Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 63716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
But then I’d be right back in the same bad spot I’d been in when I’d agreed to play my role in this sham. Worse off, really, because there was no way I’d ever get hired on a Lewis Productions set again. So, I was reluctantly relieved when Julian’s shoulders relaxed and he said, “It’s still your job, if you want it.”
I waited a cool couple of seconds before saying, “I want it.”
The corners of Julian’s mouth twitched. He looked torn between amusement and irritation. “Where do you come from, Willow Laurier?”
It was impossible to answer honestly, so I tilted my head. “You know better than anyone, Julian Lewis.” That was true in a way he didn’t understand. We both came from a similar place–the offspring of the wealthy and powerful. But then I added, “After all, you’ve read my resume.”
“Why do I get the feeling your resume doesn’t tell me the whole story?” he asked quietly, his face suddenly very serious.
My stomach dropped and my heart beat triple time in my chest. It was one thing to fail; it was another thing altogether to get caught. I searched Julian’s face for a sign he knew more than he was letting on, or that he even suspected. I didn’t see how he could–I didn’t look a damn thing like my father. I didn’t even look like my half-sister–she’d taken after her mother, a wintry blonde with glacier blue eyes set deep in a heart-shaped face.
“I think you must be on the wrong side of your business,” I said finally. “You should be writing the movies, not producing them.”
“No one has ever accused me of having that much imagination.” Julian’s gaze stayed on mine, pensive and probing. The air between us was thick with tension and filled with crackling static. I had the irrational thought that he was listening for the truth in that static, that if we stayed silent for another moment, he might put his finger on what was eluding him.
I had to say something, do something, quick, or any minute now–
Before the thought could even reach its frantic conclusion, the door banged open behind me, slamming off the brick building. I spun around, nearly stumbling back into Julian. Automatically, he uncrossed his arms and put his hands up, steadying me.
Miller stood framed in the doorway, his arm bracing the door that was trying to swing back shut. He squinted against the bright sunlight, then glared at us. “If you two are done fucking around back here, I’d like my production assistant back, Lewis.”
I couldn’t see Julian’s face, but flames licked up my own. Burning with anger and embarrassment, because it was impossible to miss the deliberate pause between fucking and around back here. “We’re done,” I snapped, stepping forward and putting distance between my back and Julian’s steadying hand.
“Not quite,” Julian murmured, halting me in my tracks.
“Not quite?” Miller repeated loudly.
Julian spared him a brief glance, then focused on me again. “We’ll finish this later, Ms. Laurier.”
I bared my teeth in what could have been a smile, if someone had that much imagination. “You’re the boss.”
“And don’t think he’ll ever let you forget it,” Miller muttered, and he slammed the door close between us.
8
JULIAN
“If you’re so sure she’s not trustworthy, why don’t you fire her?” Landon asked that Tuesday night at happy hour.
“Because he wants to sleep with her,” Garrett replied as if it should be obvious. He glanced around the table for confirmation.
Dominic nodded and Con looked at the ceiling, abstaining.
“That’s—” irrelevant “--inaccurate.” I frowned, wondering why I’d thought that. I didn’t want to sleep with Willow. She was too young for me. Even if she wasn’t, I liked my women warm and trustworthy. Willow was a crisp autumn breeze that might stab you in the back. “I’m not firing her because it would cause too much shit with Miller,” I said finally. “Besides, what would I tell HR? I had a gut feeling?”
“You could tell them you’re the head of the studio,” Dominic said drolly. “I doubt they’d ask any follow up questions.”
“That’s not how Lewis Productions works. We’re not a dictatorship.” We had been when my father ran things. Dana and I had worked hard to change the culture. It had taken nearly ten years to weed out the execs who wanted to keep things status quo. I wasn’t going to take us backward now, not over a gut feeling and a mouthy production assistant.
“Better to keep your enemies close anyway,” Landon said, and we all stared at him.
“I actually prefer my enemies to be really far away,” Garrett said at the same time as I was saying, “I never said she’s an enemy.”
Landon shrugged. He ran a security company and made his fortune accurately assessing threats. He was damn good at it, but he didn’t exactly leave the job behind when he left the office. “It’s common sense,” he said. “If you think she’s up to something, you have a better chance of figuring out what it is if you keep her around.”