by E V Darcy
‘Thanks,’ she said quietly to the man next to her, raising her glass to her lips quickly, hiding the small nod she gave to Marc as he turned his gaze back to her. At the action, Marc turned his eyes to his friend, staring at him in horror and disbelief. Paige knew Marc was wondering if his friend knew too but hadn’t said anything, or if he was being an idiot and hadn’t figured out that he was the father.
‘I was just saying,’ Ellie told Casey. ‘Marc should go on Paige’s show.’
‘For what?’ Casey asked. He looked at his friend in bewilderment. ‘You hate anything like that—hell, you didn’t even do half the promo stuff we did for Destiny.’
‘Well, I could talk about Tyler’s hearing and champion sign language,’ Marc interjected, just as Casey downed the glass of bourbon he’d brought back with Paige’s soft drink. Casey coughed at the suggestion, choking on his drink as he looked at Marc to see if his friend was serious. Paige quickly patted Casey’s back, but he brushed her off.
‘Seriously?’ he asked Marc, who nodded. ‘I thought you wanted the munchkin out of the spotlight again.’
‘I do, I’m not suggesting taking him with me. Just talking about how we should be more inclusive.’ Casey raised his brow at his friend, before glancing towards Ellie—who looked just as surprised if her gaping mouth was anything to go by—and then to Paige.
‘We could certainly do something with that, I’m sure,’ Paige said hesitantly. ‘I think the producers would be ecstatic to get you on the show.’
‘Brilliant! Ellie, why don’t you and Casey go dance while Paige and I have a chat about it.’
‘I—’ Ellie’s protest was cut off as Marc turned his head towards her. Paige watched the interaction with interest as she sipped her ice-cold drink. Some sort of understanding seemed to pass between the two, as Ellie suddenly brightened and perked up.
‘C’mon, old man,’ she said to Casey as Marc climbed out of the booth first. ‘Show me those hips still work.’
‘Oh God, don’t say that to him,’ Marc groaned as he retook his seat and Casey laughed as Ellie pretended to help him up. Paige and Marc watched with wide, overly bright smiles as the pair made their way to the dance floor.
Marc turned on her the moment the two disappeared into the crowd of dancers.
‘Does he know?’ He didn’t beat about the bush. Paige liked that.
She shook her head. ‘No, he never let me get past the whole, I’m pregnant part.’
He groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. ‘He’s a dickhead. That’s what Tanya always used to say, and it’s true. Do you want him to know?’
‘Of course!’ she exclaimed with a frown. ‘Hell, until today I thought that he did know and just didn’t want anything to do with a baby. He told me he didn’t want kids. Then today he says if he ever had kids… and it wasn’t a not one I just don’t acknowledge remark, either. He spoke like he genuinely had no idea he was going to be a father.’
Marc sighed as he looked at her again, his fingers to his lips as he fell into deep thought, and Paige bit the inside of her mouth to stop herself speaking, giving the man a moment to gather himself.
‘Okay, so he’s assumed it’s someone else’s’—he narrowed his eyes at her—‘could it be?’
‘No. Fucking. Way,’ she said pointedly. ‘Before Casey, I hadn’t had sex for over a year.’
‘But you were married.’
‘And?’ she said haughtily.
‘Okay.’ He rubbed his forehead and Paige wondered if he was trying to fend off a headache. She was starting to get one. ‘So why the hell does he think it could be someone else’s?’
She didn’t even have to think about it, recalling with perfect clarity what Casey had said to her backstage, on The Emma Janney Show. ‘He thought I’d gone back to my husband—Daniel. Apparently, the bastard had spoken to Casey after we had a massive blow-up at the hospital. He wanted to get back with me and I told him to go fuck himself. So he told Casey that we hadn’t even split up.’
Marc grimaced at that. ‘And it’s definitely not true?’
‘No!’ she exclaimed, slamming her hands on the table.
‘Okay,’ he said, softening his voice, hands up trying to placate her. ‘I just wanted to check. I don’t want him being screwed over.’
