I take a few steps toward Elle. It’s not even conscious. I want to be close to her, and I’m not having a conversation across the room. I have no idea what she wants or needs to say to me, but I’m there for whatever it is.
I gesture towards the small table in the centre of the room. ‘Shall we sit?’
‘No. This won’t take long.’ She reaches forward and picks up her teacup from the table. It shakes slightly and alittle tea spills onto the saucer. So she’s as nervous as I am. I feel so bad for her. All of this is my fault, and I’m sure she doesn’t appreciate giving me a glimpse of her nerves. She abandons the cup and steps back, shaking tea off of her fingers.
‘Fuck.’
So she swears now. I never, ever heard her swear when we were together. She was alloh my gosh, like a British schoolgirl. It was the sweetest thing. But she saysfuckin such a posh, clipped accent that it almost sounds likefack. It’s so sexy, I can’t even?—
‘I just wanted to get a few things clear before we go in there.’
She rams her hands in the pockets of her very tight jeans and my eyes travel involuntarily down her gorgeous legs to her high-heeled boots.
‘Sure,’ I say. ‘Whatever you want. I’m not here to cause trouble for you, Elle.’
God, I love saying her name.
And I love how her eyes close for a split second when she hears me say it. Though I have a pretty strong hunch they close in agive me patienceway, and not in amy name on your lips turns me on so muchway. ‘I’m here to do a job, as I’m sure you are, too.’
‘Good. I wanted to see you before we went in there, to tell you this.’ She takes a deep breath. I suspect she’s been rehearsing this. ‘As far as I’m concerned,youdon’t exist.’ She makes a figure of eight in the air with her index finger to emphasise her point. ‘When we’re working, you’re Dominic and I’m Georgiana. If you want to run lines, or discuss how a scene should work, I will, of course, be open to that.
‘But I don’t want to know what you had for breakfast, or what stupid fucking parties you went to at the weekend, or how you’re finding your time here. No small talk. Noconversation. We are not friends.Wedon’t exist off screen. Do I make myself clear?’
Holy fuck. I was prepared for bitterness. And kudos to her for not wasting a second before communicating the boundaries she needs in place to make this work for her, but shit. It’s still a gut-punch.
I nod. ‘Crystal clear. I won’t bother you unless I absolutely have to. For work stuff.’
‘Good.’ She looks as though she was preparing for more pushback, but she won’t get that from me. ‘Okay then.’
‘You’ve changed your hair. It’s lighter.’
‘It’s for the show. They thought I’d look younger with blonder hair.’ Her eyebrows rise in a challenge. ‘More virginal. Whatever.’
Jesus Christ. I didn’t see that coming. I can barely look at her right now. There’s a good chance I’ll have an erection for this whole fucking production. I brave a glance at her. There’s an amused twist to her mouth. I see what she means about the hair—it is more, er, virginal. It’s seriously hot.
But apart from that, she looks older, and in a really fucking great way. The youthful roundness of her face has yielded to stunning bone structure; her cheekbones are more defined, her jaw more finely honed.
She is so beautiful, it’s breathtaking, and I have a sudden rush of understanding of how folks must feel when they meet me or someone else in the public eye, because I’ve been staring at magazine covers and Instagram posts of her for five years, and to be faced with her in the flesh is nothing short of spellbinding. And surreal.
‘Got it.’ I clear my throat. Moving on. ‘And you swear now, too?’
‘Josh.’
There it is.
My name on those lips.
And it fucking slays me.
‘This little now-versus-then game seems like it’s a lot of fun for you, but save it. I’m not interested in how you think I’ve changed. Okay?’
She grabs her cup again and this time there’s no spillage. She holds it to her lips and drinks. Closes her eyes briefly. And I watch.
She puts it down. ‘Come on. We’re done here.’
CHAPTER 17
Elle
