. . .
Sophia
I jolt awake.Shadows flicker across an unfamiliar ceiling, and panic grips my chest for a split second before memories of last night race in. The flood. Grant's offer. The guest house.
Grant's guest house.
I groan and pull the duvet over my head, but even the expensive Egyptian cotton can't smother the butterflies that take off in my stomach at the thought of him. Of his gentle insistence that I stay. Of the way his hand tucked my hair behind my ear when he was showing me around the kitchen.
"Get it together," I mutter into the pillow. "It's just temporary. Just a studio exec helping out talent."
A studio exec who somehow manages to look devastatingly handsome even during rushed production meetings. Who has a way of making everyone—even the greenest PA—feel seen and heard.
A soft knock at the door makes me freeze. I wait, holding my breath, until I hear retreating footsteps. Padding over, Ipeek out. On the doorstep sits a steaming cup of coffee. My heart flips as I pick it up and inhale the rich aroma. There's a sticky note attached:Thought you might need this. Have a great day on set. – G.
I smile, biting my lip, until my phone buzzes. It's a text from Brandon.
BRANDON
Girl, you never called me back last night. Everything ok with the flood situation?
I stare at the screen for a long moment before typing.
ME
Staying at Grant Hall's guest house. HELP.
His response is immediate.
BRANDON
WHAT??? Can you meet me at the studio? I'm at Stage 18 today for a commercial shoot. YOU OWE ME DETAILS.
"You're living in his guest house?" Brandon's voice booms across his makeshift green room tent as I step inside. I frantically shush him, glancing around the space.
I met Brandon Grimaldi years ago when I was still finding my footing in the industry. I was young, eager, and completely out of my depth on a physically demanding set, and Brandon—already a rising star in the stunt world—had swooped in like a real-life action hero, showing me how totake a fall without bruising more than my ego. What started as him giving me a few survival tips quickly turned into an unshakable friendship. He became my mentor, my partner in crime, and another big brother to me.
He also grew up surrounded by women—six sisters, to be exact—so, while he's all man, he's also completely at ease in a room full of women. The honorary girlfriend who knows the best shade of lipstick, who will hold your purse without complaint, and who somehow ends up in the middle of gossip sessions like he belongs there. But make no mistake—he's a notorious flirt, charming his way through an ever-revolving door of casual dates, never staying too long, never letting anything get too serious.
"Sorry, sorry," he whispers, motioning for me to join him on the chairs set up. "But seriously, Grant Hall.TheGrant Hall. The guy whose mere presence on set makes you flub your lines?"
"It's not like that," I protest weakly, clutching the coffee Grant left me. "He was just being nice. You know how he is—he probably would've offered it to anyone on our cast and crew if they needed it."
Brandon arches an eyebrow. "Honey, he's the head of the studio. He could've had his assistant book you the presidential suite at the Four Seasons. Instead, he personally offered you hisguest house. Try again."
"It's just temporary," I insist, warming my hands around the cup. "A few days, maybe a week tops, until the restoration company sorts everything out. And it's not like I'll see him much. Unless we cross paths here at work."
"Uh-huh." Brandon's knowing smile makes me want tocrawl under the nearby makeup table. "And how did you sleep last night?"
"Terrible," I admit. "The bed was amazing, but…" I trail off, remembering how I lay awake for hours, hyper-aware that Grant was just a hundred yards away in the main house, wondering if he was awake, too, and if he was thinking about me being there. "It's just weird, you know? Yesterday morning, I left my house for a scouting trip with Grant. Now I'm living in his guest house like the plot of some cliché romance novel.”
"Maybe it is,” Brandon says bluntly. "Sometimes, the best stories write themselves."
"I just need to stay focused. Keep things professional. Get through this without making a fool of myself."
Brandon squeezes my shoulder. "Or maybe, just maybe, you could let yourself see where this goes? The universe literally flooded you onto his doorstep, Soph. Even Edie would say that's a sign—and youknowhow she feels about improvising."
A voice calls out and makes us both jump. "Taping in five minutes," a PA calls out.