‘I wouldn’t do that,’ she said, truthfully. ‘Not to him, never.’ She shook her head. Marc considered her for a moment, his bright blue eyes taking her in, weighing her, deciding if he could trust her. While he was younger than Casey, his gaze seemed so much more knowledgeable, so much more experienced when it came to matters of the heart, and she wondered what had happened to give him such understanding.
‘Okay,’ he finally said. ‘I believe you, but—’
‘My God, Marc!’ Casey came back to the booth and collapsed into it, interrupting their conversation. ‘That woman’—he pointed in Ellie’s direction over the tabletop—‘is lying about her age. She’s not over thirty with moves like that.’
Ellie bounced down in the seat opposite, laughing, her eyes bright with merriment.
‘Hey!’ Paige protested and gazed down at him. ‘I’m thirty-seven, and you know how well I can move.’
Casey stared at up her from his prone position on the bench. He reached up and tucked the strands of hair, that had fallen from her up-do, back behind her ear.
‘That I do, Kitten, that I do,’ he murmured.
Casey was enjoying having Paige next to him. They sat so close that she was a line of warmth against him. Her hand had constantly been touching his as they spoke; she gave a gentle squeeze or a slight caress of her fingers. Marc, the bastard, kept throwing Casey knowing glances at each and every touch.
But now, now it was even better. She had her arm wrapped around Casey’s back, head resting on his shoulder, while she listened to Marc telling one of the many tales of Casey’s antics on the set of Destiny. Her leg draped over Casey’s and his hand was on her thigh, just under the hem of her dress, and all felt right with the world.
He felt at peace with himself and all around him. This was what he had been missing out on. He’d sat around with the boys at bars, chatting up women, but he’d never had his friends connect with them because they’d been nothing more than a quick shag. But this—Paige—was a completely different kettle of fish.
This was what he wanted, what he needed in his life, he realised as he laughed at the end of Marc’s tale, enjoying the throaty giggle Paige gave more than he enjoyed the story itself. He squeezed her thigh gently and heard her give a small purr of pleasure at the action. He smirked inwardly, sliding his hand further up, over her stocking tops—damn!—and she willingly shifted to accommodate him.
His fingers flickered over the satin of her knickers and he smirked at the knowledge they were again a set of fancy-ass Frenchies. He wondered if they were the only things she wore or were reserved for nights out.
She widened her legs slightly further, and he moved his hand under the silky material, gently caressing her bare pussy lips; it made her breath stutter as his fingers found her hot and wet for him already.
Fuck, her hand dropped from the table and fell into his lap where she instantly sought his bulging erection. Her fingers traced his aching length over the material of his suit trousers and he bit his lip as she began searching for the zipper.
‘I’m going to get some more drinks,’ Marc said. ‘Ellie, can you come with me and help, please?’
Casey didn’t hear her response; he was just fucking grateful that Marc hadn’t called them out on their public groping and was giving them space.
‘Casey,’ Paige said, her hand reaching up to turn his face to hers. He didn’t have to reach forward to claim her lips, they were already there. His tongue traced their softness, and she instantly opened her mouth, welcoming him in. He turned in his seat properly, wrapping her in his one arm and pulling her against him. He’d never been so grateful for the privacy of a booth as he was at that moment. He was going to have her right
here and now, with everyone out there, the sounds of people partying unaware of the cries of pleasure Paige would be making, her screams of ecstasy would be swallowed up by the music pumping through the club, but anyone could stumble upon them… could see what they were doing…
‘Fuck, Paige,’ he murmured against her as he gently pushed her back into the booth. ‘Missed you,’ he said. ‘Missed you so fucking much.’
His hand ran back under her dress, up to her knickers and found exactly where he’d been a moment before. Now with one leg off the edge of the bench, he had better access and his fingers slipped between her lips with ease, finding her wet and open for him, so ready and willing.
