narrowed, lips pursed. “I’m sorry but I’m
afraid we don’t have two rooms
available. We’re all booked up, except for
one room.”

“Does it have a couple of beds at least?”

“No, I’m afraid there is just one queen

sized bed in the room.”

Bryson looked at Scarlett and raised his
eyebrows in question.

“Might as well,” she sighed. In her
stomach, she felt a strange flutter of
excitement. They were going to share a
room—maybe even share a bed.

Was it wrong that she was glad that this
circumstance had presented itself?

Bryson finished booking and paying for
the room, while Scarlett pretended to
hardly even notice or care. Meanwhile,
she was fighting an internal battle between
two opposing parts of herself.

The one part, excited and almost giddy at
the prospect of having so much time with
Bryson, time where anything could happen
between them. The other part of her—

perhaps the more rational part—was
nervous that this was a big mistake, and
told her that she must keep it professional
at all costs.

The last thing you need is to complicate
an already complex situation.

Forget about Bryson as a romantic
possibility. If you do something to
sabotage your new chance at a career,
you’ll never forgive yourself.

She knew it was true, and she felt

determined not to fall into the old traps. It
was time to grow up and stop giving in to
every silly crush and temptation that came
along.

Besides, who even knew if Bryson had a
single bit of interest?

“…grab something?”

She snapped out of her tumultuous
thoughts to find Bryson staring at her with
a bemused grin.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you wanted to grab some food
—they’re still serving dinner in the dining
room. It’ll give us a chance to sample the

atmosphere and get a feel for the place.”

“Oh, sure.” She smiled at him, hoping her
nerves didn’t show.

“Cool.” He flashed her the room keys, and
slid one of the keys into her hand.

As he did so, his palm made gentle contact
with hers and she felt a rush of warmth in
her body. “Thanks,” she said, suddenly
reduced to simple one-word responses.

Bryson led her to the dining room, which
was down a wide, ornate hallway that
was decorated with old paintings. They
admired the beauty of the surroundings as
they made their way down the hall.

Eventually, they came to the dining room,
which was also large and expansive,
replete with candelabras and white-
clothed tables. There were many empty
tables and Scarlett didn’t know if it was
because dinner service was nearing an
end or if it was just so enormous that the
room wasn’t often filled unless it was a
special function.

A maître d with a stereotypical pencil thin
mustache seated them at a small table for
two near a window that overlooked the
back gardens, which were lit in such a
way as to give them an ethereal glow.

“Madam,” he said, pulling out her chair.

“Thank you,” Scarlett laughed, as she sat

down.

The maître d handed them each a menu
and the wine list. He recommended one of
the wines in particular, and then told them
their waiter would be over momentarily.

Bryson looked at her. “Too much?”

“I don’t think so. Do you like it? For the
film, I mean?”

He glanced around. “I do. And it’s big,
plenty of room for cameras and crew
without being crowded in. The fight scene
in act two—” he stopped himself. “I
forgot, you haven’t read it yet.”

She looked down. “I want to, though. I’m

sure it’s very good.”

“Depends who you ask these days.”

She didn’t have a chance to follow up on
his comment, because their waiter
approached. He was tall and boyish, but
quite nice. He asked them if they wanted
to start with a bottle of wine.

Bryson again looked to Scarlett, but when
she hesitated, he just turned back to the
waiter. “Yes, we’d like to start with a
bottle of your finest red.”

The waiter smiled widely. “Absolutely,
sir.”

When he was gone, Scarlett blinked in

confusion. “Should we be drinking before
our big meeting tomorrow?”

Bryson laughed. “I don’t know about you,
but I want to relax a little. The last couple
of weeks has been almost criminally
intense and I haven’t taken the time to
enjoy this ride.”

“Well, that makes sense.”

“Besides, sitting here with you right now,”
he said, “I just feel like celebrating the
moment.”

She felt her cheeks flush.

This isn’t turning into a date, is it? she
asked herself, frightened but also hoping

that maybe it was.

“We definitely should celebrate the fact
that we both still have jobs,” she said.

“I’ll drink to that.”

“And obviously you should take the time
to appreciate all of the success you’ve
experienced recently.”

“Exactly.” He nodded his approval.
“That’s the spirit.”

The waiter returned with the wine and
poured a small amount as a sample.

Bryson took a sip. “Wonderful.”

Two full glasses were poured and then the
bottle was placed front and center.

Bryson ordered a medium rare prime rib,
and Scarlett got the chicken breast and
risotto.

As she drank her wine, Scarlett felt the
tension slowly drain from her shoulders
and legs. The room was growing warmer
and somehow duller, but in a luxurious
way, as though her senses were more
attuned to the little sphere that only she
and Bryson inhabited at that moment.

“This is good,” she admitted, sipping yet
again.

“We can always get another bottle.”

“Careful there, Killer,” she joked. “Let’s
just see how we do with this one.”

“This reminds me of dinners with my
family, growing up,” Bryson said,
swishing the red liquid around in his
glass. “After my dad won a big case, he’d
take all of us out to this Italian restaurant
and we’d have a huge meal, and the wine
would flow.”

“Your father was a lawyer?” Scarlett
asked, surprised. Somehow Bryson hadn’t
struck her as the type to come from a
serious, intellectual family. Actually, she
hadn’t really ever thought about what kind
of family Bryson had come from. The
thought was foreign to her – that Bryson

was a person who had a family, a father, a
mother, possibly sisters and brothers. But
now that the idea had occurred to her, she
was surprised to find that she wanted to
know as much about him as she could.

“It always takes people by surprise who
haven’t known me very long.” His blue
eyes landed on her and his red lips hooked
into a slight smile. “Actually, I come from
a long line of lawyers, including my
grandfathers on both sides. Both of my
siblings are currently practicing at big
firms.”

Scarlett sat back. “Wow. And you didn’t
take up the family business?”

His eyes grew distant. “No.”

“Sorry,” Scarlett said, worried that her
questions might have caused him to clam
up. “I didn’t intend to pry.”

He picked up the bottle of wine and
poured more for both of them. “No, it’s
fine,”

he said. “I’m happy with the choices I’ve
made—well…most of them, anyway.”

“Did you ever think you might become a
lawyer?”

He nodded. “I finished two years of law
school. Was at the top of my class when I
dropped out.”

Scarlett felt like her eyes might bug out of

her head. “You almost graduated law
school?”

“I went to Stanford just like my dad.” He
laughed and shook his head. “The look on
your face right now is priceless, Scarlett.”

“I’m sorry, this—it’s just not what I
would have guessed. You strike me more
as a football player, a surfer—one of
those guys who was always throwing a
party in high school and running the frat
house in college.”

“Jeez, thanks.” His eyes lit on hers again.
“I’m glad to know you think so highly of
me.”

“It’s not that.” She blushed. “I just mean

—”

“I know what you mean. It’s okay, I get
it.” He sighed. “And I was a jock. I played
football—captain my junior and senior
year. I also carried a solid 4.0 GPA and
was Homecoming King. Your typical rich,
entitled white boy from California.”

Scarlett shook her head. “I’m still in
shock.”

“Yeah, well join the club. So is everyone
else in my family. Nobody saw it coming
when I dropped out of law school.”

She fiddled with the napkin in her lap,
still torn between wanting to know more
about this man and not wanting to scare

him away from this line of conversation.
“Do you mind me asking why?”

“Why I dropped out?”

She nodded.

He seemed about to answer, but before he
could, the waiter came bearing plates of
food. He asked if they needed anything
else, and Bryson ordered another bottle of
red.

When the waiter departed, the moment
seemed to have passed, and both of them
were quiet as they ate some of their food.
Finally, Bryson looked up at her.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Yeah. What’s your story?”

Scarlett wiped her lips with a napkin. Her
thoughts spun with possible answers.

“It’s a very long story,” she told him.

His expression grew quizzical. “We’re
not in any rush.”

She thought about just how much she
wanted to divulge, and whether she
wanted to risk somehow disappointing
him or depressing both of them. “Just think
about your own life and make everything
opposite—and then you’ll know what my
childhood was like.”

His brow creased. “You played soccer?”

Scarlett laughed. “Not quite what I
meant.”

“I take it you didn’t come from a family of
wealthy attorneys.”

“No. Very much not attorneys. I’ve been
working since I was fifteen. I was living
on my own when I was sixteen.”

He gave a slight nod of understanding, but
didn’t say anything. Scarlett appreciated
this. On the rare occasions that she talked
about her past, people were quick to say
they were sorry, or that it must have been
rough. And while she appreciated these
sentiments, sometimes they didn’t seem

genuine, but more like the person saying
them was merely reciting a line.

“I don’t even know my father. My mother
is remarried and I have two half-sisters
that I almost never speak to.” She averted
her eyes at this last part, not wanting to
see the sympathy in his eyes.

“Now I’m the one who’s surprised,” he
said. But there was no trace of judgment in
his voice. “I didn’t expect to hear any of
that from you.”

“Sorry.” She picked at her risotto. “I
guess my story’s not really light reading.”

He leaned forward suddenly and his eyes
flashed with quiet intensity. “Hey, I don’t

need you to have a happy story.”

Scarlett found that she wanted to cry—
could feel her eyes tearing up. It must be
the wine, she decided. “Thanks for saying
that.”

He reached across the table and took her
hand. His skin was surprisingly soft, and
his hand was so big that it enveloped hers.
Her breath caught in her throat. She
wanted him to hold her hand. More than
that, she wanted him to hold her body, to
tell her it was okay. And if he started to
kiss her, and his hands were strong and
held her tightly, that would be even better.

But then the distant part of herself
reasserted its existence, with an emphatic

shock to her system. A jolt of fear went up
her spine as she realized how close she
was to crossing the line with him.

She pulled her hand back slowly and
shook her head. “Sorry,” she said. “You
shouldn’t have to be comforting me. It’s
not professional of me.”

He leaned back, like he was going to
protest. But then he just nodded. “You’re
right.” He laughed. “Sorry. I’m the one
who should know better. I just pictured
you as this fifteen-year-old kid, taking
everything on your shoulders and working
and having to grow up fast. It made me
want to comfort you, somehow.”

And I want you to comfort me. Ask to

hold my hand again and I’ll say yes.

“You don’t have to apologize,” she said.

They fell into silence, and finished the
meal not long after. Scarlett felt badly
about the way it had ended, as if she’d
missed an opportunity to truly connect
with Bryson.

As they left the dining room, he talked at
length about how hopeful he was that they
could convince the owner to let them use
the hotel in their film.

“I’m going to tell him that it’s a central
character in the movie,” Bryson said. “I
mean, it’s a stretch, but not that much of a
stretch.”

They walked back down the long hallway
together. Scarlett couldn’t stop imagining
the two of them holding hands, together
under different circumstances. Here for a
weekend away, laughing and talking and
looking forward to going back to the
room, where it would be a certainty that
they’d soon feel one another’s warm, bare
skin and she could almost taste Bryson’s
salty lips against her own.

When they arrived at their room on the
second floor, Bryson turned to her and
asked if she was ready for the big reveal.

“I’ve never been more ready.”

He laughed and inserted his key, opened
the door. The room was smaller than

expected, with a canopy over the bed, an
old looking television set and ancient
wallpaper.

It was very intimate, and both of them
grew a little uncomfortable as they
surveyed the space.

“So…I don’t think there’s a lot of room to
crash on the floor,” he said.

“Oh, that’s…nobody has to sleep on the
floor. It’s hardwood. It would be awful.”

“You sure?” he said, looking at her
evenly.

She felt her nipples stiffen and her breath
catch again in her chest as his gaze

seemed to pierce her through and through.
“I’m sure.”

He dropped his computer bag and
yawned. “Damn, it’s just hitting me how
tired I am.”

“Me too,” she lied. In actuality it felt like
all of her senses were jumping and alive.
She was excited, much too excited for her
own good.

“Mind if I use the bathroom first?” he
asked her.

