An Unexpected Affair (Forsaken Sons Book 4)

by Elizabeth Lennox

  Evie ran her hands through her hair in frustration. “Do any of those scripts contain the depth of character that this one does?”

  Jerry hesitated, and shook his head. “Well, no. But you could…?”

  The office door opened and a tall, irritated man entered the room. “Did she sign it?”

  Brock Severson! He was taller than she’d remembered, Evie thought, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him. He fisted his hands on his hips and glared right back at her.

  “No, she hasn’t,” Evie replied sarcastically.

  Jerry cleared his throat. “Uh…Mr. Severson! It’s a pleasure to meet you!” Always the sycophant, Jerry hurried around his desk, his hand extended.

  The jerk ignored Jerry’s hand and turned to Evie. “Are you going to sign it?”

  She set her feet, her chin jutting out defiantly. “I’ll sign the regular contract. Not the addendum.”

  “Not a chance. If you want to play Lucy, then sign the addendum. I don’t play games. If you start drinking again, you’re out of the movie. If you take any kind of illegal drug, you’re out of the movie. If you don’t show up for any of the pre or post production marketing events, you’ll pay back the production costs for everyone on the set.”

  Evie couldn’t believe her ears! “I don’t drink and I’ve never done drugs of any kind!” He might be drool-worthy handsome and ruggedly powerful, but that didn’t excuse his attitude. He didn’t even know her! How could he stand here, listing all of those humiliating contract terms?!

  “According to the rumors floating around the industry, you do.”

  Her hand sliced through the air with her fury! “You and I both know that rumors in this town are rarely true.”

  His eyes narrowed and he braced his hands wide apart on the polished conference room table, glaring right back at Evie. “No, I don’t know that. In fact, from my experience, the rumors circulating through this town are either completely accurate or have at least a hint of truth to them. And even a hint of alcohol or illegal drugs are not allowed on my set.”

  Evie stepped closer, looking directly into his eyes. She couldn’t back down, this part was too important. To her and to her life. To her self-esteem. This movie would put her into an entirely different realm of actors! It was a once in a lifetime role.

  “Okay, here’s my counter offer,” she replied, moving to the opposite side of Jerry’s conference room table, mimicking his stance. She was intimidated by this guy, but no way was she going to let him see that!

  “I don’t negotiate,” he growled out.

  Evie ignored him. She hadn’t been working in this industry for the past twenty-three years without learning a thing or two. Granted, she’d been away for several years, but those years had only made her smarter. Harder! Tougher and definitely more determined.

  “If you’re going to subject me to random drug test and random trailer searches because of your all-important anti-drug code, then every single member of the crew and cast must be subjected to the same terms. And if you drug test me, then you drug test at least three other cast or crew members on the same day.”

  Brock eyed the woman he could have sworn was a delicate, flighty bimbo. Her dark hair and fascinating, silver eyes were all part of a carefully curated image. This woman wasn’t soft. She damn well wasn’t flighty. And damn, she was hot when she leaned over like that. Not only because he could see down her silk blouse. But because those silver eyes glowed with intelligence. A surprise, to say the least. Not to mention, that famous dimple had appeared. He’d seen her smile before. Hell, she’d been plastered on billboards and posters all over the world. That damn dimple was famous! But he’d thought dimples only came out when someone smiled. Not when they were negotiating terms of a contract. Damn it, that dimple distracted him!

  “Why would I test the rest of the crew?” he demanded, trying hard not to lose focus as he looked into those gorgeous eyes.

  She was trembling with fury. “Because you’re claiming to be anti-drug and anti-alcohol. A better question would be why you wouldn’t do random drug tests for everyone on set?”

  She had a valid point, not that he was ready to admit it. “The rest of the crew won’t impact the schedule if they have to head off to rehab again.”

  He watched her silver eyes flash with rage and those full, sexy lips compressed into a thin line. But he’d give her credit, the woman rallied quickly.