‘Miss you too,’ she told him as she gazed up at him. Her green eyes darkened with desire and lust for him. ‘Only want you,’ she purred. ‘Want you so bad.’
The words broke him, and he claimed her mouth again, stopping anything else she could say. He only wanted to hear her panting, crying out his name as he made her come.
‘Kitten,’ he murmured against her mouth as he shifted slightly, trying to give her access to his zip again. ‘I’m going to take you right here, in front of everyone’—she moaned dirtily as he said the words, just as his thumb brushed over her clit—‘just as you’ve always wanted. I’m going to fuck you so hard they’ll hear you over the music, they’ll think you’re being murdered and come running, then they’ll just stand and watch us. Watch me fucking you, getting as hard and wet as we are, wishing they could be you, or me getting to have you—’
‘What the fuck’s going on!’ Tristan’s voice interrupted Casey’s dirty tirade. He ripped himself away from Paige, turning to block her from the other man’s sight, unwilling to let the prick see her so wanton and needy. He turned, just as the other man grabbed him and hauled him to his feet.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ Tristan demanded, his eyes darting between the man in his arms and the woman lying spread-eagled on the bench. Casey wanted to reach out and cover her up from the man’s eyes when the reality of the situation sank in.
Paige wasn’t his. She was Tristan’s. He was about to fuck another man’s girlfriend in a booth, at what was essentially Tristan’s party. Fucking hell! His life was a bloody disaster.
‘Look I—’ Casey began, but his words were cut off by an outraged Ellie, darting forward from nowhere and helping Paige to sit back up, fixing her dress and setting herself between the two men and the disorientated woman.
‘Someone had better explain what’s going on,’ Marc’s voice joined the odd situation.
People were starting to notice them, causing them to drift towards the group to try and find out what was going on.
‘He was attacking Paige!’ Tristan proclaimed loudly. A few people gasped and muttered between themselves.
‘I was not!’ Casey replied, pulling himself out of Tristan’s grasp.
‘You were all over her, it looked like you were about to mount her, Casey.’
‘Tristan!’ Paige’s voice finally spoke up. She glared up at the man from her seat, over Ellie’s shoulder. ‘He wasn’t attacking me.’
The two stared at each other in silence for a moment and Casey glanced between them, trying to figure out what was silently being said.
If he hadn’t been devastated to realise what the hell he’d been about to do, he’d have noticed the look between Paige and Tristan wasn’t the same as their regular interactions; tension passed between them, neither of them happy with the situation.
And why would Tristan be happy? He’d just caught his girlfriend about to shag another man.
Fuck. He was the other man. Again.
‘Fuck this,’ Casey said, turning and walking away, fastening his zipper as he went. He ignored the murmurs, the flashes of camera phones going off as he did.
‘Casey!’ he heard Paige call out as he walked through the parted crowd. He wasn’t doing this again. He wasn’t putting himself through this with her any more. They were done. He was finally putting her behind him and out of his life.
As soon as the mid-season break arrived, he was heading back to England to look for a place over there. Perhaps he’d see if the BBC was interested in having him when Legacy was over.
20
The cupcakes were perfect, Paige decided as she carefully rearranged her belongings to accommodate them and stepped away from the cab. She hoped they’d put a smile on the faces of the cast and crew. The show had received high praise from both critics and fans after the airing of the pilot episode the night before, and hopefully, it would result in a long run for the show and its cast. If the rest of the series lived up to expectations after such a gripping beginning, it would be well deserved.
She greeted people she recognised from the previous night’s party as she stepped into the studio hangar, and glanced around for Tristan or Casey. While both actors had put in superb performances, she’d been blown away by Casey’s introduction to the show. He’d talked about how difficult his first scenes had been to film, trapped in that tiny space, but his own fear had only heightened his performance. He’d outshone everyone else in the episode; even Tristan’s strongest fans had begrudgingly admitted Casey should have been first-billed.