“Not at all.”

“Hey, would you mind calling down and
seeing if they could bring us up a couple

of toothbrushes and toothpaste?”

“Sure.”

She was back to the one-word responses
again.

Bryson smiled and went into the
bathroom. When the door shut, she
exhaled with relief. Every fiber of her
was fluttering with aliveness, attraction so
intense that it completely undid her. She
hadn’t felt this way in a very long time,
maybe since the first time she’d laid eyes
on Hunter.

But even Hunter hadn’t ever quite had this
effect on her. Hunter had been so damaged
and miserable when she’d first met him

that it had blunted some of his appeal.

Whereas Bryson was growing on her in a
way that she’d never anticipated upon first
meeting.

He had layers.

And the way he’d looked at her when he’d
said that he didn’t need her to have a
happy story….

It gave her chills, just remembering it.

She got on the phone to the front desk, and
they said someone would be up with the
toiletries in a moment.

After hanging up, she sat down on the bed

and tried to gather her thoughts. What was
she going to wear to sleep in?

She couldn’t wear her clothes to bed,
because they’d end up filthy and smelly
the next morning. Scarlett wrinkled her
nose.

After debating about it, she decided just to
wear her bra and panties. She would wait
until the light was off before stripping
down, and then she’d make sure to wrap
the blanket around her so that Bryson
couldn’t inadvertently touch her bare skin.

Why don’t you just sleep naked while
you’re at it?

The thought had a distinct appeal. Scarlett

wished she were drunker, because than all
of this would have been so much easier.

Someone knocked at the door not long
after that, and she opened it to find an
older, round-faced woman bringing the
requested toiletries.

Scarlett thanked her and took them, making
sure to give her a generous tip before
closing the door again.

Then she went to the bathroom door and
knocked twice. Seconds later, Bryson
opened the door wearing just his boxers.

She tried not to act as surprised as she
was. He, on the other hand, seemed totally
comfortable with his lack of clothing.

“Thanks, Scarlett,” he said, grabbing the
things from her stiff hands. “You’re the
best,” he winked. Then he spun and she
got a distinct look at his sculpted behind
and chiseled back as he shut the door
behind him.

It closed and she stepped back from the
bathroom, the image of his muscular,
semi-nude body still vivid in her mind.

She waited, not knowing what to do with
herself while he readied for bed in the
other room.

Eventually he came out, still clothed only
in his shorts, carrying his clothes in his
hands and placing them on top of the
antique bureau by the window. “Your

turn,” he said, gazing outside.

“Huh?” She was still staring at his toned,
perfect body. His abs were like something
out of a magazine. He was wiry but strong,
and she could almost feel his hands on
her, caressing, the way his chest would
feel pressing down on hers.

He turned from the window and looked at
her. It was obvious that she’d been staring
at his body.

Scarlett averted her gaze.

“You can use the bathroom now,” he said,
smirking.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks.” She went to the

bathroom and brushed her teeth, washed
her face, and then emerged.

Bryson was in bed, waiting, arms behind
his head, watching her. “You’re sleeping
in your clothes?”

“Could you turn your light off?” she asked,
by way of answering.

He made a nonchalant face. “Sure.” Then
he leaned over and turned off the lamp by
his bedside.

There was still a lamp on in the corner of
the room. Scarlett walked quickly over
and turned it off. Now the room was
bathed in darkness, but for the moonlight
streaming in through the one window.

Scarlett used that light to navigate back to
the bed. When she got to her side, she
quickly took off her clothes and put them
down on a chair nearby. She was in
nothing but her bra and panties, and she
was anxious that Bryson could see as
much.

Part of her was also hoping he could see
as much.

Scarlett quickly slid into bed, covering
her body and immediately trying to use the
blanket to create a barrier between her
and Bryson.

She heard him rustling next to her. “I know
this is awkward, Scarlett.”

“It’s fine,” she lied.

“Would you feel better if I moved to the
floor?”

“You don’t need to do that.” She jerked
the covers towards her, trying to wrap
herself more tightly.

“Hey, what are you doing?” he laughed.

“I need more blanket.”

“Now I’ve barely got any covers on me.”
He pulled some of the blanket away from
her.

“Hey, stop it.” She tugged again.

Now they were fighting over the covers.
“Scarlett, knock it off. Just share the
stupid blanket with me. There’s enough
for everyone.”

“No, there isn’t. And I need it more than
you do.”

“Why?”

“Because.” She wouldn’t answer that on
the grounds that it might incriminate her.

“Fine, you want to play this game?” he
said.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Okay. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She wrapped as much of the blanket
around herself as possible, and then lay
her

head

on

the

pillow,

smiling

contentedly. She was in a nice little
cocoon now, just as she’d intended.

Suddenly, Bryson grabbed the blanket and
yanked it hard. The entire cover was
whisked away, as if by magic. Now she
was absolutely bare, out in the open, and
Bryson had the blanket all to himself.

“Hey, what the hell!” she yelled.

He chuckled. “I warned you, Scarlett.”

It was dark enough in the room that she
couldn’t see his face or his expression,
and she realized that he probably didn’t

even have a clue just how scantily clad
she was right now.

“Give it back, Bryson.”

“No.”

“I’m serious.” She leaned across the bed
and tried to pry some of the blanket away
from him, but he had it in a death grip.

“Goodnight,

Scarlett.”

He

sighed

contentedly.

“Fine, you want to play this game?” she
said, using his own words against him.

“I don’t even know what you’re talking
about,” he said cheerfully.

Scarlett found that her inhibitions were
quickly fading. Maybe it was the lack of
light in the room, or the wine, or the fact
that she was tired—maybe mostly it was
how much she was enjoying Bryson’s
playfulness in bed.

Whatever it was, she decided that she was
going to take things up a notch. She was
going to get that stupid blanket off of him,
whatever the cost. So she pounced.

Jumping on top of Bryson, she straddled
him and grabbed the top of the blanket.

Then she pulled with all of her weight.

It started to come loose. She pulled
harder.

“Are you insane?” he shouted.

“I told you I was serious,” she said.

“You’re seriously insane.”

“I’m getting this blanket. And I’m going to
keep it all to myself.”

She could feel him beneath her, moving,
his body warm and strong. The only thing
between them was this blanket. Scarlett
realized that she was getting very, very
turned on.

This struggle, this physicality with a man
—she craved it like air to breathe.

Bryson grabbed her wrists tightly. “You

need to chill,” he said.

“No.” She fought against his strong, firm
grip.

“Scarlett…” he said, holding her.

She struggled harder, building up a sweat,
grinding her pelvis into him, feeling her
sexual excitement grow and grow. She
wanted to ride him, wanted to feel his
hardness against her, rubbing her.

Suddenly, he rose up, like a lion—easily
sweeping her onto the bed. She was on her
back now and Bryson was on top of her,
and the blankets were cast aside, forgotten
by both of them.

“Why are you acting like this?” he said,
still holding her wrists.

“Don’t ask stupid questions.” She tried to
wiggle away.

He pressed his weight down on her,
forced her arms up over her head. She
wrapped her legs around him and hooked
them together around his waist. He
smelled clean, like soap, and his body
was hard and heat poured off him. She
could feel Bryson’s breath on her cheek.

Their bodies were pressed together, both
of their chests heaving from the exertion.

In the semi-darkness, she could just make
out his eyes.

He grinded his pelvis against hers, very
slowly, and she moaned softly. She could
feel him now—feel all of him. He was
excited too, very excited.

She liked having him on top of her,
controlling her. Surprisingly, it was as if
he knew exactly what she wanted and
needed, without her having to say a word.
He let go of one wrist and slowly
caressed her hair, softly, and then
wrapping his hand in her hair, he pulled.

She let out a gasp and tightened her legs
around his waist. He let go of her other
wrist now and put his hand in her hair.
With both hands, he pulled her hair and
then his mouth was on hers, intensely

kissing her with a passion that blew her
away.

She kissed him fully, not holding anything
back at all. His kiss was sweet and salty,
intense and loving, his lips caressing hers
with a seemingly intimate knowledge of
what she wanted and needed.

Her breathing was faster and faster, and
she was moaning from deep in her throat.

Bryson was bringing out something new,
something that freed her up completely.
She wanted his hands on all of her bare
skin, holding her breasts, her legs,
touching her most private spaces.

For now, though, he did none of those

things. His hands were entwined in her
hair, pulling, sometimes more forcefully,
sometimes less.

She was wet. Startlingly wet.

He was moving against her, his cock
pressing, pressing forcefully. She opened
to him, wishing he would pull her panties
off and slip into her. She wouldn’t dare
stop him—in fact, she would do it herself
if she dared face the rejection.

She felt his chest, and then his muscular
back, as his tongue entered her mouth
again and again, telling her something
about how he would enter her in other
ways.

She moaned again and again. God, she
was going to come and they’d barely even
done anything yet.

Was she that pent up or was Bryson that
good?

She thought she knew the answer.

“Scarlett,” he said, breaking off his kiss.

“Yes?”

“I’m not sure what we’re doing here.”

“Me either.”

“Maybe we should stop,” he said.

“Maybe.”

He caressed her cheek softly. “God, you
taste good.”

She smiled. “Then what are you waiting
for?” she asked, feeling his chest again.

He grabbed her wrists and forced her
arms back to the bed again. “I don’t
know,”

he whispered. And then he leaned in and
began kissing between her breasts, kissing
her bare skin that the bra didn’t cover.
Soon he was licking her nipples over her
bra. It was the lacy kind of bra and he was
sucking her nipples through it.

“Oh my God,” she gasped. “I—I think I
might come.”

“No, you won’t,” he commanded, his
voice dark and husky. “Not unless I say
so.”

Her breath caught in her throat. How
could he know about this—about her
desire to be controlled in bed? It was as if
he was reading her mind.

“I need to come,” she whined.

“You can hold off,” he said.

“Why should I?”

“Because I said so.” His voice was firm

and demanding that she follow his
instructions.

She moaned louder as he went back to
sucking her nipples, while holding her
down. Her legs flailed as her hips arched
into him.

He let go of one wrist and grabbed her by
the back of her head. Then he was kissing
her again, deeply. More deeply than
before, if such a thing was possible.

She met his kiss with ferocity. She wanted
him—wanted him to take her now.

She was ready, ready to have him inside
her.

“Bryson—” she gasped.

“Say it,” he told her. His lips were against
hers, just brushing them, his breath
meeting her breath, his warmth burning her
with its intensity.

“Bryson, please. I need you.”

“Tell me more.” He bit her lower lip
playfully and then released it.

“I want you inside me, Bryson.”

“Then beg me like you’ve never begged
before.”

Scarlett was losing control now. She
knew this whole thing was twisted beyond

belief and a distant part of her was
protesting, reminding her of all her
promises to keep things between them
professional.

But the way she felt right now—none of
that mattered. She needed him—she
wanted him. She would do anything to
have him.

“Please fuck me, Bryson.” The words
came out of her mouth unbidden,
unexpected in their raw, unfettered
honesty. Perhaps it was all the years of
training, all the years of BDSM she’d
practiced that completely took down her
defenses when a strong man was
controlling her.

“Why should I fuck you?”

“Because. I’ll do anything you say.”

“Tell me what you’ll do,” he said, his
voice low and tempting against her ear
now.

“I’ll be so warm and wet for you,” she
promised. “I’ll take you in and I’ll be tight
around your cock, like a glove. I’ll make
you come, I’ll let you fuck me all night
long.”

“That’s good,” he said, and as he spoke,
he slid his hard cock back and forth
against her dripping wet panties.

She gasped and shuddered against him, as

a ripple of something resembling a climax
wracked her entire body. She closed her
eyes. She needed to do something or she
was going to really come—have an
obvious, over-the-top orgasm—right now.
The

thought

of

it

was

horribly

embarrassing. To lose control so easily
was a symbol of failure.

