Silence stretched around the table until it tipped the scale into awkward. None of them knew what to say with their star sharing the table, which was just odd considering the things they’d said before.
Leanne grinned as she took in their serious, sullen faces. “I should take a picture of this moment. It’ll be the only time you’re sitting still and quiet.”
Brian snorted. “If we could replicate this on set, we’d get a heck of a lot more done in a day.”
Everyone laughed, while Aidan scowled. “I know that was a dig at me,” he muttered.
“Was it?” Brian asked, his face a mask of innocence. He turned to Shaun before Aidan could respond. “It’s nice to see you off the set, man. How’s it going?”
“Little more disorganised now that you lot have stolen my assistant, but things are looking up.” He nudged me with his leg. As if I could miss the meaning behind that comment.
Brian’s gaze flicked to me. It was brief, but I noticed. I sank back into the seat. He suspects something. Other than surprise, I didn’t feel all that much about it. When had I stopped caring if people figured us out? A week ago, it terrified me. Maybe it was nothing more than the endorphins from a week of great sex messing with my head.
I really needed to talk to Isla. If my perspective had shifted, she could help me figure it out.
“We haven’t noticed on set. Bonuses of being a professional actor, hey?” Brian asked, raising his glass to toast Shaun.
Shaun chuckled. “It definitely comes in handy sometimes.”
The lights shifted and guitar riffs echoed through the room. The crowd hushed, and everyone’s focus shifted to the band on stage.
“Well, don’t you all look lovely tonight,” the lead singer of Lover’s Knot shouted, smirking as the crowd screamed.
Tilly gasped. So much for them not playing. She didn’t bother asking anyone to move. She stood up on her seat, scrambling over the table. Everyone grabbed their drinks before she could knock them over.
“Geez, Tilly, men don’t like it when you’re that eager,” Aidan shouted after her, his voice carrying across the crowd.
Tilly, to her credit, didn’t turn around. She held up her middle finger and ploughed into the crowd.
The singer didn’t so much as pause, taking it all in his stride.
“That was a pretty shitty thing to do to a stranger, but your colleague? Geez, man. Don’t take lessons from me,” Shaun muttered, his voice cutting.
Aidan’s face reddened. At least he had the good sense to shut his mouth and stew in his shame.
“I’m so surprised you got on with them,” I said when we were locked in his flat a few hours later. The clock on his oven said it was after midnight. No wonder my stomach is trying to eat itself. “Do you have any food here?”
I was sat on the island counter, watching Shaun pour us waters.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder with more than a little bit of lust darkening his eyes.
“For food.”
Shaun nodded, a devious look taking over his features.
“I’ve got potato waffles, I think. I’ve been on set so much I haven’t been shopping, and I don’t have an assistant to stock the fridge.” He shot me an amused look.
“Blaming me for your inability to feed me,” I muttered, shaking my head. “And I thought you wanted to get laid.”
He rushed me then, pushing my legs apart and sliding me closer to the edge of the counter until I was flush against his rock-hard body. I shivered as his hands slid featherlight up my back and arms, leaving tingles in their wake. In a movement as graceful as his dance moves, he lowered his head and began tracing kisses from my jaw to the edge of my lips. The counter lined us up perfectly, the bulge in his jeans pressing into me. I couldn’t help the moan that left my mouth when he rubbed himself against me.
“Still thinking about withholding sex?” he whispered against my cheek.
I growled. “Gimme the potato waffles.”
Chuckling, he pulled back and set to work feeding me. When my stomach had stopped grumbling, he took the plate and returned to his previous position.
“Need something?” I asked, smirking at him.
“Hmm.”
His fingers wandered over my thighs, catching the edge of my dress and pushing it up until it bunched at my waist. With one hand, he pulled me to the edge of the counter again while the other dipped to the top of my underwear, toying with the lace, teasing me.
He watched me through hooded eyes while I bit my lip against the need to beg him to touch me properly. Instead, I threaded my hands in his hair and kissed him, hard. He groaned, the sound vibrating in my mouth as he tilted his head to deepen the connection.
Pushing the fabric aside, he slid two fingers into me. My hips jolted, his hand on my other thigh the only reason I didn’t fall off the counter. He pushed, in and out, until all I could do was press my forehead to his shoulder and hold on for dear life as sensation folded me. He stared back at me, his gaze fiery with promise and his lips curled with the knowledge that he could do this to me.
“Lean back on your elbows,” he urged, his voice thick as he removed his fingers.
I welcomed the feel of the cold marble against the heated skin of my forearms. It momentarily distracted me from watching Shaun. He dipped his head, his tongue flicking against my already sensitised flesh. My hips automatically shifted, chasing for more.
Chuckling, he held me down again, continuing to lick and tease me until holding myself up became too much. I lay back against the counter and shut my eyes, lost to the rub of his tongue lapping at me.
Soon pressure started to surge, and I gripped the edge of the counter. He added his fingers to the mix and I gave in, falling over the edge. His name echoed around the big space as I came back to myself.
“I’m never going to get tired of that,” he said, his voice hoarse. He was grinning with pleasure when he pulled me up.
