Callan’s voice cut through the room, calm and firm, and it instantly made her shut up.
She straightened, her confidence faltering for a second. “I was just—”
“Leave,” he said, not raising his voice. “There are no more scenes I need you in. I’ll finish up with Madison.”
Kira blinked. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. You can go home.”
“But why? Because I’m telling the truth?”
He glared at her but still kept his voice calm. “Because you’re being disrespectful toward her, and I don’t allow that in my house. Or anywhere.”
She wanted to argue, but decided against it when she saw just how serious he was. Scowling and shooting me another glare, she stormed out of the kitchen with her heels clicking all the way down the hall.
I rolled my eyes at the whole interaction, glad I could keep my mouth shut and not start an unnecessary fight. I was ready to head upstairs, but Callan stopped me.
“Did she say anything else to you?”
I shrugged. “Nothing worth repeating.”
He let out a slow breath and ran a hand over his jaw. “She won’t talk to you like that again.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “I can handle her.”
“I know you can. But you don’t have to.”
I didn’t respond to that. I wanted this moment to be over with, but he wasn’t letting up. He stepped closer, his expression softer now. “I read your essay.”
My fingers tightened around my glass. “You did?”
“Yeah, read it this morning. I wanted to tell you in person.” He paused for a second, wanting to choose the right words. “It was good. Really good.”
I stared at him, unsure what to say. Deep down, I knew he’d like the essay. I had only applauded him for the way he worked, and for being so professional on set as director andactor. On the other hand, I was worried he took everything I wrote the wrong way, not believing what I put down.
He proved that the former was the case with what he said next.
“You wrote about the set in a way no one ever has. Most people either judge it or glamorize it. You didn’t do either. You talked about how I work. How I run things. How I treat the people I shoot with. You saw everything exactly how it is, and you wrote about it like it mattered.”
Heat crept up my neck. “Well…it did matter. It was the assignment.”
“It was more than that.” His voice dropped. “You talked about me with respect and honesty. Even after everything. You didn’t have to do that.”
I lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. “You run your set well. It deserved honest words.”
He held my gaze. “Thank you. For being fair about it. And for writing something that actually captured what my work looks like. Even if it’s the adult industry.”
There was no teasing edge to his voice. No smugness. Just sincerity.
“You’re welcome.”
“I mean it,” he added. “It meant a lot to me.”
“Good,” I said quietly. I didn’t know what to add. His sincerity pressed against my chest and made it hard to breathe. I hated that he could still do that.
He watched me, and we didn’t break eye contact. He waited, like he knew I had one more thing to say. And he was right.
I sucked in a breath and put the glass back down on the counter. “Since we’re talking about honesty, I need to say one more thing.”