She’d spent years as a submissive woman,
and her body was trained to obey the man
who controlled her in bed.

And yet here she was, unable to hold back
from having a climax when nothing was
really even happening yet.

Just then, a passing car’s headlights struck
the window, illuminating part of the room.

As Bryson leaned down and kissed her
chest, she saw the butterfly tattoo on his
shoulder blade lit up as if by a camera
flash.

She reached out and ran her fingers over it
softly, trying to distract herself from her
desire.

She felt his body stiffen as the room faded
into darkness again. “What are you
doing?”

“I just noticed your tattoo. It’s beautiful.”

He sat up, his heat drawing away as he
withdrew his body from hers. “Thanks.”

He grew quiet, sitting now on the edge of

the bed.

Scarlett felt as if she’d been slapped. Why
was he moving away? Was it because of
his tattoo? “Is it something personal?” She
felt the hole she was digging grow deeper.
“Is it something you don’t want to talk
about? Because we don’t have to --”

“Scarlett,

please

stop

asking

me

questions.”

“I’m sorry. I …I didn’t mean to make
things weird,” she said. She suddenly felt
cold and alone and confused, as if waking
from a spell.

“You didn’t.” He rubbed his face and
sighed. “I’m just tired, I think.”

She could tell he was lying. “Maybe we
should go to sleep then.”

“Yeah.” He moved to grab the blankets
and pulled them back onto the bed. “I think
we’re both just exhausted.”

Scarlett felt a wave of self-pity and
disappointment nearly overwhelm her.
Don’t speak for me, she thought. I’m not
tired at all.

A minute later, Bryson was lying still next
to her and Scarlett was staring up at the
ceiling, her eyes filled with tears. She
wondered what exactly had happened.

Perhaps, she thought, it was her own
discomfort that had spurred Bryson to

withdraw.

Or maybe it was her question about his
tattoo that he found so intrusive.

Maybe he simply took a long enough
pause in the action to have a moment of
regret about what they’d done.

All Scarlett knew was that she was having
difficulty sleeping.

She drifted off eventually, but woke again
perhaps an hour or two later, and this time
she was unable to fall back asleep again.

She got up and went to the bathroom,
decided to take a shower. Why not? She
didn’t want to just sit in that room, in that

bed, next to Bryson after everything that
had happened that night.

It was frightening how close she’d felt to
him, how excited and turned on he’d made
her. It was as if he understood everything
she’d been through and needed without her
ever having to tell him.

That was different.

Scarlett stood under the hot water and let
the warmth soak into her skin. Bryson had
been warm, too. She’d enjoyed the
warmth of his body more than any man
she’d ever been with.

How was that possible?

She just couldn’t come to grips with how
quickly she’d fallen for him. But even
with her eyes closed in the shower, she
was haunted by his smile, his eyes, the
way he’d touched her. All of it kept
running through her mind on an endless
loop that she was powerless to stop.

And in the end, he’d so clearly rejected
her and decided that it wasn’t worth
pursuing.

The water began to grow cold, and
Scarlett stepped out of the shower and
wrapped herself in the hotel’s bathrobe.

When she went back into the room, she
left a crack of light from the bathroom as
she sat and used a towel to continue

drying her hair. Bryson was an unmoving
lump in the bed, and she could
occasionally hear his deep breathing.

He was sleeping easily, as if nothing had
happened at all between them.

It made her angry and sad and frustrated
all at once. Why was she always the one
feeling things?

After a time, she grew restless. Looking
down at his computer bag, she saw it was
partially open and a sheaf of paper was
sticking out. At first, she ignored it, but
then she grew curious enough to take the
papers out and look at them.

It was the script.

She hadn’t seen it before, and it was
somehow impressive with its dog-eared
pages and scribbled notes in the margins.

It was Bryson’s handwriting. The whole
thing was marked up.

She wanted to read it, and besides—she
had nothing to do and sleep was an
impossibility at this point. And hadn’t he
mentioned that he was going to let her
read his copy at some point?

So Scarlett went back into the bathroom
and sat on the toilet and read Bridge and
Tunnel from start to finish. She loved it.
She loved the story and the characters and
the fact that Bryson’s wry humor and
intelligence was laced throughout all of

the description and dialog.

Even more, she loved his little notes, his
musings about various scenes, character
motivations, pieces of dialog that needed
changing.

When she was done, the sky was just
beginning to show the first signs of light.

She tiptoed back to his bag and slid the
script into it.

Then she decided to go downstairs and
grab some breakfast, assuming the
restaurant downstairs was open. If not,
maybe she’d find out if there was a coffee
shop nearby.

***

As it turned out, the dining room was open
for breakfast at six o’clock, and she was
literally the first one there.

They served it buffet style, and so she
loaded her plate down with bacon and
sausage and eggs, and then ordered a cup
of coffee.

While she was eating, people slowly
began filtering into the dining room; an old
man in a vest reading a newspaper, a
couple with their suitcases and bags, a
middle-aged guy wearing spectacles and a
suit, with a pleasant smile.

She smiled back at him as he went and got

himself a cup of coffee and a muffin.

Surprisingly, he approached her table.
“Mind if I join you a moment?” he said.

Scarlett didn’t know what to say at first.
But then she realized it might be nice to
have a chat after hours of sitting alone in
the bedroom with her thoughts. “Sure,”
she said. “I’m Scarlett.”

“I’m Ryan.”

“Nice to meet you, Ryan.”

He nodded, gently peeling the plastic skin
off his muffin. “So,” he began. “Are you
enjoying your stay here?”

Scarlett took a bite of bacon and shrugged.
“It’s a beautiful hotel. Unfortunately, I’m
here on business, so that takes some of the
fun out of it. I like the food. It’s hitting the
spot.”

Ryan sipped his coffee and smiled. “What
business are you here for, if you don’t
mind me asking?”

“Movies, if you can believe it.”

“Movies?” He looked perplexed.

Scarlett had a forkful of eggs. “I’m
working on a film and the director is
hoping to shoot some of it at this hotel.
Unfortunately,

there

was

a

miscommunication and it turns out we

didn’t get approval from the proper
channels.”

“Oh,” he nodded, as if only pretending to
understand. “Sounds frustrating.”

“It was. The woman at the front desk gave
us a pretty hard time about it, which was
kind of annoying. But I’m used to rude
people, since I waitressed most of my
life.”

“Did you now?” Ryan said.

“Sorry, I know I’m running on at the
mouth. I haven’t gotten enough sleep.”

“That’s unfortunate.” Ryan seemed to be
considering her words as he studied his

muffin, finally taking a small bite. “So
what’s next?” he said. “What are you
going to do about filming at the hotel?”

“Oh, we have a meeting to talk to the
owner later this morning.” She crossed
her fingers. “Wish me luck, I think we’re
going to need it.”

Ryan crossed his fingers. “I do wish you
luck.”

“So what about yourself?” Scarlett asked.
“What business are you in?”

“Well, this might sound funny, but actually
I’m in the hotel industry.”

“You are?” She cocked her head at him,

her stomach suddenly fluttering with
nervousness. “You don’t work here, do
you?”

He nodded with a wide smile. “As a
matter of fact, I do.”

She slapped her forehead. “Oh my God. I
am such an idiot.”

“Don’t worry, it’s my fault for not
properly introducing myself.” He held out
his hand to her. “My name is Ryan Singer
and I’m the owner of this hotel.”

Scarlett felt like she might faint. She took
his hand, but it seemed like someone else
was doing the moving of her body. She
was having an out-of-body experience.

“I’m sorry if I said anything rude.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you spoke
openly and honestly about your stay and
everything.”

She realized that Bryson was going to be
irate at her. She had blown his chance to
introduce himself and start fresh with the
owner. Instead, she’d gone ahead and
ruined everything by blabbering away
without thinking about what she was doing
or saying.

“Listen, give me a chance to tell you about
this movie,” she said.

Ryan adjusted his glasses. “I’ll listen,” he
said. “Mostly because seem like a sweet

girl.”

She blushed. “Thank you for saying that.”

He sat back in his chair and smoothed his
tie. “Okay, I’m all ears.”

Scarlett began telling him about the script.
Fresh off of reading it and enjoying it
herself, she felt a lot of passion about the
story. For the first time since being hired
to help Bryson, she actually had something
concrete to do—a way she could
contribute.

She had to get across to Ryan how good
this movie was going to be.

He listened calmly, politely, to her entire

speech. When she was done he smiled
approvingly. “That was well done,” he
said.

“Thank you.”

“How many days will you need to film in
our hotel?”

She hesitated. “I’m not sure. The director
is here, he can answer those questions.”

“The problem is, whenever a big
production shoots in the hotel, we have to
shut down for large periods of time and it
hurts our customers.”

“Did I mention that Dale Nolan and Eliza
Johnston are going to star in the movie?”

“They’re great actors,” he replied. “But…
I sort of promised myself I wouldn’t let
the hotel get dragged into another big film
shoot again.”

“It’s going to make your hotel look
wonderful. I can show you the script,” she
said, rushing to try and get him back on
her side. Then she remembered what
Bryson had said about the hotel being a
character in the movie. “The hotel is like
the third lead in the film. It’s a real
character in the movie—this movie could
do for your hotel, what Cheers did for the
bar in Boston.”

He laughed. “Really? This is going to be
the next Cheers? That’s what you’re

promising me now?”

“I’m just—I really believe in this movie.
And I think your hotel is lovely.”

Ryan sighed. And then he looked her in the
eye. “Okay, here’s my answer.”

***

When Scarlett got back to the hotel room,
Bryson was in the shower. She waited
anxiously for him to come out of the
bathroom. She was nervous for any
number of reasons. First of all, because of
what they’d done the night before. And
secondly, because of her conversation
with the owner of the hotel.

Bryson finally walked out of the bathroom
wearing just his towel around his waist.
His body was still damp and glistening
from the shower.

Scarlett had to avert her eyes. His
muscular frame and handsome face were
bringing back painfully exciting memories
that she didn’t want to think about right
now.

Memories she might never want to think
about again, given how things had gone at
the end of the night.

“Hey, where have you been?” he said,
running a hand through his wet hair. He
stood in front of her, unabashed in his near
nakedness.

“I was having breakfast.”

“You could have waited for me,” he said,
sounding annoyed. He walked to where
his clothes were folded and picked them
up, turning his back to her so that the
butterfly tattoo was momentarily visible.

She hated that tattoo now. She hated that
her asking him about it had ruined their
night and what was happening between
them.

“I was up early,” she said, “and I didn’t
want to wake you.”

He glanced at her. “It’s a free country.”

Silence. She sighed, her hands twisting

nervously together. “I ended up talking to
this guy. Well, actually he came and sat
down with me.”

Bryson straightened and looked at her, his
expression like stone. “That’s really great
for you, it sounds like you had a nice
time.”

“Don’t be like that.”

“Don’t be like what?”

She groaned with frustration. “Like this.”
She waved her hands at him, unable to
even speak to express what he was doing.

He sighed. “I don’t know what you want
me to say, Scarlett.”

“Listen, the guy I talked to at breakfast—”

“I really don’t care about the guy you had
breakfast with.”

“He’s the owner of the hotel.”

“What?” He turned and faced her fully.
“Are you serious?”

“I didn’t know. I had no idea until after I’d
already told him why I was staying at the
hotel and everything.”

Bryson put his hands on his hips and his
jaw set. “Okay, well—what the hell did
he say when you told him?”

Scarlett allowed herself a tiny smile. “He

said that he’d already decided in advance
not to have any more films here—until he
saw my face, and my enthusiasm, and he
just couldn’t resist.”

“What?”

“He said he’d let us film here, Bryson.”
She exhaled, relieved to finally get it all
out.

Bryson’s face broke into a smile, all
traces of the tension that had just been
permeating the room gone. He looked at
her and shook his head, like he couldn’t
believe she’d been able to do something
like that. “Scarlett, I don’t know whether
to fire you or promote you.”

