Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 145634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
One of the four women behind the desk looks up at us with a smile, her platinum blonde hair pulled back tightly into a high bun. Everyone in here oozes wealth and sophistication.
“You’re fine,” Lydia whispers to me and her voice makes me turn to her. “If you could stop gripping me like you’re about to float away, I’d appreciate it,” she says.
I instantly let go of her arm.
It’s just that … I’m intimidated. There’s no other way to put it. I’m terrified I’m going to fail. That I’ll ruin this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
“You’re seriously going to do fine,” Lydia says, practically reading my mind as we come to a stop in front of the desk.
Before I can even utter a response, she’s already moved on and is giving our names to the receptionist, Alexis, or so it says on the shiny silver tag above her shirt pocket.
“And how can I help you, Miss Parker?”
“We’re here for filming with Mr. Stevens,” Lydia says and adds, “The fifteenth floor, I believe.” Her soft smile and elegance speak of confidence and certainty. Sure enough, the receptionist nods and reveals key cards, swiping them in something I can’t fully see next to her computer.
I swallow the lump in my throat and look around the large lobby, watching as the men and women, each dressed in varying degrees of wealth, move across the tiled marble. The ceiling is domed and so high I have to crane my neck to see the etched designs along the coffered ceiling.
I wonder if they can tell I’m a girl from outside the city. One of the ones who stares out of her window at night and memorizes each building that’s lit up off in the distance. No one special, and destined to stay in the same town where I grew up.
My mother insisted that a college degree wasn’t necessary. She loved having me work with her in the corner shop selling secondhand antiques and collectibles. I did it for years, but going to school was a chance to get closer to the bright lights of the city. Every year inching nearer, but knowing within four short years I’d be right back in the suburbs, working at my mom’s shop and making her proud.
One day, I’m just a marketing student. The next, I’m taking an internship under Nancy Welsh, a well-known agent.
I shouldn’t have applied; all it did was upset my mother, who didn’t understand, and pulled me closer to a life I didn’t think I was supposed to lead.
Within two weeks, I was practicing line readings with a client and up-and-coming actress, Lydia Parker, sweet and seemingly unassuming. But Lydia is cunning, and she knows the ways of this industry. It wasn’t an accident that we were practicing lines in the coffee shop that the director, Stevens, frequented. What Lydia wants, Lydia gets.
I guess him catching sight of me makes me a happenstance of sorts. I’m just a minor character, but still, it’s more than I ever thought I’d be.
I almost turn my head, tearing my eyes away from the abstract stone sculptures on either side of the elevator when I hear Lydia thank the receptionist. I almost carry on, allowing myself to move through the motions of something I only dared to imagine.
But my eyes catch sight of a man as he enters an elevator. His thin, brown, worn leather jacket is pulled tightly across his broad shoulders as he walks.
My heart stops beating. The chatter and faint sounds turn to white noise. It can’t be him. I tell myself over and over. My lips part and I nearly take a step forward, mostly from disbelief. My hand instantly reaches behind me for Lydia, but I’m not aware if it’s even her. I just need something to grab onto in order to stay grounded.
I recognize him by the way he moves. The way his hand slips into the back pocket of his dark blue jeans and pulls out the necessary card. I know it’s him before he even turns around. The sharp jawline is new, accompanying an older version of the boy I used to know. But his eyes I would know anywhere. The darkness that swirls, the chill in his gaze, yet the heat it brings me. They hold me captive, make me weak, make me crave the way things were before I lost him.
Nathan Hart.
There’s a secret, a dark past between us. Something I’ve tried to ignore and pretend never happened. It’s what tore us apart and even though I’ve accepted what occurred and my part in it, I don’t think I’ll ever be okay.
Time is a bitch. It slows and seems to stay still, refusing to move or to let me respond with anything but disbelief. I wish I hadn’t been looking toward the elevator doors as they start to close, taking him away from me. But I am and as they slowly close, his eyes drift to mine. I’m caught in his stare. Unmoving and trapped by fate as his eyes widen slightly with recognition.