Steal Page 4

  “Not with me.”

  “Wasn’t offering.”

  I snorted. “And you think I was?” I shoved past her. “I’m not really into sharing. Besides… the drug and STD screenings still haven’t come through.”

  She raised her hand in the air as if she was going to slap me.

  I lifted my chin. “Do it. Wouldn’t be the first time a client wanted to hit me.”

  Her nostrils flared. Eyes filled with tears.

  And immediately I felt like shit.

  Especially since she’d volunteered all of the above in order to get the job. It was one of Jaymeson’s rules.

  She had to be clean.

  And since she was kissing so many dudes, he wanted her to be clean in every possible way.

  Plus, it was a reminder not to screw up.

  And in Jaymeson’s words, a way to own her humbleness.

  “Sorry.” It hurt like hell to form the word let alone release it into the space between us. “That was too far.”

  She shook her head and took a step backward then sat down on the leather couch, it made a squishing sound.

  Darkness enveloped the house.

  What the hell had I been thinking? I should have hired a babysitter for her, not actually taken the job. I wasn’t going to make it out alive; I was already struggling breathing the same air, knowing her lips had tasted the same spaces that were hitting my body.

  Damn, I was losing my mind.

  “Hungry?” I nearly sprinted into the kitchen. “I had everything stocked for us. We’ll have someone come in once a week and re-stock, just make sure you write the housekeeper a note so she knows.”

  “Not hungry,” Angelica finally said after a few seconds of silence. “I think I’ll just go to bed.” She stood. “Which room is mine?”

  “The one next to mine.” I tried not to sound gruff, but it came out all wrong, like I was still pissed when I was just having a really hard time keeping my memories of her naked body on lockdown. What kind of horrible person had she turned me into?

  I led the way down the hall, past the master, and flicked on the light in the largest of the guest rooms.

  Angelica walked in past me. “Well at least I have all of my clothes.”

  “Everything you brought is here.” I shrugged. “Your call time is five-thirty a.m. Get some sleep.”

  I turned to leave, well aware of her footsteps behind me. I didn’t make it very far into the living room before I heard her yell.

  “Where the HELL is my door?”

  I smirked and waited.

  She stomped down the hall. I turned.

  Face redder than I’d ever see it, she thrust a finger in my direction. “Will this isn’t funny.”

  “Do I look like I’m laughing?”

  “Will!” She screeched. “I need a damn door!”

  “So you can do drugs? Sneak out? Sneak people in?” I shook my head, “Hell no, you get no door. Besides, it’s not like I haven’t seen it all before — right?”

  “You’re a sick bastard.”

  “All right.” I stalked toward her. “But I’m the sick bastard who’s helping save your career. You get a door when you pass six weeks’ worth of drug tests and when I say door I mean one of those little bead things tween girls get that make noise every time you walk through.”

  She exhaled, eyes filling with tears while her body shook with rage. “I’m clean. You know I’m clean.”

  “So stay clean, and you get a door. The math isn’t hard, Ang. No drugs equals privacy. And any sort of drugs or rule breaking means your ass is on the first plane back to LA.”

  “You treat all your clients like they’re your children?”

  “Only ones who clearly need parenting.”

  “Pretty sick words for someone who’s seen it all, huh Will?” She jerked her tank top over her head and tossed it on the floor between us, she may as well be throwing down a gauntlet.

  I kept my jaw locked.

  My stare indifferent.

  “All right.” She hooked her fingers into her shorts and shoved them down her long tan legs, stepped out of them and waited. Baiting me.

  I wasn’t going to bite.

  I knew her game.

  And players weren’t given unlimited lives.

  With a scowl, she clenched her fists and then dropped her bra.

  Topless.

  I flinched.

  I didn’t mean to.

  So when she tugged her black boy-shorts next, I forced my eyes not to blink. They burned as my entire body demanded I lick and swallow her whole.

  Then go back for seconds.

  My smile was cruel when I wanted it to be loving.

  I hated myself in that moment. For allowing her to make me that man, the one who would break her.

  When I knew all she ever wanted was love. Acceptance.

  But we were too far gone.

  With a sigh, I slowly approached her, then knelt, bracing her hips with my hands like I was going to press a kiss to her belly button, I ran my hands down her hips. Her body gave a jerk as her head fell back, her fingers dug into my hair.

  I winced at the contact.

  It would be too easy.

  But there was a giant past between us.

  A river of sins separated us.

  I slid my hands down her perfect legs, then grabbed her discarded clothes and stood. “I think you dropped these.” I brushed a rough kiss to her cheek, and brought my lips to her ear. “Go to bed, Ang.”

  Breathing ragged, she grabbed the wad of clothes from my hands and stumbled backward, tears filling her eyes.

  No door slammed but I imagined that if she had one, it would have splintered into a thousand tiny pieces as I turned on my heel and walked into my own room, body stiff as a board.

  Brain reeling from the encounter.

  And in need of a cold shower.

  Or twenty.

  I might loathe the woman.

  Hate beyond words.