Or kiss me, she thought. A kiss would be
best of all.

“You could thank me,” she said. She
loved the way he was looking at her, with
admiration and a little bit of awe.

“Thank you,” he said.

His eyes looked into hers and she felt like
she would do anything if they could just
lie down in bed together and be close, and
talk, mouth-to-mouth and ear-to-ear. She
wanted his strong hands to caress her
cheeks, to show her the affection he’d
shown just last night.

Finally, Scarlett broke away from his
gaze, looking down. She found the

owner’s business card in her pocket and
handed it to Bryson. “He wants you to call
him in the next few days to arrange all of
the details.”

Bryson shook his head. “I can’t believe he
said yes without even knowing what the
movie’s about.”

“I told him about the movie.”

“But you hardly know anything about the
movie.”

She shifted her feet. “Well, that’s not
completely true. I kind of sort of read the
script last night. I—I saw it in your bag
and I was awake and…”

“So you read my script and pitched it to
the hotel owner while I was asleep?” he
said. “Man—you’re either the best
assistant of all time, or the absolute worst.
I’m still not sure.” He turned and went
back to the bathroom, carrying his clothes.

***

The train ride back to New York was
strange and quiet. Scarlett tried to
apologize for reading the script without
asking, and talking to the hotel owner
without Bryson being around.

He told her not to worry, but she was
worried.

Things had gotten strange between them

and she hated it. Last night they’d
seemingly gotten close, maybe closer than
she’d ever felt with a man before.

Worse, the quick moment of normalness
they’d had when she’d told him about
getting permission to film at the hotel had
evaporated and now it seemed as if they
were further apart than they’d been at the
very beginning.

Scarlett only wished she could feel the
same sense of annoyance with him that
she’d felt when they’d first met. That had
been easy. She was struck by the irony of
it --hating Bryson was easy, but liking him
was horrible.

When they parted ways at Grand Central,

she started to walk away without even
saying goodbye. They were on thin ice and
she didn’t want to make anything worse by
asking him questions.

But Bryson called out to her and she
stopped and looked at him.

“We have auditions for secondary
characters the day after tomorrow,” he
said.

“Oh,” she replied.

What is it about him that brings out the
monosyllabic responses in me? she
wondered. Never before had she been so
tongue-tied.

“I think it would be great if you sat in on
the auditions with me and took notes.

Maybe after it’s over we can discuss over
coffee or something.”

Relief flooded her body. She was going to
see him again soon. “That sounds good,”
she said, hoping she didn’t sound too
eager.

He nodded and grinned, then shook his
head as if he still couldn’t quite get over
everything that had gone on in the last day
and a half. “See you then.”

She watched him turn and walk away,
wondering why a few kind words from
him could make her feel like she would

just float away with joy.

Maybe there was still hope, she thought.

***

Lydia called her twice that afternoon and
Scarlett ignored it.

She was exhausted, having slept maybe a
couple of hours at most the night before.

She fell into her bed and, despite her
buzzing thoughts, was soon fast asleep.

There were only shadows of dreams, half-
remembered as she swam out of her deep
unconsciousness.

Bryson’s face smiling—hot kisses all over
her body—the moans and cries of two
bodies experiencing passion. Those were
the stuff of fever dreams.

Scarlett wiped at her face and eyes, trying
to rouse herself. She was groggy and it
was now almost dark out. Her phone said
there were two missed calls, both from
Lydia.

There was one voicemail.

She stared at it and thought: I’ve created a
monster.

But

maybe

not.

Maybe

she

was

overreacting. After all, Lydia had kept her
mouth shut and given Scarlett the contract

she’d found, when she could just as easily
have told everyone within earshot.

Give her the benefit of the doubt.

Scarlett put the phone to her ear and
listened to Lydia’s message.

“Hey, bestie!” Lydia’s overly chipper
voice cried into Scarlett’s eardrum, nearly
piercing it. “Just thought I’d call and
check in, see what you’re up to. Probably
something exciting with your movie. Are
you and Bryson Taylor hanging out with
Dale Nolan and Eliza Johnston? Well…
don’t forget about little old me.”

Scarlett almost smiled. But then Lydia
said one last thing.

“And don’t forget your promise, either.”

As the line went dead, Scarlett’s near
smile faded completely.

She stood up and went to her window,
looked outside at the New York City
street and the people bustling by outside.
There was such an energy in this city, and
sometimes it made her feel like she was
really doing something important, just by
being here.

Sometimes she felt so connected to this
world, and even more so now that she was
working on this film with Bryson.

It was romantic and exciting and she never
wanted it to end.

But then, she couldn’t help but dwell on
the past, and the way it always tended to
repeat itself. No matter how hard she
tried, Scarlett couldn’t get away from
these situations where she inevitably
became intertwined with volatile people
who blew up in various ways.

They would implode and take her down
with them.

Was Lydia going to be yet another
example in a long line of ticking time
bombs that would go off and destroy
Scarlett’s hopes and dreams in one
instant?

Scarlett and Kallie weren’t close enough
to survive this kind of disaster. If Lydia

embarrassed and humiliated Kallie now,
Scarlett would end up taking some of the
blame, even though she’d been trying to
protect Kallie.

But perhaps it had been a mistake to try
and diffuse the Lydia situation. Scarlett
didn’t want to have to placate Lydia and
live in fear of what this girl might do in
the future.

Staring out the window was getting her
nowhere. She didn’t know if she’d call
Lydia back or not, but right now she just
wanted to forget about the whole thing.

So Scarlett went and ate some cold, two-
day old pizza and watched TV. Then she
went online and read some of the gossip

about Bridge and Tunnel.

The movie was starting to hit the tabloids,
especially after the brawl at the club had
been reported in The Post. A whole slew
of online bloggers and sites had repeated
the gossip and now regular people were
starting to take interest in the project.

Scarlett didn’t know if it was a good or
bad thing, but Bryson’s picture was
circulating the Internet and there were
message boards discussing his looks and
the black eye he got and his status as a
first-time writer/director of such a big
budget Hollywood film.

As she sat on her computer, scanning
through all of the various websites,

Scarlett experienced a growing sense of
unease mingled with excitement.

This movie was going to be talked about
and eventually one day they might know
her name as well as Bryson’s. Probably
not, as she was just his assistant—but if
they ever started seeing one another…

And that’s when Scarlett shut her
computer off. She knew that fantasizing
about a relationship with Bryson was just
wrong.

Whatever had happened between them the
previous evening was just a mistake, and
it was for the best that they’d stopped
before it had gone too far.

But as she continued to think about
Bryson, despite knowing that there was no
sense in it, Scarlett finally had the thought:

Was it possible that things between her
and Bryson had already gone too far?

***

The morning of the auditions, Scarlett was
up early, dressed in a sensible black
pencil skirt, fitted red blouse and black
high heels. As she put on subtle gold eye
shadow and clear lip gloss, she couldn’t
help but wonder if Bryson would think she
looked smart and sexy.

Once she was fully dressed and everything
was in place, Scarlett grabbed her purse,

slid her notebook into it, and then and
walked outside the apartment and began
walking to the train station.

She smoked a cigarette quickly as she
walked at a fast pace.

Not thirty seconds after leaving the
building, she heard a voice calling her
from behind. The voice was familiar, and
yet instinctively, something inside Scarlett
said,

“Run, just run. Get away from this
person. Pretend you didn’t hear them
call your name.”

But the voice was getting closer, and
louder, and more insistent.

“Scarlett? Scarlett? Hey!”

Unable to pretend any longer, Scarlett
turned in time to find Lydia walking
towards her.

“Lydia,” she said, forcing a smile on her
face and trying to pretend she was glad to
see her. “What are you doing here?”

“There’s a great little breakfast place
down the street. I was actually on my way
to eat. I had no idea you lived in the area!”

Scarlett could tell Lydia was lying, but
decided to ignore it. She was clearly
dealing with a stage five clinger, and one
who had blackmail material on top of it.

“What a coincidence,” Scarlett smiled.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t get back to you yet,
I’ve just been so busy.”

Lydia laughed maniacally and waved her
apology off. “Don’t be silly. I know you’d
have called me back if you could.”

“Thanks for understanding.”

There was an awkward pause. Lydia
flipped her hair. “So, what are you doing
now? Something fun and exciting, I bet.”

“Not really.” Scarlett tried to think of a
good lie. “I’m just meeting Bryson for
some movie stuff.”

“Auditions, right?”

Scarlett thought about lying, but if Lydia
really did have information, she didn’t
want to risk getting on her bad side.
“Yeah.” She rolled her eyes, like the
auditions were going to be boring. “How
did you know?”

Lydia grinned. “A little birdie told me.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to be late for
them. So I’ll call you tomorrow or the next
day and we can maybe set up a time to
hang out?” Scarlett asked, taking the last
drag from her cigarette and dropping it to
the cement.

Lydia watched it fall, and wrinkled her
nose, like she thought the fact that Scarlett
smoked was disgusting. But then her

delicate features arranged themselves into
a bright smile. “Or maybe we could hang
out now,” Lydia said. “I’ve got time. I
don’t have to go to breakfast.”

Scarlett just stared at her, unsure if Lydia
was joking or not. “How can we hang out
now? I’ve got—”

“Auditions, I know.” Lydia smiled
sweetly. “You can bring me with you. Just
like you promised me you would.
Remember?”

“I said I’d include you whenever possible,
but I’m nobody, Lydia. I can’t just invite
you to these auditions. I’m barely invited
myself.”

Lydia’s eyes narrowed. She took a deep
breath, looking down momentarily.

When she looked back up at Scarlett, there
was a frightening intensity in her gaze.

“Scarlett, I’ve really tried to be nice to
you. I gave you that hideous contract and
agreed to lie for you, because you asked
me to. Of course I still desperately want to
tell Sean and the rest of the world what a
fraud Hunter Reardon is, and how he’s
sexually

subjugating

Kallie

when

everyone else thinks he’s such a hero and
prince.” She shuddered. “I mean, he’s
kind of committing a crime against her.
It’s like sexual… slavery or something.”

“Hold on a second—”

“But I’m keeping quiet, because we’re
friends,” Lydia interrupted. Her eyes told
a different story. Her eyes were absolutely
threatening. “The thing is, I’m starting to
wonder if we really are friends. I mean, I
call you and you never call me back. You
blow me off.”

“I’m not blowing you off.”

“And if you aren’t my friend, I don’t see
why I should keep my mouth shut about
what a whore Kallie is and what a pig
Hunter Reardon is. I think maybe her
family should be made aware.”

Scarlett felt nauseous. “Just let me make a
quick call and see if you can come with
me, okay?”

Lydia brightened. “Sure. You pull some
strings, girl.”

Scarlett nodded, half-grimacing as she
took her cell out of her purse and turned
away to make the most embarrassing call
of her life.

A moment later, Kallie answered the line.
“Hey, stranger.”

“Hey,” Scarlett replied.

“Everything okay? You’re coming to the
auditions today?”

“I am. And that’s what I wanted to talk to
you about. See, I ran into Lydia just now
and she was hoping to tag along to the

auditions with me if possible.”

“You mean Sean’s Lydia?”

“Yup.” Scarlett turned and glanced back at
Lydia, who smiled and gave a big thumb’s
up.

Kallie was silent for a long time. “I really
can’t imagine why you would think that’s
appropriate, Scarlett.”

“Well…it would be such a cool...like a
favor to me…” her voice trailed off,
because she couldn’t find the words. The
embarrassment was killing her.

“Is she pressuring you to bring her with
you?” Kallie asked.

“Maybe just a bit.” Scarlett bit her lip.
She needed another cigarette ASAP.

“Listen, you just have to tell her no.
There’s nothing for her to do here. I mean,
this is a professional audition for a multi-
million dollar film. It’s not like we’re
going clubbing or something.”

