Richard's Reign (Book 6): Enthrall Novella #3 (Enthrall Sessions) (19 page)

“Yes,” said Sienna.

Andrea fell against my chest. “Come with me.”

“On set?”

She looked up at me knowingly. “We need to clarify a few things first.”

Self-conscious of Sienna, my words slipped away and I gave a reluctant nod.

I’d escaped the impending fallout inside the trailer only to be greeted with Megan and Ethan’s false smiles.

“Richard’s going to watch me film,” said Andrea, pulling me behind her.

My mouth opened but no words came out.

Despite the annoyance of being hounded away, I knew they were right. My personal life was all over the map and ill-suited for someone hoping to keep the public’s affection. This baggage I’d never be able to shed would always haunt me like a recurring nightmare.

This was where true love was tested. Not on the whitewashed sands of walking lovers but in the trenches of life where one chooses to do the right thing.

I gave Andrea’s hand a tug. “I’m afraid I can’t stay, Andrea. I have to get back to work.”

She turned and smirked up at me. “We’ll chat between takes. I’m filming an emotional scene. It will help me to have you here.”

“I really must go.”

“Don’t rattle my process.” She winked.

She bounded along in that playful feminine way of hers, dark locks flowing, and all those fun times we’d spent together came flooding back, our memories few but each and every one cherished. She’d lifted me out of a slump and I owed her this at least.

Megan and Ethan stalked close on our heels and we entered the stage and went on through yet another heavy door.

Andrea pointed upward to the red light in an oval box. “When that’s lit up and spinning you have to be quiet. Put your phone on silent.”

Trailing behind her I worked on my phone, my fingers sliding across the screen to shut it off. Andrea walked confidently ahead of me. She received a wave here and there from the crew and she waved back. She seemed to know everyone’s name and their faces lit up as she greeted them.

Behind the veil of filmmaking all glamour slipped away as the truth was soon discovered in all its dusty backstage reality. During the grueling long days their technical brilliance became more of an endurance test as the impressive stamina of the crew played out. You could see it on their faces.

We walked through the vast, dark stage, cold from hours of air conditioning and stepped over wires and cables and props strewn on the floor, posing as hazards. Tall wooden stands that when rounded proved they were hiding realistic window frames, walls and doors that appeared so real, and just beyond us sat the main set in the center.

A city apartment with all the touches of luxury, like that elegant artwork hung on the walls, the sleek lines of modern furniture from talented decorator’s, the vast, long glass window overlooking the dramatic skyline of Manhattan.

Staring in awe I shook my head at the spectacular view. The same one I’d enjoyed all those years when I’d had a penthouse in the Upper East Side.

Andrea introduced me to the set designer, Brandon Zenon, and told me they’d worked together on another film, back when they were both starting out. They both shared Florida roots, she went on to say.

“We project the real background via laser,” he explained. “It gives the vista an authentic perspective.”

“Impressive.” I watched him navigate the software on a laptop.

The way he centered the fifty foot image on the back screen, the profoundness of detail in that digital projection that made up the view.

“It really does appear real.” I admired the panoramic landscape.

“We have a generous budget,” he said, and turned back to chat with one of the cameramen who was strapping a Glidecam Smooth Shooter to himself for a stabilized shot.

Andrea guided me over to a dark corner where a line of TV screens rested before five chairs, and she told me this was called the video village. Andrea’s name was on the back of one of the chairs - as were several of the other cast members. Mubarak’s empty chair sat on the end.

Andrea squeezed my arm. “You can watch from here.”

I gave a nod and turned to see Ethan and Megan standing a few feet behind us.

Andrea lowered her voice to a whisper. “Pivotal scene, my character Rose tells Jax she’s ready to become his submissive.”

My face flushed as my imagination placed me firmly in Jax’s shoes and then a rush of happiness flooded my veins as I thought of Andrea.

What the fuck was that?

It didn’t exactly help that she’d had my cock in her gorgeous mouth just ten minutes ago.

Andrea knocked my arm. “Look, Jax even looks like you.”

