Shaking my head, I put the thoughts of him aside. For the next couple of hours, we plan out the finer details and schedule with other departments to draft the content calendar.
* * *
A couple of days later, I’m waiting for Ezra to arrive in the video shoot room for our firstmeeting to record content for social media teasers.
I glance at my wrist watch again and groan because, of course, he’s late. How else will he fulfill his quota of getting on my nerves? I swear he gets a kick out of it.
Pacing the length of the room, my excitement for this project today all but fizzles out by the time he swaggers into the room, as if he owns it.
“Thank you for gracing me with your presence, your majesty,” I deadpan, sarcasm dripping with every word. He has the gall to dismiss me with one look as he pulls up a chair and plants his ass on it. “You’re thirty-five minutes late,” I say through gritted teeth.
He shrugs.
He fuckingshrugs. “Technically, thirty-four and a half. You gonna dock my pay?”
The audacity this man has is astounding. If women were half as cocky, uncaring, and confident as he is, they’d be ruling the world. “I might. The social media manager’s wrath is a serious thing.”
“I figured I’d give you some alone time with your camera. You two looked pretty cozy.” Hesays dryly.
This broody asshole.
“Yeah, because it listens when I say‘be ready in five minutes.’”
Ezra leans back, his hands crossed at the back of his head. “You’ve got a mouth on you, you know that?” He says with a Cheshire cat grin on his face.
Not wanting to let this drag on longer than it already has, I roll my eyes and take a seat across from him, and start explaining what I have in mind, and he asks about his doubts whenever something is unclear to him.
When I’m sure he has understood, I stand up and go behind the camera. “Now, sit before I replace you with a cardboard cutout — it’ll probably cooperate more.”
“Like this?” With swift movements, he grabs the remote and makes himself comfortable as he drops on the couch the staff placed for him in front of the LED screen, spreading his legs casually, his shorts riding up.
My legs flick down before I can stop myself, and I clear my throat. “Maybe…withlesslegs.”
His head instantly turns to me, a smirk adorning his rugged face. “You were looking.”
My face flames up at being caught. “I waschecking the frame,” I explain, pretending to check on the camera.
“Right. Theframe,” he drawls.
I adjust my tripod, muttering under my breath. “You’re impossible.”
Unfortunately for me, he hears it as he leans forward, his elbows on his knees. “You like that, though, don’t you? Keeps things interesting.” His teasing voice reaches my ears.
“No, it keeps thingsdelayed. I’d like to get this done before next season starts.” I glare at him, hoping he’ll stop making things difficult for me.
“Then stop staring at my legs and hit record,” he chirps with a grin.
I snap, “I’mnotstaring at your — You know what? Forget it. Smile. Try to look human for thirty seconds.” I sigh.
“You’re lucky I like your attitude.” He softly laughs.
“I’m not sure that’s a compliment.” My brow arches.
The timbre of his voice drops low when he says, “It is. Trust me.”
Our eyes lock — the air between us thick with something unspoken, something I don’t want to revel in because I know it’ll get me in all sorts oftrouble. I click record, forcing myself to focus.
He takes the hint and turns to the screen, but I notice the way his back coils with tension the moment I ask him to be in front of the camera.