“I understand. But maybe she could just
come and hang out in the waiting room?”

“Scarlett, you’re putting me in a very
weird position.”

“I know. And I’m really sorry about that.”

“Give me a second. I need to talk to
Hunter. This is crazy.” And then it

sounded like Kallie dropped the phone.

Scarlett was beginning to sweat a little,
and her pulse was racing. This was like a
nightmare that wouldn’t end. Maybe she
really should just let Lydia go off and do
whatever damage she was going to do
now, and get it over with.

But then Kallie came back on the line.
“Fine, just bring her with you. She can
hang out in the waiting room, but only if
she promises to be quiet and leave
everyone alone to do their jobs.”

Scarlett breathed a huge sigh of relief.
“Thank you, Kallie. That’s awesome.”

“People are there to do a job, not to

entertain her. Tell her that, okay?”

“Okay.”

And then Kallie was gone and Scarlett
was hanging up the phone and digging out
another cigarette to calm her frayed
nerves.

Lydia walked closer. “So, what did she
say?”

Scarlett looked up. “She said, of course
you can come by.”

“It sounded like she didn’t want me to
come,” Lydia said, sounding suspicious.

“You only heard one side of the

conversation.”

“I could tell you stuck up for me,” Lydia
smiled. She put her hand on Scarlett’s
arm. “Thank you for being such a good
friend.”

“Come on, we better get a move on,”
Scarlett said, turning and walking again.

“This is so exciting!” Lydia squealed.

***

By the time they arrived at Hunter
Reardon’s production offices, Scarlett
thought she would rather throw Lydia out
the window than spend another second in
the woman’s company.

Lydia had talked nonstop during the entire
train ride, the walk to the offices, and
even up the elevator.

When they arrived in the main waiting
room, there was a receptionist who asked
their names and purpose for being there.

“We’re with the film,” Lydia said, tilting
her nose up.

The receptionist’s brow wrinkled. “In
what capacity?”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “We’re on the team.
We’re the ones who decide who gets cast
and who doesn’t.”

“And your names?”

“Lydia and Scarlett,” Lydia said.

Scarlett licked her lips. “I’m Bryson
Taylor’s assistant.”

“Oh, okay. Bryson’s already inside,” the
receptionist said, pointing behind her to an
open doorway.

“And I’m with her,” Lydia said, making as
if to follow Scarlett.

Scarlett turned. “I think you’re supposed
to wait out here for now.”

Lydia’s cheeks turned red. “Why would I
sit out here? There’s nobody even out
here. Am I supposed to make chitchat with
the receptionist like I’m waiting to have a

cavity filled?”

“Take it easy, Lydia.”

“I’m getting really fed up with this,
Scarlett.”

“Just relax out here for a little while. I’ll
make sure you meet Bryson and whoever
else you want to meet. But give me a
chance, okay?”

“Fine.” Lydia stalked over to a chair and
sat down heavily in it, her face petulant.

Scarlett went through the door and found
herself in a large room with a long desk
and a camera on a tripod, pointed towards
nothing in particular.

Sitting at the long desk were Bryson,
Hunter, Kallie and Barbara Woods from
Sony. Scarlett said hello to everyone and
sat down next to Bryson at the very end of
the desk.

He hardly acknowledged her, as he was
deep

in

conversation

with

Hunter

apparently. She pretended to write in her
notebook so she had something to do,
while she listened to them talk.

Hunter was paging through the script.
“The main issue isn’t really the second
act, though.”

“Of course it’s the second act,” Bryson
said.

“No, it’s the dialog.”

“I think it’s the second act.”

“You’ve gotten notes from at least three
different people on the dialog.”

Bryson folded his arms. “That’s not how I
read it.”

“Well, I’m not sure what you’re reading
then.”

“Of course I’ve tried to sharpen the
dialog, but I saw the main issue as being
the second act, and the fact that it drags a
little bit.”

“It does drag—because of the dialog

between the protagonists. When they’re
together, we need to see more spark
between them. Otherwise this thing isn’t
going to fly.”

“Won’t the actors bring the spark?”

“They’re actors, not miracle workers,”
Hunter said.

Bryson fell silent.

Scarlett felt the awkwardness of the
silence and wanted to fill it.

But she didn’t really have a chance.

A second later, the receptionist was at the
door to let them know that the first

appointments had arrived.

There was a flurry of activity. A camera
operator came in and sat down next to the
tripod and started prepping to record.
Kallie passed out headshots and resume
copies for the woman who was about to
audition.

Then the receptionist came back inside
with an African American woman who
was probably in her late twenties. She
was dressed in skinny jeans, a flowing
white shirt, with eye-catching earrings that
glinted in the lights and she had a huge,
infectious smile.

Hunter glanced at Bryson. “Let me take
this from here, since you’ve never done

this before.”

Bryson hesitated as if he didn’t agree, but
finally just nodded. “Be my guest.”

Scarlett tried to catch his eye to make sure
he was all right, but he wouldn’t look at
her.

Hunter stood up. “Hi, I’m Hunter Reardon
and I’m a Co-Executive Producer of
Bridge and Tunnel.”

The girl smiled brightly. “Pleased to meet
you.”

Hunter then went around the room and
introduced everyone else to her.

While he was doing the introductions,
Scarlett studied the woman’s resume. She
had been in a lot of stuff, including
commercials for Pepsi and Sony. She’d
done theatre on Broadway and some bit
parts in TV shows like Law and Order
and CSI.

“If you could just stand right there,”
Hunter said, pointing to a piece of tape on
the center of the floor just a few feet away
from the camera. “Stand on that mark, and
state your name and the role you’ll be
reading today.”

“Sure.” Again, she flashed that brilliant
smile, which Scarlett found positively
endearing. She liked this girl right away.

The woman walked to the mark and stood
looking at the camera. “Hi, my name’s
Jennifer Willis and I’ll be auditioning for
the role of Gabrielle.”

“Okay, action,” Hunter said.

Scarlett felt Bryson stiffen in the seat next
to her. And she thought she knew why he’d
reacted that way.

“Action” is what directors say.

She was afraid to even glance at him now,
and instead kept her eyes on the actress.

It was amazing to watch her transform.
She held a few pages from the script in
one hand and read from it, but frequently

enough she would look up from the script
and engage with an imaginary world
around her.

“You can’t honestly expect him to believe
in you when you don’t believe in
yourself,” Jennifer said to the room.

Barbara, from Sony, read lines of dialog
from her seat behind the desk. She
sounded bored and tired. “How can you
say I don’t believe in myself?”

Jennifer put her hands on her hips. “Just
look at the way you’ve doubted everything
from the beginning. Don’t you think you
deserve better than that?”

“Gabrielle, don’t you turn on me too,”

Barbara intoned, her voice inflectionless.

“I’m not turning on you, I’m trying to
smack some damn sense into you.”

“You don’t have the right—“

“I’m not going to let you sabotage
everything,” Jennifer said. Her eyes
flashed.

Scarlett found that she believed her. It was
amazing, she thought, that this woman
could act and give so much when the
woman playing the opposite role was
doing just about as little as humanly
possible in return.

They went on reading a little while longer.

“Thank you so much,” Hunter said, at a
certain point. “That was really, really
wonderful.”

“Thank you,” Jennifer replied, bowing her
head slightly. “It was an honor to be here
—I’m a big fan of your work,” she told
him.

“And you’re able to start almost
immediately if we do cast you for the
part?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay, Jennifer. Thanks, we’ll be in
touch.”

She smiled and waved and everyone

thanked her as she walked out. The door
closed.

“Well she was a bright ray of sunshine,”
Barbara

said,

smiling

through

her

enormous teeth.

No thanks to you, Scarlett thought.

“I thought she was sweet,” Kallie said.

“Yeah, she was pretty radiant and I bet
she’ll really pop on screen,” Hunter said.

He looked at Bryson. “Any thoughts?”

Bryson shrugged. “No.”

There was another awkward silence.

“What about you, Scarlett?” Kallie asked.

“Did you have any thoughts about
Jennifer?”

“I thought she was wonderful,” Scarlett
replied. “I mean, I’m new to all of this but
she captured me instantly with her smile.”

Hunter stood up. “Good. Let’s keep it
moving. I’ll see if we can bring in the next
actor.”

And so it began. Over the next couple of
hours, they saw perhaps a dozen more
actresses who read for the same role, and
said the same lines. Almost all of them
were adequate, but there were very few
who stood out from anyone else.

By the time they were getting ready to
break for lunch, Scarlett was finding it
difficult to care. She was starting to
realize how hard it was to cast a film, let
alone audition for people who had been
watching a steady stream of hopeful actors
for hours on end.

“My stomach’s rumbling,” Kallie said.

“Are we getting sandwiches, Hunter?”
Barbara asked.

“Should be here any minute,” Hunter said.
“Do we want to work through lunch and
try and get ahead of schedule, or—“

“I’d like us to break for half an hour,”
Bryson said.

Hunter looked at him. “Maybe just twenty
minutes.”

“I need to clear my head. I want to give
these people my full attention.”

“Then give them your full attention. We
don’t have time for a full half hour break.”

Bryson smirked. “Maybe we should just
skip eating entirely then. Let’s not have a
break or food. How does that sound?”

“Or we could have a sandwich while
someone auditions, and not make a federal
case out of it,” Hunter told him.

“That will feel really nice for the actor
who comes in and pours their heart and

soul out while we’re stuffing our faces
with chicken salad and potato chips.”

Hunter smiled. “Actually, there’s no
chicken salad—just turkey, ham or veggie
wraps.”

“Come on now, boys, we’re all tired,”
Kallie said, trying to lighten the mood.

“I’m not tired,” Bryson said.

“Then stop acting like a baby,” Hunter
leaned in and whispered.

Bryson stood up. “You know what, I need
to go to the bathroom. I’ll be back in a
minute.”

“Good idea,” Hunter said. “Let’s take
five, everyone.”

The entire group stood up and began
stretching as Bryson left the room. Kallie
walked over to where Hunter and Scarlett
were standing. Scarlett took a sip of
water.

“Is Bryson okay?” Kallie said, looking at
Scarlett.

“I don’t know. He seems a little edgy.”

“He’s just being a baby,” Hunter said,
shaking his head.

“Well, you might want to give him a little
more room to work,” Kallie said.

“You think I’m stepping on his toes?”

“Maybe just a little tiny bit,” Kallie
laughed. She touched him gently on his
arm and her moved closer to her.

“You know I’m a control freak.”

The two of them shared an intimate glance
that made Scarlett almost uncomfortable.

“Bryson is the director,” Kallie reminded
him.

Hunter nodded. “You’re right. That’s why
I love you.”

“That’s why? Because I’m right?”

“Because you’re always right.”

There was a knock on the door and then
the receptionist came in, looking slightly
frazzled. “Hi, sorry to disturb you all,”
she said.

“It’s fine, we’re taking a break,” Hunter
told her.

“Well, someone’s come in to audition that
I didn’t have on my list. But she’s very
insistent, and she says she’s a friend of
yours.”

Hunter glanced at Kallie. “Let me guess.
Is her name Danielle?”

The receptionist nodded. “Should I let her

in?”

Hunter ran a hand over his chin. “Kallie,
did you—“

“Don’t blame this on me. You know you
shouldn’t have told Kane Wright about
this.”

“She’s here with a whole entourage,” the
receptionist said. “At least three others
are accompanying her. I really—I don’t
know what to do here.”

“Just let them all in, it’s fine,” Hunter
sighed. “At least she came during lunch.”

Kallie laughed and shook her head in
disbelief.

Scarlett didn’t know what to think. She
knew even less when a group of about
four people came into the room, and
suddenly everyone was talking and making
introductions. It was the exact opposite of
the orderliness that had accompanied all
of the other auditions.

Kallie

brought

over

Danielle

and

introduced her to Scarlett. A stylist was
fussing with her hair as they said hello.