Paige really wanted to congratulate Casey on a job well done. If he performed as well throughout the series, he’d have his pick of any role he wanted in the future. However, after what had happened the night before, she wasn’t so sure that he’d be willing to speak to her. She’d raged at Tristan, who had apologised profusely at the misunderstanding—he’d genuinely thought she was in trouble in the booth. However, he’d also protested that he’d done a good thing and that it was clear that Casey was only out to use her.
She forced her smile to brighten, speaking to one of the production assistants as they hurried across the set, ‘Have you seen Tristan?’
‘I saw Mr. Swift over that way,’ he told her without stopping, even when she offered the box of sweet treats towards the frazzled crewman, but the guy just waved her off. She shrugged it off as merely part of the craziness that came with a scene set-up and continued through the organised chaos to where the man had pointed.
Paige heard them before she saw them. If they were filming this for a show, they’d be in an bland office standing around a water cooler. Instead, they were stood at one end of the food services table, sandwiches in hand, egging each other on in tales of conquest and debauchery from the night before. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Paige shuddered as she watched from the safety of the support pillar to the mezzanine floor above them.
‘—mouth like a hoover and the bastard had to walk in right at the critical moment! Fucking made me jump so my dick popped out of her mouth and I came on her face. She was livid!’ One of the show regulars finished his tale and the group fell into a raucous laughter as Paige wrinkled her nose at the declaration. She’d have gone mad at him, too, if he’d splashed on her face. Although, why the woman was blowing a stranger without a condom, Paige had no idea. That was just asking for trouble. And she should know, she thought wearily as she glanced down at her stomach.
‘What about you, Tristan?’ said one of the younger crew members. ‘Saw you going home with your hot momma last night. Were you a good boy or a naughty one?’
Paige frowned at the comment as her hand slid over her stomach. Were they referring to her as the hot momma? She didn’t mind the hot part, but the momma bit… Even halfway through her pregnancy, she was still trying to come to terms with that moniker.
‘What do you think?’ Tristan replied with a wink to the young guy. ‘I was the good one, she was the naughty one.’ Some of the men laughed, and a few groaned at the lame comment. ‘I keep telling you, the hormones make them desperate. I had to pull the car over on the way home because she wanted me so bad. Was eager to prove that she was mine.’
What? Had he picked someone up after he’d dropped her off? Damn, was he trying to take Casey’s playboy title now the other actor seemed to have grown up? She hoped the poor g
irl didn’t think it was serious between them because it clearly wasn’t if Tristan was discussing her so blatantly. Paige rubbed her expanding stomach as Blueberry squirmed around inside her. If there was one thing she’d learnt from her time with Casey, it was to never get involved with an actor, unless you wanted to be discussed with everyone and their dog.
‘Damn, man,’ the younger star said again. ‘In the car? Front or back?’
‘Dude,’ Tristan said with a laugh. ‘I only have front seats. I’m lucky she’s not that big yet. Another couple of weeks and we won’t be able to go for a drive anymore.’
‘Who’s he talking about?’ that day’s guest star asked the group.
‘Paige Hamilton—the host of The After Show,’ someone told him. ‘He’s been banging her since they first met—couldn’t even wait to get out of the studio, right?’
Paige felt her mouth drop open at the comment, so shocked she almost missed Tristan’s amused reply, ‘No, that wasn’t the day we met—that was after the joint interview.’
What. The actual. Fuck?
Why the hell was he saying such things? They’d never shared anything more than a simple kiss, one merely between friends at the end of a nice night together. She’d told him the first time they’d had lunch together that she wasn’t after anything more than friendship; she had no room for romance with a baby on the way. He’d said he understood, that he was happy to just be friends…
The lying dickbag!
Well, he wasn’t getting away with that. She narrowed her eyes and marched towards the group, opening the box of cakes as she went.
‘—I had to move the seat further back halfway through, as her ass kept’—she tapped Tristan on the arm to get his attention. He glanced over his shoulder, gave her a smile and turned back to the group. Then, he chocked on the words in his throat as he realised who had tapped him.