Blaze Fumero strolled on in with the confidence of a leading man, the actor was evidently taking a break from his Emmy winning TV show to star alongside Andrea on this feature. He took center stage on the set and sat on the couch. He was swarmed by makeup artists and other members of the crew who tended to him.

Self-consciously, I patted my hair down though it was Blaze’s hair that was sticking up. He did kind of look like me in a scruffy East Coast way. I liked to think of myself as a little better put together, then reminded myself he was in costume and those ripped jeans and worn T-shirt were probably not a true representation of the heartthrob who had everyone flustered.

“They probably think you’re his stunt double,” said Ethan, his kindness returning.

Megan’s protective stance hadn’t changed and she looked like she was wound too tight, and needed to take herself a lot less seriously.

One night with one of my Doms
and that bee-sucking expression would be wiped from her highly strung mouth.

“Wait here, okay?” said Andrea.

She left my side and headed toward the set. A few members of the crew swarmed her now. She greeted them with a professional air, a smile here, a nod there, her expression pure focus.

The crew scattered.

I looked around to see what had rattled them.

He strolled into focus. A large framed man, his expression sour, his small round glasses sinister, beige combat pants and jacket, his movement slow and deliberate. Jack Mubarak was even more intimidating in real life, his scowl revealing the kind of physical pain he wanted no one to know about and from his guarded walk I assumed it was his lower back.

He glowered at Andrea. “Nice of you to join us, Ms. Buckingham.”

She shrank, her calm demeanor dissipating and though she hid it well to the others I’d gotten to know that flush on her neck, that uneasy way she lowered her gaze to peek beneath long dark lashes, the way she shifted her footing.

Our eyes caught and I gave her a comforting smile.

“Pictures up,” someone shouted from our left.

The set went quiet.

“Camera’s rolling,” came the call.

A loud buzz echoed in warning.

The scene unfolded dramatically with Blaze and Andrea going at it in a full on argument, and me reminding myself they were acting. Several takes later and the grueling pace of maintaining tension seemed to wear on them both. I admired their focus.

Blaze forgot his lines again.

And again.

Collectively we all cringed on his behalf as Mubarak stormed toward him and went on a tirade. All those rumors of the kind of bad ass this director was seemed to be true, judging by the stark evidence before us. His vitriolic attack on Blaze was so severe a few of the crew walked off.

Andrea approached them to defend Blaze.

Mubarak turned on her.

It was ugly, a dark monologue on how the budget prevented him hiring real talent and their inability to fully invest themselves. From what little acting I’d seen, none of it rang true.

I stepped forward ready to defend her and was gently restrained by Megan.

Ethan grabbed my other arm. “You’ll make it worse.”

“You’re going to just stand by and let him talk to her like this?” I said.

“He talks to everyone like this,” explained Megan.

“I’m not just going to stand here—”

“Do you really want to fuck everything up for her?” she snapped.

I glanced around at the staff and they broke my gaze, possibly worn down from days of enduring Mubarak’s tantrums, or just trying to get through this without getting fired.

“I need some air.” I walked away and headed into a dark corner, glancing back to make sure Megan hadn’t followed.

I turned my phone back on and speed-dialed Isaac Loftin.

His gruff voice answered. “Yes?”

“It’s Richard,” I said softly. “Did I wake you?”

“It’s fine,” he replied sleepily.

“Are you on the boat?”

“No, UCLA.”

“Taking a nap in your office?”

“Was trying too. I’m lecturing in ten minutes to a bunch of undergrads who habitually text during my lectures. Trying to shed my grumpiness before I tackle the bastards. What’s up?”

“You were going to email me the footage?”

“Could have sworn I did.” I heard the sound of his laptop firing up. “I’ve labeled it top secret Booth project.”

“I appreciate that.”

“You might not want Andrea to see it. It’s pretty shocking.”

“In what way?”

He chuckled. “You kids were out of control.”

“Chance of a lifetime.”

“Maybe I’ll show it to my students.”

“Sure, whatever you want.”

“Boy, do you have stamina.”

“I like to think so.”

“Just so you know we didn’t leak the news you were both aboard the
Score Settled.
Maybe someone saw you together at the harbor? Still, Entertainment Tonight doesn’t seem to know who her mystery guy is yet.”