  “So it’s okay if the prop master goes on a wild LSD trip and, while under the influence, unknowingly exchanges the blank bullets in a prop gun for real bullets?” She paused to let that sink in. “Or maybe it would be fine if the makeup artist goes out to a bar one night, has a few too many drinks and sleeps with someone who has…” she threw her arms in the air, “…oh I don’t know…maybe pink eye or a virus. The next morning, that artist rubs her eyes, then does my makeup or the makeup of the other actors? A few days later, we’re all sick!” She paused again and Brock had to concede that she had a valid point. “Or if the camera operator smokes weed in the morning, just enough to get him through the tedium of the constant stops and starts on the set? Or the stagehands that are in control of the heavy machinery, lights, cameras…if they decide to snort a bit of white stuff and don’t notice that loose bolt. Anything could happen and heavy pieces of equipment could be severely damaged, possibly inflicting personal injury!”

  “Okay!” he bellowed, pushing up to a standing position, wanting to intimidate her. But she didn’t seem intimidated. Not even a little. Unlike most people who cowered at his anger, Evie Munroe stood up to him. And damn, he couldn’t help but admire her for that.

  “You’re right. I concede.” He leaned forward again, glaring at her. “But I’m not taking any chances on you. You will participate in the drug testing as well. No exceptions.”

  He watched with fascination as her lips curled up slightly. She mimicked his body language and he knew he was in trouble before she uttered the words. “No exceptions means the director as well.”

  Damn! As the producer and director, she was right. “Fine! I’ll be included in the random drug tests. No problem.” He didn’t do drugs. Ever!

  “Fine!” she echoed with a curt nod. “Issue number two!” she snapped, pointing to the contract. “If I’m not allowed to drink alcohol,” she smiled, but it was a triumphant expression, “then no one on the set gets to.”

  He stared at her, letting those words filter into his brain. He thought about it for a long moment, considering the issues. “Alcohol isn’t illegal. I can’t enforce a total ban on alcohol for the entire crew.”

  Her shoulders swung back and forth slightly. “Sure you can,” she purred in a sultry tone that he could feel all the way down to his toes. “You simply require them to sign a contract, just like this one,” she replied and pushed the now-hated contract document across the polished surface of the desk with a single finger. “If they don’t sign the agreement, they don’t work. Isn’t that what you just said about me?”

  She had him there. And he didn’t like it. Not one little bit. Not to mention, although he wasn’t a heavy drinker, he occasionally had a glass of scotch after a long day. But he couldn’t argue against her point. “Agreed.”

  Evie pushed up from the table, shocked that she’d won. Brock Severson was reputed to be one of the toughest producers and directors to work with in the industry. He demanded so much from his actors and team, but everyone wanted to work with him. Including Evie. She wanted this role desperately. She wanted to get away from the stupid bimbo characters she was offered and sink her teeth into some real acting. This was her chance.

  Blinking, she looked around, startled to realize that they were still in her agent’s office and Jerry was standing off to the side. She swallowed a laugh at the shocked, intimidated expression on his face.

  “We’re done here,” she whispered, pulling herself back into her shell. She’d revealed more of her true self over the past…however long that argument had lasted…than she ever
had in her entire life. Now she needed to process. She needed to close her eyes and breathe away the tension. Looking down at the paper, she scribbled the final concession – that these terms were only enforceable if they were applied to all members of the cast and crew, then signed her name, adding another line where the arrogant, miserable, irritatingly tall, and arrogant…wait, she’d said that already…jerk-man Brock Severson…had she said “arrogant” twice? Didn’t matter. Now, he had a line to sign.

  Without another word, Evie picked up her purse and stalked out of her agent’s office. With her head held high, she forced her feet to carry her through the building, ignoring the curious stares of Jerry’s staff.

  Even that was shameful, Evie thought as she ducked into the elevator. Leaning against the back wall, she waited until the doors closed before…Nope! She couldn’t break down yet. Her eyes glanced up at the ceiling, then at the panel of buttons. There was a security camera in this space somewhere. There was always a camera somewhere.