  But one thing rang true — she was absolutely heart-stompingly — beautiful.

  And at one time — she’d been mine.

  Those hips.

  Those breasts.

  Those legs wrapped around me.

  Mine. Mine. Mine.

  Until she was someone else’s completely.

  And I had nothing.

  I pounded the wall with a fist and slowly made my way to the bathroom, jerking the knob full blast on cold.

  I BLINKED UP at the white ceiling, willing the tears to dry. Praying they wouldn’t slip free — because once they were loose there was no stopping the onslaught of emotion that would follow, the devastation, the earth-shattering realization that nothing would ever be the same between us. Not if he could help it — and not with me constantly pushing him.

  But at least pushing him got me a reaction that proved he wasn’t a complete indifferent sociopath.

  I refused to let him get to me.

  With a sigh I turned onto my side and stared out the window imagining a different time a different place, where he was by my side — and promised to never leave.

  That and the way his hands ran down my skin like he was getting ready to worship me the way he used to.

  Only his face hadn’t been filled with wonder — disgust was more like it.

  I clung to the anger like a blanket. It was the only way to sleep, the only way I was able to close my eyes and pray the sickness in my chest away.

  Anger forced me to focus on doing my job and getting as far away from my past as possible.

  Weakness would just make me sad.

  It would make me that — weak;

  And I knew where that road led.

  It led me directly back to all the things that turned me down that road in the first place.

  Not being good enough.

  Pretty enough.

  Funny enough.

  Weakness led me to a false sense of strength.

  And my number one weakness had always been Will Sutherland. />
  It was possible — to give so much of your heart and soul to a person that you lost who you were.

  I became a different person with him — a person I thought I needed to be in order to compete in our world. A person our world told me I had no choice but to become in order to stay relevant.

  I punched my pillow one last time and attempted to sleep.

  Two hours later, when sleep still wouldn’t come, I padded my way into the kitchen and made coffee, then laid my head against the couch and thought about the way his lips felt on my ear.

  Inches from my neck.

  Breaths from my body.

  I ached for him in ways I never knew existed.

  And I relished in the ache just like I relished in the anger, because at least that meant it had happened, and at least that meant I knew he was a bad choice I wasn’t willing to make again.

  A weakness that wouldn’t just hurt me.

  But kill me.

  Sometime around one in the morning when the clock on the microwave blinked at me with an intensity that started a pulsing headache to form — I stumbled over to the couch and face planted — the last thought in my head was of the Sutherland Sunset — and how it had once been my anchor until it turned into my hell.

  What a joke.

  What a cruel joke.

  “You made coffee.” Will’s smooth voice interrupted what had been a completely dreamless sleep.

  I didn’t have the energy to respond with anything other than a grunt.

  “Still not a morning person,” he commented. His footsteps might as well be sledgehammers drilling into the wood floor.

  “Why?” I croaked.

  The walking stopped. Lights flicked on. I shivered and cursed him to Hell as he poked his head over the couch and had the audacity to smile. “Why what?”

  My eyes narrowed. “Talking.”

  “Why talking?” He took a sip out of the blue mug I’d been drinking out of earlier that morning; he must have reheated the coffee. “Still really eloquent in the morning I see.” Another annoying sip. The terrorist didn’t even offer me any! Just kept loudly sipping while staring at me with a stupid ass grin on his face like it was a joy to be awake at… wait, what time was it?

  I jolted to a sitting position, my pounding headache still wasn’t gone, in fact it was worse, probably brought on by Will’s cheerful demeanor and loud walking. “What time is it?”

  “You have twenty minutes until you’re expected on set.” His voice was calm behind me, warm. If I closed my eyes I could almost imagine his body was about to wrap around me like a blanket, I’d tuck my feet under my body and rest my head on his shoulder, we’d share a cup of coffee like we used to and watch the news before work.

  It took us one date to become inseparable.

  Our trailers side by side.

  Cohabitating.

  Finishing sentences.

  Eating off each other’s plates.

  Sharing inside jokes.

  Not to mention, Will had been my first.

  I shivered as his footsteps moved away from me taking his body right along with them.

  That was the past.

  It needed to stay there.

  With a sigh, I shot up to my feet and started making my way back to my room.

  I only made it about one foot before Will started cursing.

  Panicked, I froze and then turned around. “What’s wrong?”

  His eyes narrowed over the rim of the blue cup, “I’m just trying to decide if you’re doing it on purpose.”

  “Doing what?” Okay now I was getting annoyed. And the man wouldn’t stop slurping his coffee as though he didn’t know how to sip like a grown up!

  He shrugged one of his shoulders. “Wearing no clothes.”

  I pressed my hands to my bare stomach and looked down. I was wearing a white tank top, my hands lowered with my gaze.

  And black lacy underwear.

  I’d been too irritated last night to put on sweats.

  “Won’t happen again,” I mumbled.

  “Don’t let me cramp you style. Hell, you could walk around naked, and I promise it won’t have any effect on me whatsoever.” His voice was cold, detached. “Do whatever makes you comfortable, Angelica. After all, the more comfortable you are, the better your behavior will be.”