“So you’re the new girl?” Danielle said,
looking Scarlett up and down.

“I don’t know. I guess so.”

Bryson walked back in and came over as
they were talking. He looked confused and

annoyed.

“I’ve told you about Scarlett,” Kallie said
to Danielle.

“That’s right. She used to date Hunter,”
Danielle practically yelled, snapping her
fingers. “And the guy—the crazy guy—“

“Easy,” Kallie said. “Easy.”

Danielle

looked

at

Scarlett

again.

“You’ve got quite a history, don’t you?”

Scarlett held back her annoyance. “I think
we all have history.”

“How true, how true indeed,” Danielle
giggled.

Some people were now bringing a tray of
catered deli sandwiches and side dishes
into the room, creating even more havoc
and noise in the room.

Bryson was watching everything with an
unreadable expression. “What are we
doing?” he asked.

“My friend Danielle is going to audition
during lunch,” Kallie said.

“Oh, great,” he said, with faux excitement.
“Your friend’s auditioning. Glad to hear
that. I’ll go sit down and stuff my face.”
He walked back to the deli trays and
started loading up a plate.

“What’s his problem?” Danielle sniffed,

as her stylists tugged at her clothes and
hair.

“He’s just hungry,” Scarlett heard Kallie
saying.

Scarlett left them and walked over to
where Bryson was putting sandwiches
onto a plate by the trays of food.

“Hey,” she said, standing beside him now.

“Hey,” he mumbled, not looking at her.

“Are you upset with me?”

He glanced at her. “No. Why would I be?”

“I don’t know. But it seems like you are.”

He turned and held his plate as he looked
at her briefly. “Scarlett, I’ve got a lot
going on right now, in case you didn’t
notice. Not everything is about you.”

She hated the way he was looking at her
right now. “I know that.”

“If you know it, then deal with it.” He
walked back to the desk and sat down.

She was left by herself, feeling cold and
alone and hurt. It wasn’t right that he was
taking his problems out on her. Was he
also mad because of what Danielle had
said about Hunter and her having been
together?

Scarlett realized that Bryson really didn’t

know anything about her past. She hadn’t
told him about Hunter or Terrence or
anything. But maybe it wasn’t any of his
business, either.

She got herself a sandwich and sat down
again, trying to ignore him.

Meanwhile, Danielle had finished being
primped and primed and now she was
ready for her close up.

Hunter directed her to her mark.

“What’s a mark?” she asked.

Bryson snorted and bit into his sandwich.

Hunter calmly explained it. “A mark is

where an actor stands when they say
certain lines. It’s called ‘hitting your
mark.’ Otherwise, the camera might have
trouble knowing where you’re going to be
when you deliver your lines.”

“Oh, yeah—I knew that,” Danielle said,
waving. She was starting to sweat a little.

Barbara raised her eyebrows and looked
at her script, blinking, as if she’d never
seen such insanity before.

Danielle went to her mark and introduced
herself. She had brought a headshot with
her, but no resume. Scarlett looked at the
picture. In it, Danielle was wearing a
skimpy dress and smiling demurely in the
foreground, while in the background, four

handsome men appeared to be pining for
her.

Scarlett could hear the others trying to
hold in their laughter as they looked at the
headshot.

“Well, it’s unique,” Hunter muttered.

“Shhh….” Kallie warned him.

“Okay, action,” Hunter shouted.

If most of the actors up to this point had
been at least adequate, Scarlett was now
seeing what ‘not adequate’ looked like.

Danielle was unable to deliver a line with
anything that resembled conviction.

She was inflecting the lines with odd
emotions, overwrought at times. It was
confusing—so confusing that Barbara
even lost her place twice and they had to
start over.

Hunter let them go through the entire
scene, which he’d rarely done all day.

Scarlett supposed that being a friend had
its perks, because she was absolutely
certain that Danielle would have been
kicked out of the room after one or two
lines if she’d been anybody else.

Finally, mercifully, it was over.

“That was really great,” Hunter said,
standing up.

“Oh, thank you!” Danielle cried, like
she’d just received an Academy Award.

“Thank you so much. Everyone.” She
blew three or four kisses. “Bye, everyone.
I can’t wait to see you all when we start
shooting.”

And then she and her entourage floated out
of the room.

When they were gone, everyone just
stared at each other.

“I apologize for that,” Kallie said.

“Nothing wrong with some comic relief,”
Barbara said.

Bryson was silent. He picked at his food
while the others made lighthearted
conversation.

“Okay,” Hunter said. “Let’s get through
the rest of the day. We’ve got another
twenty or thirty people to see.”

Suddenly, Scarlett remembered Lydia.

“Oh my goodness,” she said. “I just
remembered. I should step out really
quickly.”

“Sure, no problem,” Hunter said.

“I’ll be right back.” She got up and headed
into the waiting room. As she’d feared,
there were only actresses out there.

Nobody else was waiting—Lydia was
gone.

Scarlett came back and sat down, her
heart felt as if it was in her throat. She’d
forgotten about Lydia in all the madness
and mayhem of these auditions, and she
knew that this was going to be a costly
mistake.

On top of that, Bryson wasn’t even
acknowledging her existence.

Things were steadily falling apart and
Scarlett truly had no idea how to fix any of
it. She wasn’t even certain why Bryson
was upset with her, and he didn’t seem too
interested in explaining himself at the
moment.

She managed to get through the rest of the
auditions, trying her best to pay attention
to each actress that came in. It was hard to
care, but knowing how important this
moment likely was for each woman,
Scarlett did her best to show interest and
care about every performance.

Hunter continued to basically run the
auditions, since Bryson had gone silent. A
few times, Hunter tried to ask him a
question and Bryson would mumble some
generic response.

Finally, the last person came in and left.
Everyone was exhausted—Scarlett could
see it on everyone’s faces, and she
imagined her face was no better.

“So,” Hunter said, “were there any
standouts for you guys?”

“Clearly, your friend Danielle was a
homerun,” Barbara said drily.

This got a big laugh out of everyone—
except for Bryson, who simply sat there
and looked at the floor, waiting for the
ruckus to die down.

“Bryson?” Kallie asked. “Was there
someone who stood out to you?”

“There were three women who all brought
something different to the table,” he
replied. Then he took three photos out of
the stack in front of him. “These three
were my favorites,” he said, passing them

to Scarlett.

One of them was Jennifer Willis, who’d
been Scarlett’s clear choice. The other
two were women who she also had liked,
but not nearly as much.

As Scarlett passed the photos down to the
others, people began talking all at once.

Other names and pictures were bandied
about, traded back and forth. After a few
minutes, it was clear that everyone had
loved Jennifer Willis, but there was
another actress that Bryson, Kallie and
Barbara had also liked a great deal.

They began discussing pros and cons. The
other actress was slightly more well

known, and Barbara felt that the more high
profile each actor in the film was, the
better Bridge and Tunnel’s chances at the
box office.

After some more discussion, Hunter
stepped in. “I’m really a big fan of what
Jennifer Willis did today. I just thought
she had charisma. She has something
special.”

“We don’t want her showing up Eliza,”
Bryson said.

“Nobody’s going to show up Eliza,”
Hunter responded.

“Just the same, I feel more comfortable
going with someone else.”

Things quieted down as the tension in the
room suddenly increased. It felt, Scarlett
thought, as though Bryson was directly
challenging Hunter for some reason.

Scarlett looked at him and realized he was
furious with Hunter. Absolutely furious.

And at that moment, Hunter asked Scarlett
what she thought. “Scarlett?” he said.

“Maybe you can shed some light on this
dilemma. Did you have a preference?”

Bryson sighed.

Scarlett stuttered a non-answer. “I mean,
they were all so good—“

“She doesn’t have an opinion,” Bryson
said. “So let’s get down to brass tacks.”

Scarlett glared at him. “Excuse me, I do
have an opinion. I think Jennifer Willis is
hands down the best choice. I honestly
can’t believe we’re even having to
discuss it.

She blew everyone else away.”

Bryson sat back and folded his arms.
“Okay,

well—Scarlett’s

made

her

decision, so…fine.” He got up. “Hunter
can call Jennifer and tell her she got the
part.”

“Bryson,” Hunter said.

“I’m tired and I have rewrites, as you so
kindly keep reminding me.” Bryson left
the room without another word to
anybody.

Hunter turned and looked at Kallie and
Barbara. “Is it me? Did I do something
wrong?”

Kallie just shook her head sadly.

“Someone needs to talk some sense to that
guy,” Hunter muttered.

Scarlett got up. “I’m going to go talk to
him.”

She got outside just in time to see him
about to turn the corner and disappear

from view. “Bryson, wait a second!” she
shouted.

He stopped and turned around. “What do
you want, Scarlett?”

“I want to talk to you.”

“I really don’t feel like talking right now.
Especially not to you.”

“What does that mean?”

He looked at her and his eyes were full
of…she couldn’t say exactly what.

Normally, when a man looked at her the
way Bryson was staring at her, it meant he
wanted her. But there was anger in his

eyes, also.

“You never mentioned to me that you
dated Hunter Reardon.”

“There’s a lot about me you don’t know,
Bryson. And I’m sure there’s a lot I don’t
know about you.”

He shook his head. “And you took his side
over mine.”

“Took his side? Are you talking about
how I said I liked Jennifer Willis?”

“That guy busted my balls all day long and
the last thing I need is you piling on,
Scarlett.”

“You’ve been rude to me all day, so I
don’t see how you can blame me for any
of this. I’m out here trying to talk to you.
I’m trying. I’m trying and you’re just
beating me down.”

“I didn’t ask you to come after me. Just—
just leave me alone, okay? I can’t take
care of your feelings right now. I have
rewrites. I have pressure, Scarlett.
Everyone on this film thinks I’m going to
go down in flames. So just don’t put this
added pressure on me of trying to figure
out what you need. All right?”

“You know what?” she said. “Forget
this.” She turned away from him, finally
seeing that she was only repeating her

same old patterns by crawling after him
and trying to beg his forgiveness for
something she hadn’t even done wrong.
This was all about him and it had nothing
to do with her. And she was glad for it.

“Scarlett, wait. I’m sorry,” he said.

But she was already walking away from
him and it felt good. It felt really good.

***

The rest of that day, Scarlett did things for
herself.

She got her hair styled at a nice salon and
then she went and got a manicure and
pedicure. It felt nice to pamper herself and

even nicer that she wasn’t fretting about
Bryson anymore.

Sure, she’d felt a little bit of a pang when
he’s apologized and she’d just kept
walking—but it had been the right thing to
do. Of that much, she was sure.

Scarlett felt as though she’d truly grown
these last few weeks. The old her would
have ended up groveling at Bryson’s feet,
trying to please him. But now she was
able to recognize that there was no
pleasing some men.

She went by herself to a sushi restaurant
and ate, staring out the window at the
people walking by outside. It was
nighttime and there was something so

romantic about New York in the evening.

Kallie dipped her tuna roll in soy sauce
and popped it into her mouth, chewing and
enjoying the taste as she continued to
people watch out the window.

It suddenly occurred to her that once upon
a time, Hunter had also been one of

“those men” who were impossible to
please. Why was it, she wondered, that
he’d suddenly been able to find peace of
mind with Kallie?

Maybe it’s me, she thought. Maybe it
really is me.

The thought unnerved her and she lost her

appetite.

She asked for the check and readied
herself to leave the restaurant. When she
emerged into the night air, the street felt
more deserted than it had seemed just
fifteen or twenty minutes ago.

Now all of her good feeling that had built
up during the day had drained out of her,
like a bucket with a hole in the bottom.
She walked down the street, pulling her
coat tighter around her as the wind kicked
up.

She glanced up and down the street,
hoping to see some taxis coming, but there
were none. Not only were there no taxis,
but there were no cars in sight either.

And there were only a couple of other
people on the street, one a block or so
behind her.