Me either.
Without another word, he carried me to his bed, stripped us down and continued to fuck me into the early hours of the morning. Only somewhere along the line, it stopped feeling like fucking to me. His tender touches spoke louder than that one word.
I shut my brain off and I enjoyed every single moment.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“You have a thing about leaving me hanging, sis. I was expecting an update weeks ago,” Isla said, her tone teasing but her words sparking guilt.
I used to call and text her almost daily before the move. Only, once I got here, I’d been so busy with everything that finding a quiet moment had proven difficult.
Shaun still lay in bed as the sun just crested the sky, and I’d barely slept. I couldn’t shut my mind off. It was too busy trying to pinpoint when things had shifted in my head. I was getting nowhere on my own, which is why I now sat curled up on Shaun’s sofa talking to my sister.
“Sorry. Time’s just gotten away from me.” I glanced at the rising sun, the reflection refracting off the water and surrounding glass. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”
She’d always been an early riser, but I should have thought.
“No, you’re good. I was just about to head out for a run,” she said, her voice soft. I could imagine her tiptoeing around her flat to avoid waking the neighbours. “Put the phone on video chat. I need to see your face.”
I did as told, trying for a smile to ease the tiredness. Isla frowned.
“Mona, what are you doing up? You look exhausted.” Concern filled her expression and a wave of homesickness hit me.
Nothing was wrong, really. I had the man – for now. I enjoyed my job. Soon I would wave goodbye to my awful flatmates. Things were exciting for once.
Yet seeing my sister made me want a hug.
“I’ve just got some things on my mind,” I said, frowning as I tried to figure out where to start.
“Man things?” Isla’s eyebrows rose. “As in Shaun things?” At my nod, she grinned. “How’s the se
x?”
“Isla.”
“What? This is big news.” She laughed at my pained expression. “I couldn’t understand why you quit when Sherry called me, but now it makes so much sense. Well done, sis.”
I chuckled at that. I hadn’t quit to sleep with Shaun. I’d quit to escape him. Even so, the fact she felt proud of me for having sex seemed pretty ridiculous but so like Isla. It made me miss her more.
“So, you got the guy and you’ve found another job I assume?” She tilted her head in question and I nodded. “So, what’s eating you?”
“You remember you said that it’s normal in this industry for people to get involved?” I chewed my lip.
“With bosses and co-workers, yes. The lines are pretty blurry.”
“Do you think that means they don’t actually care?” I took a deep breath while her eyes narrowed, trying to decode my meaning. “If they found out about me and Shaun, would it cause me problems?’
“You’re not his assistant anymore. There’s nothing for them to say. They’ll gossip. Everyone does in this industry, but will they burn you? No.” She shook her head. “Not that I think it would have caused you any real issues if you were still working for him.”
“But the press—”
“Honestly, Mona, don’t believe everything you read. You could be perfectly above board and all it would take is one completely innocent look from him caught by a photographer and you’d be having a secret affair with a baby on the way.” Isla snorted, her eyes shining with memory. “One day, I’ll point out all the lies the tabloids made up or the real stories they missed. Once I retire, of course.”
I smiled at that. She’d always been tight-lipped about her clients, no matter how much she claimed NDAs didn’t apply to sisters.
“So, circling back,” I muttered, “if the crew found out, it wouldn’t stop me getting another job in TV?”
“Definitely not. They’d probably hire you in the hope they could talk him into cameos.” Her amusement faded, and she watched me with a gentle smile. “But you don’t care, anyway.”
It wasn’t a question, but I answered all the same. “I don’t know when I stopped caring. I’d rather have him kiss me good morning than go the entire day without it. I like him bringing me lunch. I don’t want him to stop because the production staff are suspicious.”
“The production staff knew the moment you quit,” Isla said, her incredulous gaze telling me I should have known that already. “Production know everything. It’s their job to be two steps ahead of the rest of them.”
Alys’s knowing look popped into my head. Maybe she was right.
As terrifying as that thought was, it also gave me relief knowing that nothing I did from here on out could actually do me any damage. Yes, the press could find out and they’d print whatever they wanted, but we would know it wasn’t true. Things looked a lot brighter.
When Shaun ushered me into the make-up trailer at 3PM the following Wednesday, I thought he was being a bit keen. Then Jenna, the hair and make-up assistant, forced my head over a basin. The curls I’d carefully crafted overnight melted in seconds, and I went back to square one.
Shaun was extremely lucky that he was needed on set because I might have shouted at him for the lack of warning. Instead, I got to scowl at the poor assistant, who was doing nothing but following orders. Mind you, she scowled right back at me, and I relaxed.
Or I relaxed as much as possible knowing a thousand people would stare at me tonight at the charity dinner. I’d break out in hives if I thought about the cameras and the millions around the world who would see me walk into the venue beside Shaun.
Jenna did her best to calm me, but in the end, only threatening my eyes with liquid eyeliner brushes and mascara wands controlled the agitated bounce of my foot.