“Yet.”

“Okay, well the file should reach you soon.”

“Stay safe.”

“Always, come visit us again soon. Don’t leave it so long this time.”

“I promise. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do, Richard.”

He hung up.

The file began its download.

CHAPTER 23

“GET THE FUCK off my set,” snapped Mubarak.

Blaze stared him down.

The escalation of tension had reached new heights. Ethan was pacing and Megan was snapping at him.

“Where did you go?” Megan glared my way.

Ethan gave me a wary glance and he looked so conflicted, probably considering saying something, but, like everyone else, he feared making things worse.

“Maybe this is Mubarak’s method?” I gave a casual shrug. “You know, his way to get the actors to dig deep.”

“Shut the fuck up,” hissed Megan.

From what I could tell Andrea was holding her own.

“I don’t even know why you’re here,” seethed Megan.

I gave a polite smile, using this opportunity to prove she had no power over me. My focus returned to Andrea.

She stood before Mubarak, her arms folded across her chest, her stance confident.

“Please don’t speak to me like this,” she told him.

“It’s my set, Ms. Buckingham,” he replied sternly.

She gestured to the crew. “Our set too, sir. We’re just as passionate at turning out a fine film.”

“And yet your co-star can’t remember his lines?”

“Well, if you didn’t sit there in your director’s chair sending daggers our way,” she said, “it would be easier to focus.”

“How dare you?”

“I’m merely explaining—”

“Do you like being on this film?”

“Of course. I’ve dedicated my life to living and breathing this part. I’ve immersed myself in this role.”

“You’re going to have to do better than that, Ms. Buckingham.”

She pressed her hand to her chest. “I am Rose.”

“Rose is brave, she’s an inspiration—”

“I’m brave.”

“This town is full of actresses ready for an opportunity like this.”

“You can’t fire me. We’ve started filming.”

“I sent you away to find that fierceness, that life force. I needed you to prove you’re capable of risking everything.”

“I faced off with an eighteen foot shark for this!”

“Knowing you, Ms. Buckingham, it was probably a dolphin.”

Silence.

The entire crew’s attention focused on the enormous back screen digital projection. The New York vista had been replaced by the vastness of an underwater seascape.

Rippling reflected shards of light flooded the stage, that laser image now a murky blueness; an endless ocean - the muffled sound of bubbles and swirling sea water.

The stunning visual of two divers floating in a glass cage.

Hushed whispers from the startled crew, murmurs of confusion.

The shark’s vastness rising from the deep and tracing through the water as the enormous fish approached the glass cage, her tale fast propelling all eighteen feet of her. A flick of her tale, that movement decisive, her gaping jaw wide, those serrated teeth exploring the glass.

Floating in the hazy space was Andrea, seemingly calm from the camera’s vantage point, her arms wrapped around me in a hug and then breaking away in a moment of bravery, turning to watch Joy swim by again.

To some, we were brilliant explorers of the deep. To others, we were clearly out of our fucking minds.

“What is that?” whispered Megan.

“A Sunday afternoon,” I murmured.

I strolled across the stage toward Jack Mubarak.

Shoulder to shoulder with him, I looked up at the screen. “It was damn cold at that depth. Joy Feast made you forget about that.”

“Joy Feast?” said Andrea. “You told me her name was Joy?”

I grinned mischievously.

Mubarak stared up at the scene. “Andrea?” His intense hazel gaze locked on that impressive shark.

The visual detailed effect was so stunning this entire vast stage could have been underwater.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” I smiled at Andrea. “Joy’s thirty years old.”

“The Ordovician period,” muttered Mubarak.

I gave a nod. “Sharks have ruled the ocean for over 450 million years. You can see why.”

“When?” he whispered.

“A week ago.” I tucked my hands into my pockets. “Joy’s jaw could have crushed that cage if she’d wanted too.”

Andrea shot me a look and I shrugged.

“Andrea is your Rose, Mr. Mubarak.” I pointed up. “She’s brave. Daring. Honorable.”

He stepped toward Andrea and cupped her face with his hands, staring right into her eyes. “Bring me that woman. Up there. Show me her.”