The nearest subway station was probably
close to a half mile away, and she no
longer had the energy to walk it. Still, she
picked up her pace, knowing that the faster
she moved, the faster she’d get there.

When she looked back over her shoulder
again, she noticed that the person behind
her was now somewhat closer. For some
reason, it bothered her.

This is New York City, one of the most
populated places on the entire planet. Of
course there’s someone behind you.

But something about it set off her inner
alarms, and now her nerves were tingling.

Because New York was also one of the
more dangerous cities in the world, and
people were raped and mugged and killed
all the time.

She started to walk a little bit faster,
calculating where the next busy street was
where she could feel safe. Unfortunately,
this was a fairly residential street and
there weren’t any other public restaurants
or stores that she could hop into.

Her legs seemed to be moving ever faster,
almost of their own volition.

She turned around quickly and saw the

figure had gained on her again. It was a
man, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt with
the hood up. He seemed to be intentionally
trying to catch up to her.

Scarlett wanted to believe it was just her
imagination, but she honestly didn’t think
it was. And she didn’t think the man
following her was just some random
mugger.

Terrence’s son is still alive, and he’s
dangerous.

Just thinking it was enough to cause her to
begin to run. Once she’d admitted to
herself how frightened she really was,
Scarlett couldn’t help but sprint. Her chest
was heaving and her lungs burned.

It wasn’t just a feeling—she knew it. She
knew it with everything inside her.

Terrence’s son Trevor was going to try
and kill her right now—and if she didn’t
run as fast as she possibly could, he was
going to succeed where his father had
failed.

She looked back and saw that the man
behind her was also running.

“Oh my God,” she gasped. Now it was
real. She was being pursued and she likely
wasn’t fast enough to stay ahead of him for
long.

She could imagine the feel of a blade
entering her back, the sudden icy coldness

of it, and then the numbness as she fell to
the ground. Trevor on top of her, stabbing
her again and again.

She pushed herself to run faster.

At this point, she was barely able to gasp
air in quickly enough. But she wanted to
live.

She reached the end of the street and
turned onto the next street, slipping and
falling to her knees for just a second. She
got to her feet and started running again.
At the first building on her right, she
caught sight of a woman walking through
the door of her apartment complex.

Without even thinking, Scarlett darted up

the stairs after the woman, catching the
door just before it closed and locked. The
woman continued up the inside stairwell.

Scarlett quickly pushed the door shut,
hearing it click reassuringly as she did so.

Then she moved out of the doorway and
pressed her back against the wall, hiding
so that whoever it was ( Trevor, you know
it’s Trevor) couldn’t see her in there.

She was shuddering and shaking and tears
rolled down her face. A minute passed
and then two and then three. Slowly, she
started to calm down. Another minute
passed.

She was crying but her heart rate slowed.

Suddenly, the door started to open.
Scarlett nearly shrieked. And then an
older woman entered the hall, and started
when she saw Scarlett in the corner. “My
goodness, you scared the heck out of me!”
the woman growled.

“I’m sorry,” Scarlett laughed.

“Do you live in this building?”

“I just—I was visiting a friend.”

“What’s your friend’s name?”

Scarlett didn’t know why she felt so
guilty, maybe it was the woman’s accusing
glare. “I’m just leaving now,” Scarlett
told her, and left, once again walking out

into the unwelcoming darkness.

Just then, she heard her phone buzzing in
her purse. Quickly, she took it out, and
saw that Bryson was calling her.

She had never been so glad to hear
anyone’s voice, as she answered.

“Scarlett, I need to talk to you,” he said.

She started to cry, unable to contain her
emotions.

“Hey,” he said. “Are you all right? What’s
wrong?”

“I was just chased. Someone—“

“Where are you? Are you in danger right
now?” he practically shouted.

“I’m not sure. I don’t think so. I hid and I
think he went past me a few minutes ago.”

“Tell me your address. I’m coming to get
you right now, Scarlett.”

She felt a wave of gratitude for him. “But I
don’t want to mess up your rewrites.”

“Fuck my rewrites. Stay where you are.”

***

It seemed like forever, but it was only
about fifteen minutes later that Bryson
arrived via taxi. It pulled up next to the

apartment building. Scarlett had been
hiding in the shadows near the stoop.
When the cab slowed down, she came out
of the shadows.

Bryson jumped out of the taxi and grabbed
her in his arms, pulling her close.

“Are you okay?” he said.

She nodded, so relieved that he was here
and taking care of her that she could
barely speak. “I’m all right.”

He ushered her into the warm, safe cab,
and she slid inside. A moment later and
Bryson was beside her, telling the driver
to take them to Murray Hill.

Once the taxi pulled away from the
apartment building and into the street,
Scarlett knew she was truly and finally
going to be okay. She looked at Bryson,
who was watching her with concerned
eyes. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

She started to tell him, haltingly at first,
but eventually finding her voice and
growing stronger.

I’m safe. Bryson’s going to make sure of
it.

They arrived at his building and went up
to his apartment. She didn’t ask if he
wanted to send her home, because she
could tell he wasn’t going to, and she
certainly didn’t want to go back to her

lonely, dark apartment.

Bryson’s place was warm and cozy. The
lights were all on and the television was
playing some basketball game softly in the
other room.

“Your knees are cut,” he said looking
down as she took off her coat.

“Oh. I forgot that I fell. It’s okay, they’re
just skinned.”

His jaw tightened. “I want you to go take a
nice long bath, Scarlett. You need heat and
warmth and relaxation. You need to just
close your eyes and let your muscles
release that tension. Okay?”

“Okay.” She nodded. A bath sounded
incredible. “I don’t have anything to
change into.”

“Do you mind wearing a t-shirt of mine?”

“That sounds fine,” she smiled.

“Come on, I’ll start the bath for you,” he
told her.

“Bryson, I think I know how to run a bath
for myself.”

He ignored her, walking to the bathroom,
as she followed behind him. He knelt
down and started the water running. “You
need this water piping hot,” he said.

The tub was absolutely huge, and it had
those fancy jets coming out of the sides.

Scarlett watched him running his hand
under the faucet, trying to get the
temperature just right for her.

She felt a strong emotion wash over her—
a caring feeling for Bryson—that almost
brought her to tears. He didn’t have to do
any of this for her. After all, they’d been
fighting earlier, and although she was
scared,

nothing

bad

had

actually

happened.

No one had mugged or even threatened
her.

I was chased, she reminded herself.

Someone was running after me.

That brought a chill to her bones.

Bryson stood up and smiled at her. “I’m
going to get back to writing while you
soak. When you’re done, let me know and
I’ll bring you a shirt to change into.”

“A shirt? Is that all?”

“I’m a lot bigger than you,” he said. “One
of my t-shirts will be as good as a
nightgown on you.”

“Thank you for taking care of me,” she
said.

“I’ll always take care of you if you need

me to,” he replied.

She looked into his eyes and thought that
he meant it.

After Bryson left the bathroom, she got
undressed. Her muscles were aching and
she was fragile, cold and exhausted.
Lowering herself into the tub was pure
heaven. The water was hot and blissful,
enveloping her.

She laid her head back against the edge
and closed her eyes, smiling.

For a very long time, she rested. Her skin
became soft and her muscles were smooth
and loose. Eventually, the water cooled
and she decided she’d had enough.

Scarlett got out, dripping, and wrapped
herself in a large towel. Then she opened
the bathroom door. The relatively cool air
hit her like a wall and she shivered.

“Bryson?”

“You done in there?” he called out.

“Yes!”

“Okay, be right over.”

She stood with the door open, waiting for
him. She was excited for him to see her in
her towel. She was thinking about his eyes
taking in her bare legs, her bare shoulders,
the swell of her breasts. She wanted him
to remember what it had been like when

they touched one another.

She could certainly still remember it.

Will he want me to sleep in bed with him
again, or will he give me a bed in the
guest

room?

She

wondered.

She

desperately wanted to be close to him
once more, to feel his body next to hers.

Bryson came strolling down the hall
carrying a white t-shirt for her in one
hand.

“I hope this is good enough for tonight,”
he said. “I don’t know what it is with us,
but somehow we keep ending up in
situations where you don’t have enough
clothes for the night.”

“Maybe it’s not such a bad thing,” she
said.

He smiled slowly. “Maybe it’s not.”

Their hands touched as he gave her the
shirt.

Once he’d left, she changed into the t-shirt
he’d given her. It was long, but not that
long. It came down to the middle of her
thighs, and she was rather glad that it
wasn’t longer. She wasn’t wearing a bra
or panties, and her nipples were hard, and
very visible through the ultra-thin white
material.

She didn’t particularly mind that either.

A few minutes later, she padded out to
where he was typing away on his
computer.

“Does it bother you if I’m in here while
you’re writing?” she asked.

He turned and looked at her. “Not at all. I
need a break from this crap anyway,”

he said, shutting the laptop.

“Has it been tough?”

“I can’t really complain,” he said. “I mean
look at me. I’m living in an awesome
apartment that I don’t have to pay a dime
for, and I’m writing a film that’s going to
have two of the biggest actors in

Hollywood starring in it.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s easy.”

He nodded. “True. It’s not easy.”

Scarlett found that she wanted to know
more. “Tell me what it’s like. I’ve never
really written anything like that before.”

He got off his chair and came towards her.
“It’s boring.”

“I doubt that. It seems exciting.”

Bryson’s eyes were piercing into hers.
“Not exciting compared to other things I
can think of.”

She licked her lips and looked away, a
little frightened by his overt comment.

And even more frightened by how much
she wanted him at that exact second. “I
really appreciate you picking me up
tonight, when you’re so busy.”

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned that.” He put his
fingers underneath her chin and tilted it up,
causing her to look into his eyes.

“Bryson…”

“Yes?”

Her heart was beating so fast. She wasn’t
sure what was happening between them.
Did he actually have feelings for her?

What was really going on here?

“I’m just confused,” she said.

“So am I,” he said. Then his mouth turned
down as he looked at her body.

“Those cuts on your knees are bleeding.
Hold on a minute.” He turned away and
went into the other room. When he came
back, he had Band-Aids and some
Neosporin ointment.

“Sit down on the couch,” he told her. “We
need to take care of those cuts.”

She sat down, and the t-shirt, which had
been midway up her thighs, now rode up
to the very top of her thighs, exposing

almost all of her legs to him.

He knelt in front of her, and if he looked
up just the right way, she knew he’d see a
lot more than he bargained for. Or maybe
it was exactly what he’d bargained for.

Bryson used a bit of gauze to dab at the
scrapes on both of her knees. Then he
squeezed some ointment onto his fingers
and rubbed it gently onto the wounds.
“And now, the grand finale,” he said,
grinning. He applied the Band-Aids to
both of her knees.

“That was unnecessary, but very nice just
the same,” she said.

He wasn’t getting up, and in fact, his

hands were still resting on the top of her
thighs. “I need to let you know that you’re
in good hands.” As he said that, he started
to slowly caress her legs.

“That’s very sweet of you,” she said,
grabbing his hands with hers. “But I’m
ticklish.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize.” He looked
thoughtful. “Maybe this will tickle less.”
He suddenly leaned in and kissed each
knee. He looked up. “Did that tickle?”

“No.”

“What about this?” He leaned forward
again, and this time he kissed the inside of
each thigh.

She jumped a little bit. “That tickles.
Yes.” She got up, then, unsure of what was
happening. She turned her back to him and
looked out the window overlooking the
skyline.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I just don’t understand,” she said. “At the
hotel, you were into everything one
second, and then the next second you were
just done with me. And then all day today
you acted like I was your sworn enemy.
I’m having a hard time figuring out what
you want.”

He came closer again, putting his hands on
her hips and his mouth close to her ear.
His breath was hot on her neck and

ruffling her hair. “I think you know exactly
what I want, Scarlett.”

“Is it just sex?”

His hands moved from her hips, all the
way up to cup her breasts. “What if it
was?”

She shuddered with excitement. “I don’t
know.”