  When the doors of the elevator opened up, she walked sedately to her silver Mercedes and slid into the driver’s seat. Pressing the button to start the car, Evie pretended that her hands weren’t shaking. She pretended that she was perfectly fine.

  A half hour later, she pulled into the driveway of her house, pressed the remote button that opened the gate, then pulled into the garage as the door slid closed behind her and parked her beautiful Mercedes next to the less glamorous hatchback. Only then, when she was sure that there were no cameras anywhere did she finally drop her head into her hands and let the stress of the meeting, the horror and shame of those accusations, wash over her.

  Unfortunately, after years of pretending, she still couldn’t let go. Even in the privacy of her garage, a space where there were no cameras, not even windows, Evie still couldn’t let go.

  But she knew what would help!

  Getting out of the car, she walked into her house. Her precious, beautiful house! “I’m going to be okay,” she whispered to herself as she walked down the hallway, dumping her purse on the floor just inside her bedroom door. She stripped off the linen slacks and silk blouse, tossing them onto her bed as she moved over to her dresser. There she grabbed a pair of workout leggings and a sports bra, not bothering with shoes or socks.

  Her house was tiny compared to the other homes in the area, but one space she hadn’t scrimped on was her private gym. Grabbing the boxing gloves, she strapped them on as she walked over to the punching bag. On the way, she hit the button, turning on the stereo system and her favorite playlist started. For boxing, she loved a rock sound that blasted through the room, pumping through her blood. The music was so loud, she couldn’t hear herself think, which was exactly what she wanted. Punching and jabbing, she pushed herself as hard as she could, pounding padded fists against the one hundred pound weight bag until her arms ached.

  When the playlist reached the softer, cool down music, Evie felt one hundred percent better. Sweat dripped down her face and arms, and she probably wouldn’t be able to lift her arms tomorrow, but at least she didn’t feel as if she might shatter into a million pieces. Right now, she felt…used up. Tired. But really good!

  Stripping off her clothes, she got into the shower and let the warm water soothe her abused muscles. Closing her eyes, she relaxed into the heat of the spray, leaning against the tiles and let the water work it’s magic.

  With a chuckle, Evie shampooed her hair, rinsing away the soap, sweat, and long day. “Drugs!” she scoffed. “Right! As if I’d ruin my body and mind by doing drugs!”

  When she stepped out, Evie felt better, but her stomach growled. “I know. Food.” She slipped into a robe and headed for the kitchen.

  Evie flipped through the script as she nibbled on an apple. “This is so good,” she whispered, feeling a surge of power as she read through the lines. “I get to murder someone!”

  With a laugh, she jumped off the stool and spun in a circle, excited despite the humiliating terms of her contract. At this particular moment, she didn’t care that a stupid, arrogant, self-righteous jerk thought that she was a screw up. She was going to play Lucy!

  Chapter 3

  Evie stood in the back of the group, just as confused as everyone else. This was the first day of filming. Normally, the sound stage would be practically vibrating with energy as the cast and crew learned their roles and lines. There would be last minute hammering as the stage crew worked to fix small parts of the stage, prop managers would be running around, gathering up props or delivering them to the stage. People would be yelling, someone would trip over the wires that snaked across the floor. Lights, cameras and…well, none of that was happening.

  Instead, everyone, cast and crew, were gathered together, waiting for an announcement.

  “Thanks everyone!” Monty, the assistant director, called out as he appeared from the office to stand in front of the group. “Is everyone here?” he asked, looking around. He scanned the crowd, but stopped when he caught sight of Evie, leaning against the wall, her arms folded. She should be in makeup. Correction, she should have been out of makeup and heading towards wardrobe. Instead, the makeup and wardrobe crew were here, waiting on whatever Monty was about to say.