  “Why.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Why do you treat me like I’m a child?”

  “Probably because the day I signed on to be your agent was also the day I signed on to be your babysitter. Prove you aren’t a child, and I’ll stop treating you like one.”

  My hands burned as I clenched my fists.

  The desire to flip him off was so strong I had to dig my nails into my palm.

  “I’ll be ready in five.”

  He whistled. “Minutes?”

  “Start the car,” I called behind me as I raced into my room. He wanted an adult? Two could play that game.

  I’d been an adult longer than he had, after all.

  I was working when he was still learning how to ride a freaking bike.

  I was cleaning up my mom’s puke before he even knew what drug awareness was.

  I was earning six figures before middle school.

  A child?

  Oh, there was definitely a child in that house.

  But it wasn’t me.

  I COULDN’T HELP it. I tried I even did that old trick where you look in the mirror and talk to yourself as if you’re two separate people. Just. Play nice. I could be nice. I spoon fed celebrities on a daily basis. It was my job to kiss ass.

  I just didn’t want to kiss hers.

  Because for some reason, being nice somehow felt like she’d won like she was getting in and the last thing I needed was to give her a foothold in any area of my life.

  So anger was all I had.

  Rudeness was what I clung to.

  And I hated myself for it because that wasn’t me, I’d never been that guy, hell maybe she’d turned me into that guy. The one that literally didn’t give a shit if she lived or died.

  No that wasn’t true.

  I’d always cared.

  Too much.

  That was the problem.

  True to her word, Angelica had gotten ready in five minutes. She slid on her giant black sunglasses and looked ready to take on the world better than most girls who needed at least an hour to look presentable.

  Her good looks had always been a part of the attraction, her bow shaped lips and cat eyes gave her an exotic look all the while making her look like she always knew some sort of secret that you weren’t privy to yet.

  She walked around like she knew something you didn’t and when she talked to you, you felt genuinely better about yourself for the simple fact that she was speaking.

  To you.

  I gave my head a shake and watched while she ran her lines with Lincoln.

  “Quiet on the set!” One of the PAs yelled.

  I grabbed a seat and one of the headsets so I could listen to the lines.

  Lincoln was standing in front of the ocean, hands shoved in his pockets while she approached.

  “It won’t ever work you know.”

  “What won’t?” She asked in that small voice of hers.

  “Breaking them up.” He shrugged. “They love each other too much, and you’ll lose everything you can’t afford to lose.”

  Her face froze and then she parted her lips and nothing came out.

  A PA fed her lines.

  She still said nothing.

  “Cut!” Jaymeson yelled.

  I let out a sigh and tossed the headset back onto the chair. What the hell was her problem now? She forgot how to memorize her lines?

  “Angelica, love.” Jaymeson crooked his finger. “A minute?”

  She ducked her head and walked over to him.

  He cupped her face with his hands and spoke softly. Tears filled her eyes and then she was running off set like he’d just told her she was fired.

  “Take ten.” He s
aid in an irritated voice as he approached me and gave his head a small shake. “She’s not in the zone, man.”

  “She’ll get there.” Hell, I hoped she got there.

  Jay ran a hand over the back of his buzzed hair, messing up the longer pieces in front as they fell across his forehead and smacked against the snake tattoo on his neck. “She better.”

  His eyes locked on mine.

  “No.” I shook my head. “Whatever shit you’re about to say, no, I won’t do it.”

  He lifted his hands innocently. “Maybe if you just… if you could just talk to her.”

  “I’m an agent, not an acting coach.”

  “You’d be the shittiest acting coach alive.” He chuckled and kicked some of the sand with his leather sandals. “You know she shows up unhappy, she leaves unhappy, Zane made her laugh. Why can’t you make her laugh?”

  “Maybe because I don’t owe her any reason to.”

  “Hell, man.” He blew out a breath between his lips. “Could you try? Because I need her on her game. I’m doing this as a favor. I had hundreds of girls audition for this role, but you begged me to give it to her.”

  Yeah, I’d done that. In a moment of weakness, I’d done that. Because I knew it was her only chance and because I wasn’t a complete monster.

  Until I’d seen her again and decided against any sort of future reconciliation.

  “We’re already off schedule,” Jay added, twisting the knife further. “She needs to be better or she’s fired.”

  And there it was.

  “We’re two days in.” The guy made a point. “She’s easily replaced.”

  “What the hell do you want me to do? Smile? Cheer her up? Tell her how awesome she is?”

  Jay cracked a smile. “Right, sure, but maybe not in such a high-pitched screechy valley girl voice. You knew her once man, knew her weaknesses, strengths, play to the ones that are going to make sure she brings it for the camera or she’s done.”

  I felt myself pale.

  He frowned and took a step closer. “What the hell are you so afraid of?”

  I jerked my head up and whispered hoarsely. “Her.”

  “Cheer up.” He slapped me on the shoulder. “You’ve got at least seventy pounds on her. Doubt she’s eaten bread in five years, and I know you run a fast mile.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”