Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 103931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Bill looks back and forth between the two of us, and for a moment, I can see uncertainty in his eyes, but it quickly passes. He grunts and takes a few steps back.
“Fine,” he mumbles before turning on his heel and walking away.
Mallory and I stand there in silence for a few moments before she finally speaks.
“Thank you,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
I nod and give her a small smile. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I pause for a moment before continuing. “What the hell was that all about?”
She meets my gaze and nods. “Yeah, I’m fine. He was just . . . being inappropriate. Trying to convince me that we should hook up.”
I give her a tight smile. “Come on.” I start to walk, and she keeps pace. “I’ll talk to Michael later about getting Bill kicked out of here.”
“Do you think that’s necessary?”
“Yes. He’s a predator. If he doesn’t get his way with you, he’ll move on to Teagan.”
“Shit,” she whispers, all the fight in her evaporating in front of my eyes. “That can’t happen.”
We continue to walk, and the moment we’re away from prying eyes, Mallory collapses against me, her shoulders sagging in relief. I wrap my arms around her and hold her close, feeling the hammering of her heart against mine.
“Can we go back to the hut?” she asks. “I’m pretty shook. He was very aggressive.”
“Let’s go.” I take her hand and lead the way, feeling a wave of protectiveness wash over me as we walk away.
I’ll make sure that fucking sick asshole is gone and never works in this industry again. Men like him are toxic predators. If he has the guts to pull something like this on a small set, I shudder to consider what he’s done to some poor girl, or girls, on other sets. He won’t get away with it where Mallory’s concerned.
A thought ricochets through my head . . . She’s mine. Fuck.
39
Mallory
@Stargossip: Apparently, losing your cool on the set of Twisted Lily isn’t just reserved for the cast and crew. Rumor has it that an angry Paxton almost threw down over Mallory Reynolds.
@2/14wayy: He can be my knight in shining armor. ;)
@Cloudyqueen69: I’d gladly let him fight for my honor.
@Deathtothesystem: Am I the only person who sees this as a problem!?
Two more days have gone by, and as promised, Bill is off the island.
Everyone is back to work, and finally, the film is making progress. Although, I’m afraid to admit that out loud for fear it’ll all come crashing down around us.
“Where are you taking me?”
Paxton swings his head around to smile down at me. “Everyone is shooting at the waterfall, so I’m taking you for a little break.”
My lips form a thin line, but the corners are tilted up. “A little break?”
His mouth curves up into a grin. “Yep.”
“And you don’t think our clients will have a problem with that?” I arch my brow, not believing that at all.
“Well . . .”
I wrinkle my nose. “Well, what?”
“They don’t really know.”
That makes me stop walking, placing my hand on my hip. “What do you mean, they don’t know?”
“Stefan decided they were filming an intimacy scene, and since it’s a closed set for that . . .” He smirks.
“Wait.” I hold my hand up. “They weren’t supposed to shoot that until next week.”
“I pulled strings.”
I lift a brow. “How?”
“I know people.” I smack his gut, and he grunts. “It’s the perfect day, and with the island’s weather being inconsistent, I suggested they get it over with. Stefan agreed.”
Taking my hand back in his, he pulls me along to continue to follow him. I’m not sure where we’re going, but I let him lead the way. This island is a labyrinth. No matter how long I’ve been here, these damn overgrown paths feel like I’m lost in a maze.
We make our way to a small dock with a tiny speedboat bobbing against its wood posts. I shake my head. The last time I was on a boat, it didn’t go so well for me. This one looks less safe than the other.
“Umm. No.” I stop in my tracks, refusing to take another step closer. “Nope. Pass. I don’t think so.”
“Do you trust me?” he asks, hands perched on his hips. He levels me with a puppy-dog look, and a small part of me begins to thaw to the idea.
“I do . . . but—”
“No buts. You either trust me or you don’t.” He shrugs.
“You’re being evil,” I jest.
“Probably, but that isn’t going to change, so . . . get your pretty little ass on the boat, princess.”
I hesitate for a moment, hands gripping the edge of my shorts.
“Do I have to?”
“Well, seeing as, at some point, you have to—I don’t know—get back to the set, yeah, you’re going to have to.”