I was angry, and I should’ve known better. The second I said yes to her little project, I’d opened the door to a line I couldn’t uncross. Having her in there with us was a bad idea, and yet, it was what I needed to keep doing my work.
I paced down the hallway, past the empty kitchen, running a hand through my hair. My skin was still hot, still buzzing with the adrenaline of stopping mid-scene. I’d neverhad to stop before. Not once. My head was always in control, even when my body wasn’t. But tonight, I couldn’t get a grip on either. I should’ve told her to stay away. I should’ve told her this wasn’t something she could handle. And instead, it was me who couldn’t.
I turned when I heard the door open and close. Lana stepped out into the hallway, her notebook clutched so tightly against her chest that her knuckles were white. Her face was pale, but her eyes were sharp and steady.
“I’m going to bed,” she said. Her tone was defensive, and she looked like she’d had enough of me and everything about me.
“Wait.”
She shook her head. “No. I’ve seen enough.”
Her voice cracked slightly at the end, and that did something to me. I wasn’t sure if it was guilt or anger, but both sat heavily in my chest.
“Lana,” I said again, stopping her from taking the first step on the stairs.
“What?” she snapped as she turned around.
I took a step forward. “We need to talk about what happened in there.”
Her expression was a mix of anger and discomfort, her jaw set tight. “What exactly happened, Callan?”
“You know what.” My voice came out rougher than I intended. This wasn’t the time for me to make her more upset. I needed to stay calm.
She raised a brow, challenging me. “No, I don’t. Tell me.”
She made it clear she wasn’t going to let me dodge this. She wasn’t afraid of me. She wasn’t like the women who smiled and nodded through everything I said. She dared to confront me. It was infuriating and addictive all at once.
“You being there threw me off,” I said finally.
“Then that’s your problem, not mine.”
“It is my problem,” I shot back. “And I’m trying to fix it.”
Her eyes narrowed. “How? By stopping everything in the middle of a shoot? By making everyone stare at me like I’m the reason your dick didn’t cooperate? You’re supposed to be a professional.”
“I am a professional,” I said tightly.
“Then act like it. I’m certainly trying, but it’s hard when I’m being used for something I have no control over. It’s weird, okay?”
Her words hit deeper than they should have. Because she was right. I’d spent years perfecting my control. I didn’t get distracted. I didn’t get flustered. But tonight, one look at her, and everything I thought I was good at fell apart.
I rubbed a hand over my face, feeling the tension build between my shoulders. “You think I don’t know that?” I said. “You think I wanted to lose control in front of everyone? You think I liked watching you sit there, pretending not to look at me while I was pretending not to care that you were?”
Her lips parted, but she didn’t say anything.
“You want honesty? Fine. I couldn’t get hard until I looked at you. That’s what happened.”
She froze, her expression hardening. “Don’t.”
“It’s the truth, and you fucking know it.”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“You have to.”
Her voice rose now. “No, I don’t. I don’t have to listen to this. I’m not part of your problems. I’m not part of your world, Callan. I’m not doing this anymore.”
“Yes, you are.”
