Steal(Seaside Pictures Book 3)(6)

My jaw flexed. “Here you go.”

She took the phone. “My name’s—”

I laughed, rudely interrupting her as I shrugged and reached for my discarded coffee, “Sorry, no names.”

“No names?”

“Names cause a certain familiarity I’m not comfortable with. Next time lead with where you want me to screw you, and for how long… If you lead with a name then that means you want me to remember it, which I won’t.”

Her eyes widened.

“I’m late.” I winked. “But it was nice meeting a fan.”

“I can’t decide if you’re an ass on purpose or just really blunt,” she called after me. “But my name’s Cassidy if you change your mind.”

Ah so hopeful even when I turned on jackass mode.

I smirked. “Cassidy with two S’s?”

She gave me a hopeful look.

I walked away.

Always hopeful.

Until they discovered that the guy they fell in love with on stage was long gone; so far gone, he might as well be dead.

Destroyed the day his heart was wrecked.

A shell.

I was a shell.

At least I had a purpose.

And it had everything to do with the girl currently walking toward me with her hands on her hips and fire in her eyes.

“Where have you been?” Angelica seethed. “I called you three times! I don’t have a car here, and the hotel that the cast is staying at says it doesn’t have a reservation for my room!”

I walked by her.

She bit out a curse and fell into step beside me.

“That’s because they don’t.” I shoved my glasses back on my face and took in a deep breath. The salty air gave me a much-needed reprieve from my dark thoughts.

“Don’t what?” Her voice dropped. “Look, I know you still hate me, I get it—” Bullshit, she got nothing. “—but I need a place to sleep that isn’t the windy beach. It’s freezing here at night.”

A kid walked by with his kite; he waved at us and skipped ahead onto the sand, kicking it up into the air with wild abandon as his parents chased after him.

A sick feeling punched me in the gut.

Making it hard to breath.

Angelica froze next to me.

I gave my head a shake. “They don’t have a reservation because I didn’t make you one. I can’t keep an eye on you at the hotel, especially with at least two cast mates who have a drug past. You aren’t staying there.”

She brought her thumb to her mouth and started chewing on her perfectly polished nails.

My eyes narrowed. “You’re chewing your nails.”

She immediately stopped, while a blush crept up her neck. “Well you’re making me nervous.”

“You don’t get nervous.”

“It’s new.” She gulped and looked down. “You know, along with sobriety.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to lash out again, to hurt her.

But I was too tired to spar and too afraid she’d pack too many punches with her own words, punches I couldn’t receive without taking a hard hit in the chest.

“Let’s go.” I grabbed her elbow and led her to my waiting Mercedes.

She crawled in without argument.

And started chewing on her nail again.

“Not the least bit curious?” I asked with a smirk firmly in place so she wouldn’t get the wrong idea. I wasn’t flirting. I was baiting. Big difference.

She huffed out an exhale. “I’m too smart for those games, Will. If I stripped naked and begged on my hands and knees for information you’re more likely to steal my clothes and make me walk the streets naked while you follow yelling ‘Shame’ behind me as I make my way through town.”

“Been watching a lot of Game of Thrones, have you?” I barely suppressed my chuckle.

“It’s me.” She said in a calm voice.

“The mother of dragons?”

“Cersei.” She dropped her hand into her lap and looked out the window. “Let’s just say I identify with her as a character, especially the book character.”

I almost slammed on the breaks. “You’ve been… reading?”

“Yeah, well, when nobody gives me any scripts, what do you expect me to do to fill my time? Become a mermaid?”

“Or get a job,” I suggested. “You know reasonable employment, mopping floors, asking people if they want to super-size something — extra ketchup—”

“I get it.” She held up her hands. “Fine, where are we going?”

“Say please.”

“Please, Will.” Her voice softened, it was like a punch to the gut.

I refused to look at her.

I already knew what I’d see.

She was a talented actress, one of the best. Her lips would part on a breath, her skin would look so damn kissable my hand would flinch, and then her eyes would draw me in until she had me in her web — bloody, beaten, half-dead.