“I can’t promise you anything.”

“I’m not asking for promises.”

“What I do know is that I can’t stop
thinking about you, Scarlett. I think about
you more than this film. And that could be

a very, very bad thing for my career.”

She smiled as his hands massaged her
breasts over her shirt. She was getting wet
already. “My job is to help you in your
career.”

“Well, I’m not sure it’s working,” he
whispered.

“Then maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

“Do you want me to stop touching you?”

“No.”

Suddenly, he spun her to face him, and his
mouth was on hers again. She’d been
waiting for this to happen, and Bryson

didn’t disappoint her. His mouth was
hungry, his lips tender and soft, yet
aggressive in just the way that Scarlett
enjoyed.

Their kiss was a sparring between lust
and want and need. Sometimes it seemed
as though he was retreating from her, other
times it seemed as though she was holding
back and Bryson was coming after her.

Soon, his hands were roaming all over her
body once more. This time, he was more
free than he’d been in the hotel, caressing
her legs and then moving beneath her
tshirt.

His hands grabbed her hips, pulling her
against him. As he did so, his mouth took

her mouth, his tongue delving in, locking
with hers in a kiss that took her breath
away.

His passion undid her completely. It
unlocked her, the same way his hands
effortlessly

unlocked

her

sexual

inhibitions, freeing her like never before.

“I want you to beg me,” he whispered in
her ear.

“Can I suck your cock?” she asked, hoping
to surprise him with her honesty.

He wasn’t fazed. “Only if you tell me
about it first.”

“You have no idea how much I love

giving head.”

“That’s good,” he murmured. “Tell me
how you’ll suck it.”

“I’ll take it all the way in my mouth,” she
promised. “I’ll let you fuck my mouth first,
fuck my mouth the way you want to fuck
my pussy.”

“I’m not sure you can take me in your
mouth like that,” he said. “Don’t tell me
something you can’t follow through on,
Scarlett.”

Her eyes closed, and she moaned as his
hands grabbed her hair and pulled her
head back. He started to kiss her neck.

“Please, please, can I at least take it out
and look at it?” she asked.

He nodded, stepping back so that she
could do whatever she wanted to do.

Scarlett got on her knees and began
unbuttoning his jeans.

“Wait a second,” he said.

“What?” she asked, hoping she hadn’t
already done something wrong.

He went and got a small blanket from the
couch and laid it on the floor. “I don’t
want your knees getting hurt,” he said
softly.

She smiled a little. It was funny, given the
circumstances, but also very sweet.

She knew that whatever else was going on
between them—Bryson truly did care
about her. He didn’t just want to have sex
with her.

She wanted to please him the way he
pleased her—make him crazy the way he
made her crazy.

She started unbuttoning his pants again,
excited to see him hard and touch it for the
first time. When she unveiled his boxers,
she pressed her hands against the material
and saw the large outline of his cock.

“It’s big,” she whispered.

“You still think you can really take it in
your mouth?”

She nodded, rubbing it through his boxers.
Slowly, she manipulated the head of him
out the hole in his shorts. She stroked it
softly. She stroked the shaft over the
material again. “I’d like to take it out,” she
said softly, still stroking.

“Put me in your mouth right now,” he
commanded.

Instantly, she did as he’d told her. How he
knew that this was exactly what she
wanted—Scarlett didn’t have a clue how
it could be. She loved to be told,
commanded, even forced at times. She
wanted him in charge always, even if she

complained about it.

Most men had to be explained why, told
all the rules first. Hunter had needed all
kinds of lessons in BDSM before he’d
truly known what Scarlett wanted and
needed.

But Bryson was different. He didn’t seem
to be interested in the culture of BDSM,
he didn’t appear to know the rules per se.
It was instinctive, somehow.

She began sucking his cock, and as big
and stiff as he was before, he got even
stiffer and harder. She actually was
starting to doubt what she’d be able to do
with him, because he had, for sure, the
largest dick she’d ever seen.

“You said I could fuck your mouth,” he
said gruffly. “Do you still want that?”

She nodded slightly, moaning as he slid
out and then quickly in. His girth was
stretching her lips, pressing her tongue
down, filling her mouth. She breathed
through her nostrils in great big gasps.

He pulled her hair as he began to increase
the speed of his hips back and forth.

She pressed her hands against his
muscular thighs.

“Your mouth feels incredible,” he said,
his voice shaking with excitement.

She started to move her head in time with

his thrusts. She was starting to get a little
more used to his size. She enjoyed the
challenge, actually. Imagining him slowly
entering her pussy was making her want to
come.

He would be so big, he’d need to squeeze
into her an inch at a time, maybe even
slower.

“Your mouth is so sweet. I want to fill
your mouth up and have you swallow
every last drop.”

She sucked faster as his hips moved
forcefully towards her. She could tell that
his excitement was building, and she was
ready for that explosion.

But he didn’t finish.

Instead, he pulled out, and grabbing her
hair, pulled her down to the ground. He
went to the ground with her, pushing her
shirt up and sucking her nipples with
reckless abandon. His muscular body
pressed down on her, spread her legs
wide as he licked and sucked.

“Oh, Bryson. I want to come now.”

“Don’t you fucking dare come.” He kissed
down her stomach, making her shudder
and cry out. “Don’t you dare, Scarlett.”

She whined and moaned.

“Spread those fucking legs,” he said, and

then he drove his face against her bare
pussy, enthusiastically sucking on her clit.
He found her g-spot almost instantly, and
she felt her buttocks locking with tension
as wave after wave of pleasure sparked
through her inner tunnel.

She’d never been eaten out like this, by
any man. No one had even known their
way around her private place, known how
aggressively she liked the tongue to be.
And then, just as suddenly, Bryson would
become gentle in just the way she wanted.

It was truly as though he was reading her
body like a book.

Her hands clenched into fists and she
made almost inhuman noises. Her toes

curled. “Oh, fuck. Fuck me,” she gasped.

He lifted his mouth for a moment. “Not
just yet. Now it’s time for you to come.”

He went back to licking up and down her
lips, and she arched into him, as he started
to suck her clit again.

“I’m coming,” she told him. And she did
come, letting him fuck her with his tongue
and lips—and it was the best sex she’d
ever had. He hadn’t even truly fucked her
and it was the best she’d ever had.

How is this possible? She wondered.

But in the end, all that mattered was how
good it felt.

When she spent herself, he straddled her,
then slowly eased his cock back into her
mouth once more.

He slid in and out of her mouth as she
used her hands to pull his buttocks
towards her, taking him in all the way to
the very root.

“I’m going to finish in your mouth and I
want you to swallow it all. Show me how
good you can be, Scarlett. Show me how
good you are.” He moaned and spurted
semen into her mouth. It was hot and warm
and there was more of it then she was
prepared for.

Still, it turned her on. He was so
dominating, so sexy, so perfect. She loved

sucking every last bit of it, and it tasted
salty and good.

She even continued sucking past when
everything was gone.

“You’re going to make me hard again. Are
you insane?”

Giggling, she went at it with renewed
enthusiasm. Finally, almost regretfully, he
withdrew.

“That was something else,” she sighed.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

***

She snapped awake.

It was still very late at night. Dark.

Bryson had turned away from her
sometime during the night. They’d gone to
bed together, both of them completely
nude. He’d held her against him and he
was so hard and warm and she knew he
wanted her.

She’d tried to encourage him to slide
inside, from behind, her pussy so wet she
could barely take it.

“No,” he’d whispered. “Not yet. Wait.
Wait, baby.” He’d kissed her neck and
held her close, his hardness promising so
much more to come.

And they’d fallen asleep, even though
she’d thought it would be impossible.

Well now it really was impossible.

It was so quiet in the apartment, and dark,
and she could hear some clock ticking
somewhere. It was driving her crazy.
Scarlett liked to fall asleep to the TV, or
maybe a fan.

But this silence with the ticking clock was
maddening.

In the darkness, she began to think of
Terrence and all those times he’d done
terrible things to her. She began to think of
when she was a little girl, and the
darkness had been almost complete and

total, and she’d wanted to cry knowing
that nobody would come tell her it was all
right.

She began to think of how someone had
chased her earlier.

That damn clock!

Scarlett got out of bed, intending to find
and silence that stupid clock. When she
got out to the living room, she noticed that
Bryson had opened his laptop again at
some point before coming to bed.

It was open and the bright screen was
staring at her, inviting her to just have a
quick look.

She crept over to it—curious about the
revisions he was working on. She wanted
to know everything about him. She wanted
to understand how his mind worked.

Reading his writing made her feel so
close to him.

She sat down and read the page that was
on screen. She noticed a little typo—a
missing period, and added it almost
without thinking.

Then, she grew more curious still. She
scrolled all the way back to the beginning
of the script and started reading from the
start.

It took her mind off the darkness and the

fears. Took her mind off how alone she’d
been. How alone she’d probably be again
someday soon.

It was striking how much of the screenplay
Bryson had changed in such a short time. It
was very different than what she’d read
just the other day. The rewrites were very
substantial—no

wonder

he’d

been

freaking out about them. There were more
typos, which she fixed as she read. There
was no point, she thought, in leaving
mistakes there when they were so
obvious.

As time went by and she got more
entranced by the story, she started to
forget she was only intending to fix

obvious typos. She also fixed a few other
things.

For instance, there was a moment between
the two main characters and the woman
said something totally unbelievable.

A woman would never—ever—say that
line, Scarlett thought, shaking her head
slowly. She changed the line. She didn’t
really think about whether it was right or
wrong to do that—she just thought that it
needed fixing.

After a couple of hours had gone by, she
was almost done reading the screenplay.

She’d totally lost track of time. In fact, she
didn’t notice that the sky outside had

begun lightening.

She didn’t hear the footsteps behind her as
Bryson walked into the room and stood
watching her.

There was another bit of strange dialog
that Scarlett just knew needed fixing.

Scarlett was just starting to change it when
his voice frightened her.

“What the hell do you think you’re
doing?”

She screamed and turned around. “Shit.
Bryson, you—“

His eyes were wide with barely repressed

rage. “Scarlett, what are you doing?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“So you came out here and started messing
with my work?”

She suddenly realized just how bad this
looked. “I just was reading at first.”

“At first. Who told you that you could read
my unfinished work, on my computer?
That’s my personal shit, Scarlett.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was
thinking. I’m so sorry.”

He walked forward and bent down to see
the computer screen. “I saw you typing,

Scarlett. You were changing my script.”

“Just typos.”

“Just typos? You didn’t change any words
or edit my stuff?”

She grew quiet, thinking of those little
wrong bits of dialog that she’d “fixed.”

She licked her lips, trying to find a way to
explain how it had been. “I made a couple
of other minor changes. Just tweaked one
or two lines that looked strange to me.”

Bryson literally ripped the computer away
from her, holding it in his arms like a
baby. “You need to leave.”

“Okay,” she said, terrified, unable to even
move. “I’ll go. I’m so sorry.”

“Get your stuff and leave,” he said.

She nodded, not looking at him, not
wanting to see the anger in his eyes that
she so clearly heard in his voice. She
stood up and got her clothes, then changed
in the bathroom. When she glimpsed
herself in the mirror, she looked like a
stranger.

She looked like a terrified little kid.

But this was nothing new to her.
Disappointing and angering people was
nothing new at all.

She was dressed and heading toward the
doorway to leave when he came out of his
bedroom with his arms folded.

“Scarlett,” he said, and he actually
sounded regretful.

She turned, looking at him with the first
stirrings of hope. Maybe they could still
talk this out, maybe she could explain
what a silly thing this all was. “Yes?” she
said, her voice quivering.

He looked down and sighed. Then he
looked at her again, his jaw trembling. “I
just can’t work with you anymore—I can’t
see you anymore. You’re fired, Scarlett.”

THE END

Look for the next book in the series (For
His Pleasure, Book 14), coming on
January 15th!