Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
It was the same person I had been looking for and who was currently alone in her room.
At least, for now.
I knocked on the door, waiting anxiously until I heard her soft footfalls approaching. The door opened, Mila already shaking her head in vexation. “I told you I’m fine, Andi. Why…” She trailed off in shock at seeing me standing there.
“Not Andi, I’m afraid,” I replied, studying her. She was still pale but looked okay, although the word weary came to my mind.
She gripped the edge of the door. “Nicholas. What are you doing here?”
“I came to check on you.” I indicated the room. “Are you going to invite me in?”
She leaned her cheek on the hand resting on the door, the worry in her expression doing something to me. The urge to cup her face was strong. So strong, I had to physically stop myself from reaching out to her. The sensation made me tense, and my voice was sharp when I spoke again.
“I really don’t want to have this conversation in the hallway. But we’re having one, regardless. Where it takes place is up to you.”
She nodded. “Come in.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
MILA
To say I was shocked to see Nicholas at my door was an understatement. I could feel his emotions, tightly contained, as he strode past me. It was in the set of his shoulders, the way his hands were fisted at his sides. He was still furious.
I shut the door, taking in a deep breath. I followed him, sitting on the sofa as he looked around. “Nice place,” he muttered.
I nodded, unsure what to say.
“I just have a regular room. But then again, I’m not the real star here, am I, Mila? Or do you prefer Ms. Archer? Or Shortcake?”
I sighed, accepting his anger.
“Mila is fine. That is my name. Shortstack is what my brother calls me. You changed it to Shortcake, Nicholas.”
“And the Archer?”
“For my privacy. For my family’s privacy.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Are you married?”
“No!” I frowned. “I let you kiss me the other night. Do you think I’d do that if I were married? Or even involved with someone?”
“I have no idea,” he replied coolly.
“Well, I wouldn’t.”
“Why the subterfuge?”
I rubbed a hand over my eyes. “Can you at least sit down? I’m getting a crick in my neck looking up at you.”
He sat across from me, still glowering.
“You’re the one who mistook me for a gofer.”
“You could have corrected my mistake.”
“I know. But you were funny with the whole coffee thing. I should have said something. I’m sorry.”
“And the pool?”
I had to look away from his gaze. “You were larger-than-life. The last person I expected to see. The man I had fought to have cast as Duncan. Right there.” I looked at my feet. “I’m a little shy. I didn’t know how to tell you who I was, and I thought I wouldn’t see you again outside the studio, and you wouldn’t recognize me when we met.”
I was startled to feel his fingers under my chin, lifting my head and making me meet his eyes. “You were the one who wanted me for the role?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I felt the rush of blood flood my cheeks. “You were my muse while I wrote the book.”
He looked shocked. “Me?”
I decided to be honest. “I’ve followed your career. I’ve always been a fan. You have the right intensity to play Duncan.” I shifted, warming to my words. “You’re not Nicholas on the screen. You’re the character. You melt into the role. I’m sure it’s not, but it seems effortless. I wanted that for this film. I wanted you. I pushed very hard for it.”
For a moment, there was nothing but the heat of his stare. “Even with my reputation?” he asked quietly.
“I don’t listen to gossip. I make up my own mind.”
Something passed over his face. An expression I couldn’t identify. But I could see pain and worry behind it. Anxiety. “I hope I don’t disappoint.”
I shook my head. “You won’t.”
He dropped his hand, and I instantly missed his touch. He didn’t say anything for a moment.
He pulled something from his back pocket, holding it out.
“My hair clip!”
“You dropped it. I was hoping I’d see you again to give it back. I didn’t have it on me earlier,” he added with a slight edge to his voice.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I just didn’t know how to tell you.”
“What happened today? Can you explain it to me?” he asked.
She sighed and nodded. “I have a condition.”
“What kind of condition?”
“It’s called vasovagal syncope. It causes a sudden drop in blood pressure, and I faint.”
He leaned forward, gripping my knees. “Is it serious?”
“It can be, but mine is not. I’ve had it most of my life. When I get overly stressed or something else triggers it, I drop.” I shrugged, feeling self-conscious. “It hasn’t happened in a long time.”