Neither Alys nor Heather so much as blinked when I asked to take half the day off to attend this event with Shaun. They agreed faster than I thought they would, making me think that Isla had been on to something.
It took two hours, a bottle of pastel pink hair dye, heated curlers, many strips of hot wax, a truckload of body lotion and an ungodly amount of make-up before Jenna released me. I sighed when she finally declared, “That’s you finished.”
And then Moira appeared and the torture recommenced, but with shapewear and boob tape that refused to work. I said as much, but Moira disagreed and forced it on me.
As predicted, it lasted less than thirty minutes before its fight against gravity failed.
I might have crowed with delight when Moira had to ditch her plans of putting me in a backless dress. And Moira might have worn a huge grin while she ripped the tape and a layer of skin off my torso. We silently called a truce after that.
The backless black dress returned to the rack, and Moira disappeared into the rows of clothes she’d picked out for me. When I say rows, I mean rows. There were at least three of them. Why did I need so many choices for a charity dinner?
Moira held up a burgundy-red dress and I shook my head. Red dress and pink hair… could I please not look like a wash gone wrong in the photos?
She shelved it without comment.
Next came an emerald-green satin gown that made my mouth water. It matched Shaun’s eyes and was the epitome of a dream dress with its bunched skirt. I’d never worn anything like it. Unfortunately, or fortunately, I wasn’t in lust enough with it to forget that I would look like a washed-out Christmas tree.
Maybe it’s time for the pink hair to go.
“I love the statement, Mona. It looks great on you, but can you be any harder to dress?” Moira scoffed, pulling two more options off the racks.
My eyes fixed on the rose-gold dress. It was glittery and form-fitting, but in the old-school Coco Chanel style. I’d be able to breathe and eat without worrying about photos.
“Do you think that’ll be too matchy-matchy?” I asked the question begrudgingly. I didn’t need Moira to answer. I already knew it was.
She nodded, her mouth pulled in a sympathetic pout.
“Give me the black one.” I held my hand out for it without really looking at it.
I loved my hair, but oh boy, did it restrict my choices. If this thing with Shaun was going to last, I needed to consider dyeing my hair a more normal shade.
And then I mentally slapped myself for even thinking that. If it was going to last? Geez, I needed to study the definition of casual. Things might feel different for me, but that didn’t mean Shaun was on the same page.
Six PM rolled around, and I was decked out in the floor-length, figure-hugging lace dress. It had a huge slit up the front, and most of my chest and stomach was exposed under the black lace. Three-inch rose-gold Louboutins completed my glitzy outfit.
We’d had another argument over those. She’d tried to hand me four-inch heels. However, considering I’d nearly fallen on my ass the moment I tried to take a step, Moira conceded to limiting her expectations.
“This is an Elie Saab,” I gasped while I studied myself in the mirror at the back of the trailer.
“It is,” Moira confirmed, far more focused on returning designer clothes to their hangers than my wide-eyed glittery freak-out waiting to happen.
“But what if I destroy it?” My hands wrapped around my stomach, as though I could protect the dress from myself.
She shrugged. “It’s insured.”
Mildly comforted, I returned to studying the person in the mirror who couldn’t possibly be me. My hair was perfectly curled in a 1920s wave. My lips were painted with a deep red I’d always shied away from, certain it was too bold for me. My shying days were over.
“Do you think it’s too much?” I asked Moira. It was a beautiful dress. I looked incredible in it. But I showed a lot of skin and this was a charity event for refugees. Is this normal?
Moira didn’t answer. Impatient for a reply, I spun around to demand her attention like the off-kilter little girl I was.
Shaun stood before me, his muscular body encased in a well-tailo
red black suit and crisp white shirt. His hair was clean but untamed, and mixed with his formal attire, it gave him a rich bad-boy vibe that was doing far too much for me. His bow tie was rose-gold, a touch that both surprised and delighted me.
His wide eyes appraised my body, and I couldn’t miss the heat in them when they reached my face. He swallowed. “You look incredible.” His eyes dipped lower then, fixating on the lace covering my chest.
“You don’t think it’s too much?”
“It’s more than perfect.” He smirked when he caught me watching him. “I might need to keep my arm around you all night. Can’t have anyone trying to whisk you away from me and causing a fight. Sherry would not be pleased if your dress got me on the front cover, torn up and bloody defending you.”
I laughed as he’d intended.
He pulled me into his arms and I went more than willingly. I settled against his chest, my hands creeping around his neck to toy with the fine hair at the base.
The laughter faded from his face as he considered me. “It’s all going to be fine, Mona. You look great. We just have to take some pictures, eat dinner, have one dance, show our faces and then we can skip out while no one’s looking.”
“You actually think we can sneak out without anyone noticing?”
He shrugged. “I’ve done it before. This time will be no different.” His expression darkened, the lust returned and an answering heat unfurled inside of me. “It better be no different. I need to be in control when I take this dress off you. Moira’s too good with her pins to miss out on revenge.”
I patted his shoulder, amusement easing the nerves holding my stomach hostage. “I’m sure you can survive a few hours, Hotshot.”
“I’m glad one of us has faith in me.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Between Takes Page 18