Dylans Walker

Before we could get that scene to be as perfect as it looked, I'd screwed it up a couple of times when I forgot my lines. Three times, I'd forgotten what I should have said to Brielle, no—Ashley. There was no room for another mistake like that. I couldn't keep mixing both women like I wasn't more professional than that.

Ashley's emotions had to be my main focus, she was the lead character, she was my love interest in the book. Brielle, on the flip side, was my co-actor, how could I be forgetting these simple things?

As the crew parked up from here, Ben gave me the day off, then he ushered Brielle to the van. They needed to go to the studio to continue filming. She had a few scenes with Fred, whose real name wasn't important to me. As a matter of fact, Brielle was the only person I was bonding with—even just the slightest, and that already had its side effects.

As for Natasha, she was good, but I didn't look forward to scenes with her as much as I looked forward to seeing Brielle's big, brown, sinless eyes, or her narrow waist and curvy hips inside my shirt. Thank goodness I'd offered my real shirt, because right now, it was on my bed, staring at me.

I should not have, but I picked it up, balled it in my palms and took my nose there. That smell...gracious goodness.

I sniffed some more of the sweet scent of freshly squashed fruits that had a weak scent of her shampoo mixed with it.

"Gosh, Brielle," I muttered, staring around the room that was still suggestive of her glorious presence. I was alone but I felt ashamed of myself to be doing any of all these unprofessional things.

Prudence had started off with true love—me eloping with the love of my goddam life, yet it didn't get me this way. The dark romance in Wild Reverence was yet to come, what would I do then, when I'd see the lush curves of Brielle's naked body bolted to my bed, the cascading ringlets of her hair adorning her beautiful face. Or worse, her trembling voice moaning to my thrusts in an evocative way — whether fake or not?

There'd be no difference, because a person like Brielle would be excellent at hitting those notes that could get a man jerking off in his bathroom shortly after.

My house now was silent, I was bored. Netflix had tons of new release today, I should have been thinking of binging because I wasn't on call until tomorrow evening, but I couldn't sit here.

And of course I should have stayed back after everyone had left, but I urged to know how Brielle's scenes without me were going. Because of that fact, and many others I couldn't let myself think of, I picked my jacket and wallet, then I went to the garage. I felt like a fox who was trailing the scent of my prey. I drove down to the studio, and then the shame from my desires kept me outside for a little while.

These people looked up to my professionalism, if only they knew what I was thinking of right now as I strode inside, they'd probably shake their heads and insist on getting someone better.

"What's up?" Ben immediately asked with a look of worry.

I brushed his question off. "Didn't have much to do."

"But you know you don't have scenes today, Mike and I can't just slot you somewhere."

"I don't mind. I'll watch."

Ben smiled and walked back to stand near the stage. Brielle was already on that stage, moving around, waiting for Fred to come and meet her packing her things.

In the script, it said he was going to come to the apartment where they lived and then they'd talk more about the breakup. Ashley was then going to make advances at him and would be rejected. Crap.

My apologies to Jocelyn Bright but Brielle wouldn't do that—beg a man to fuck her. That was silly. But I watched it play out in front of me, a disgusted look plastered on my face.

I didn't know how bad that look was until Ben told them to cut, tugged my shoulder and said, "What do you think?"

"Me? It's good," I lied with a smile.

Although it wasn't bad, it just didn't sound like what the Brielle I was getting to know would go. That part wasn't matching her own personality as a morally upright woman. Well, playing Ashley at all wasn't a morally upright task.

Her eyes sharpened on mine and I looked away, busying myself with Fred immediately. He went off stage and grabbed a bottle of water, guzzling the content and probably readying himself to climb back there and keep up with the mischief.

"Why did you tell them to cut?" I asked Ben, though he wasn't in my line of sight. Brielle was.

"She's nervous, I thought you noticed."

I should have noticed, but Fred's rejection was crazy, it had gotten most of my attention. "You yourself taught me what to do in times like this."

Facing me directly, Ben chuckled lightly. "And what would that be?"

"To have her talk with those of us that matter—sharing her dos and don'ts with us. To express herself until she's annoying about it—then we will know how much of a secretive person or talkative she is. To read the script over and over again until she owns her character." I nodded with pride. "Should I go on?"

"I'll look beyond the fact that it's interesting and prideful to hear you quote me, and I'll say no," he said. "I already feel that doing that."

"What will Mike say, even Giddy?"

"Do they want the whole movie looking like daytime soaps?" He shook his square head. "Of course they want what can sell and what the public will not hold us accountable for, so if it's going to take more time to fix that up, Mike needs to give Giddy and I that."

I crossed my arm over my chest, my eyes still following Brielle around as Giddy guided her, kind of like re-acting her scene again so she could see where she had ruined it.

She was supposed to drop on her knees and start ripping out her buttons quickly and fiercely, while Fred sat on the chair with a peevish look, but she had delayed the buttons—probably thinking if it was a good idea, even though the plot specifically said she didn't think it twice—and Ben had saved me the trauma of watching her in a bra—again.

Ben always came to the rescue with his 'cut', and tossed me right into danger whenever he said, 'Ready when you are.' I was starting to dread it these days.

"Actually, I think it's too much of a big deal for her," I said on behalf of Brielle.

"Her manager didn't say anything. And neither did she." He started moving forward and stopped. "You know what? We will focus on Fred's scenes with his new love and also Natasha's scenes at the company. I'll send Brielle down here."

I charged up. "For what to happen?"

"Didn't you say something about sharing her dos and don'ts?"

"I was talking about a collective discussion!" I fired, my nose flaring. 

"Look around, we can't stop filming for that. It's not productive, or don't you think?" What I thought didn't matter. "So while she's off set for a few hours and you're here, you can start. When she's comfortable with you, we'll try Fred and the others."

This was the worst idea, but I was being paid for it so what could I do? I didn't exactly agree before Ben sent her down to me. I was walking away and she was following me quietly.

When I got outside, she stopped and I couldn't find the courage to tell her what Ben had asked of me—to put her through. Shit. How did that now sound like putting her in my apartment and watching her sleep?