It'd been two weeks since the catastrophic wedding. Of course, I never actually told Leigh or anyone in attendance that it was indeed catastrophic. Specifically the aftermaths of it. Gloriously catastrophic. I didn't tell, until April visited me on set for an indie film I was shooting and I spilled my guts to her.
The notable Canadian director Ben Ross sat in his chair, a sandwich in hand as he issued instructions. I peeked to see all the crew members in their respective places. Then I shut the door to my trailer and sat April down on my makeup chair, myself perched on the edge of the table. And I told her about Roman.
"Jesus Christ, Erika. Jesus Christ!"
"Well, don't fucking shout."
"How could I… How could I not? You fucked Jethro's friend?"
I leaned back and accessed the simple shock on April's face with amusement. "April, don't act so stunned. It's not like you haven't known me capable of something like this."
April gave me something of a look, like she believed I grew two extra rows of teeth overnight. I rolled my eyes and glanced at everywhere but her. Her reprimand was written in BOLD print all over her face.
"It was Leigh's special day. You couldn't— you couldn't keep it restrained?"
My heart cracked at that. "I'm not some whore who can't control herself, April, and I'm not going to sit here and vent to you about something I did and have you judge me like that."
My chest heaved as I blasted my fury at her. I didn't deserve whatever she implied. And unknown to April, I did have myself under control, then more so than ever. That thought… that damn thought…
April sat with her palms in her thighs and her head bent. I stared at her for a beat longer before caving in, pulling her into a tight embrace.
"I'm sorry, Rixie."
"Thanks, April."
We talked about every other thing except Roman and our one-night beauty. I could tell April wanted to hear more about the actual experience, now her shock regarding the situation had dissipated. But she'd start, her mouth ever so slightly open to utter the words, then she'd eat them back again and revert to talks about Paris and her friends' one-night beauty experiences instead.
My agent burst in half an hour later to call places. In no time, I was no longer Erika Aspen Fox. I transformed, as my colleagues in the industry said, into my character. Nothing about anybody seeped into the embodiment of this character I now became. Nothing but Roman, whose electric blue gaze continuously replaced that of my costar, Asher Danbury.
During a scene where Asher and I were about to kiss, I leaned into him, feeling his muscles underneath the suit he donned. His electric blue eyes captivated and mellowed the last of my senses. I dove headfirst into the kiss, no holds bared. It wasn't until I pulled back that I realized…
You're such a goner, Erika.
I blinked Asher back into focus, only to see the young actor's beaming smile caressing me more intimately than he ever had. I knew there would be problems if I didn't squash his hopes, but right then, two Audis pulled up into set. Ben scrambled to address the guest—they were obviously important. And when she stepped down and out, I borrowed Asher's beaming smile—a more genuine version, obviously—and raced to Lady Wilder.
"Hi, Lady Wilder," I said from behind Ben.
She turned to me and opened her arms, her lavender scent wafting so naturally up my nostrils. She looked at me from head to toe, geared in my character's luxury. A stray strand of my hair blocked my left field of vision, and she tucked it lightly behind my ear.
I pressed away the shiver of a memory as she asked, "How are you, my darling?"
"Lovely, My Lady. I'm very…"
Roman Wilder materialized from the next Audi, his tailored but casual oversized button-down left loose at the top to reveal a collarbone I was more than familiar with. My cheeks began to burn and redden as he strutted, like he owned the set, over to his mother and me.
"I hope you don't mind that my son tagged along, Ben?"
The flustered, equally red-cheeked director—why was he flustered? OMG, dramatic?—stuttered a reply. "N-Not at all, My Lady. He's more than welcome to explore the set. In fact, how about we cameo him? Asher Donahue's character is supposed to have a partner in crime, and it would be stunning to just—"
"Oh, don't bother. My son has no interest in on-screen matters. It's a thing of willpower to get him out here most times."
Conversation erupted between Lady Wilder and Ben. Well, it wasn't much of a conversation since Ben did all the talking. Lady Wilder attempted multiple times to extract herself from his claws, but he insisted on Roman.
Then there was me, just staring at him. And him staring at me. I did the one thing I didn't realize I could do, at least not in the presence of royalty. If we were back in England when Lady Wilder's family had more power, I would never attempt this bold move. But I walk to Roman, cutting right in the middle of his rant to Lady Wilder, and I latch my forearm in the crook of his elbow.
Desire nibbled at my skin, prickling with spiny teeth into the depths of my flesh. I focused my gaze on our audience, now silenced and waiting with bated breath, very aware that Roman's eyes were strictly focused on me.
"Lady Wilder, Ben. I'd like to steal Roman for a little while. Talk him into taking the role and whatever."
Lady Wilder beamed. "Look at me, mannerless. I never got to asking if you remember my boy, Rixie. I thought I saw you both at the wedding, but well… It seems I needn't ask."
She turned to her son and the smile hardened, and her tone dished out sarcasm so foreign to the kind tone she lent me. "You'll listen to the lass, Roman, and give it some actual thought this time."
Then she let Ben swoosh her with ideas for films and blockbusters, while I was left alone with Roman, our arms still linked in tension together.
"Nice save."
I smirked. "I learned from the best."
Roman took my palms, turning them over to reveal scarred cuts on supple flesh—we had the makeup team to thank for that. He planted a kiss, firm and intentional, on each of my palms, and my cheeks burned to L.A. weather in the summer intensity.
As we toured the set, with me explaining the intricacies of the indie film we were shooting, I noted how intently he listened.
"So the character's wealth ultimately becomes her greatest strength and the cause of her downfall?" he asked.
I snapped my fingers repeatedly in excitement and grinned at him. "That's precisely it! Gosh, you understand it so well, it's crazy! You should really consider coming on board with this. Please?"
I gripped at his arms, memories of our night together momentarily blinding me, and blinked at him pleadingly. He laughed, attracting curious glances from some of the sound crew members.
"I don't know, Erika. I've watched my mom do this as a hobby in England and here, and I don't know. It comes naturally to her, so much that it feels unserious. I don't want to approach art like that."
Damn, he's got depth.
"But," he started, giving me a smile and stopping right in front of my trailer, "If you can talk me into it on our third date, I might just say yes."
Static filled my ears before it registered. "I'm sorry, third date?"
Roman stepped back from me slightly, bowing his head with my palms in his hands. He placed a kiss on them, so divine my nipples hardened upon contact, then he looked up at me and asked a question I was both frightened of and anticipating.
"Erika Aspen Fox, would you like to go on a date with me?"