  Because the assistant director’s gaze stopped on Evie, she was fairly sure that she understood that, out of everyone else in the room, the man wanted to ensure that she was here. The rest of the crew could be off doing…whatever. So this message was for her. A not so cleverly disguised group conference meeting.

  “What’s going on, Monty?” One of the prop managers yelled. He was about five feet from where Evie was standing and looked impatient and irritated. They all were. Everyone here knew that any sort of delay in a filming day cost money. And yet, they were all standing here. Waiting.

  “I’d like to remind everyone about the contract addendum that you signed. You all agreed to random drug testing.” There was a chorus of groans, hisses, and muttering curses. Monty ignored it all and waved his clipboard. “Every morning, I’ll have a randomly generated list of members that will be required to take a drug test before work. I’m warning everyone now – if you don’t submit to the drug test when your name comes up, then you won’t be paid for the hours, nor will you be allowed back on set until you’ve complied. Everyone should submit their urine sample,” he had to pause as several people snickered, “before eight o’clock each morning. I’ll be checking daily with the lab we’ve hired. If you haven’t taken the test, you’re gone.” He waved the clipboard again. “On this clipboard is a list of people the studio has on standby, ready to take your place. So, if you have anything hokey in your systems now, you’d better pray that your name doesn’t come up today. Brock is determined to make this a drug free set.”

  He didn’t ask for comments or concerns. He just started calling out names. One by one, the people either sighed and walked towards the door where a lab technician waited with a box of drug test kits, or they turned and left the studio, knowing that they wouldn’t pass the test.

  Evie wasn’t surprised when Monty looked directly at her and said, “Evie Munroe.” There was a communal gasp when Evie’s name was called out. She swallowed a snicker, wondering if they’d assumed that the acting staff was exempt.

  Almost in unison, the remaining crew turned and looked at her, everyone wondering if she was going to throw a tantrum. It was what most actors would do.

  Instead, Evie pushed away from the wall and, at that same moment, her eyes clashed with a pair of dark, furious eyes. Brock. He’d been watching from the shadows, lurking behind a camera. For a long moment, she held his gaze, daring him to say something. But his expression didn’t change in any way.

  Evie walked over to the technician and accepted the container. Yes, she was going to have to pee in this tiny little cup. Yes, someone was going to be watching her. Yes, it was going to be embarrassing. But if it meant that she could do this movie instead of the humiliating, insubstantial roles that had been offered to her recently, she’d
pee in a cup every single day. Her agent had called just last night, letting her know that a director had called with a script named “Bunnies at Ten”, a horror movie which Jerry said had a social statement mixed into the subtext. Right. Evie seriously doubted that anything with ‘Bunnies’ in the title could have a very strong social statement. He’d argued that it paid three times what she was earning here on “Dawn”, although the director wasn’t offering her a percentage of the royalties. In the long run, if Evie could pull off this role, she could be earning ten times the salary of “Bunnies”!

  And Evie was determined to kill this role, no pun intended.

  Five minutes later, she put the urine sample on the edge of the sink, smiled politely at the technician who seemed to be just as embarrassed as she was, then headed for makeup.

  “That was pointless,” Brenda grumbled as she started working on Evie’s makeup while Josie, the hair stylist, went to work on Evie’s hair.

  “Tell me about it,” Josie mumbled around several bobby pins in her mouth as she twisted Evie’s long, dark locks.

  Evie didn’t say anything as the two women worked their magic. A half hour later, gone were the dark circles under Evie’s eyes. She hadn’t slept last night, too worried about the start of filming today as well as about seeing Brock again. About seeing the derision on his handsome face. He was an acting legend. He’d won several Oscars and had received several nominations for the films he’d directed and produced.

  As she headed to wardrobe, Evie caught a glimpse of the man himself. He was conferring with Monty and Gerald, his assistant producer, about the day’s schedule. She found herself entranced by his hand as he pointed to the script. Nice hands, she thought. Long, lean fingers and short, tidy nails. Evie wondered what it would be like to be touched by hands like those. She’d bet they were strong, capable hands.