Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 103931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
“What’s at stake is you being the reason your daughter is removed from the film permanently,” I say, unable to allow this woman to speak to Teagan or anyone like she is for another second.
She doesn’t belong here, and I intend to make it clear.
“And who the hell do you think you are?”
“Nobody important. Just the person behind the existence of this project.” I shrug.
“Mallory.” Teagan’s voice cuts through the thick air. “I’m okay. The director’s going to want to get on with filming. We’ve already—just . . .” She shakes her head, appearing defeated. “You can leave.” She looks at me. “You can both leave.”
Mallory’s head tips to the side. “If you’re sure.”
“I am.” Teagan reaches her hand out. “Thank you.”
There’s not a shadow of a doubt that Teagan genuinely likes and cares for Mallory, and as I look over and see the scowl on Brad’s face, I can’t help but be furious.
Furious for how Theresa Stewart talks to her daughter and Mallory, who’s only trying to help.
Furious about the impact this moment might have on the future of Twisted Lily.
More than anything . . . I’m furious that I’m furious.
What the actual hell is going on?
I don’t stand around. Instead, I find myself striding back toward my chair and fuming the entire way.
From a few feet behind me, I can hear the soft sound of Mallory’s faint footsteps. My back muscles tighten as I halt my steps and pivot to face her.
Her eyes go wide, and I’m not surprised. I’m pissed, and she can tell.
My jaw is locked tight, and my posture is rigid.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“This.” I motion around.
“The shoot?”
“No, you.” My hand lifts, motioning toward Teagan. “Her.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your client is out of her depth. You can’t even handle her mother, who has no business being on a closed set, to begin with.”
Her head shakes with confusion. I watch her mouth open and close, trying to find words, but she must come up with nothing because she stares at me.
“Why do you hate me so much?” she asks, catching me off guard. That was the last thing I expected her to ask.
“I don’t hate you,” I snap. “But I do blame you.”
I’m not even entirely sure what I blame her for. The respect she gets from her client? The fact that she’s unable to handle an unruly mother?
All of it?
She places her hands on her hips. “How is this my fault?”
“You are out of your element. Not schooled enough for this kind of shoot. You shouldn’t be here.”
“And you should?”
I take a step forward, and Mallory doesn’t even budge.
“I have years of experience. I own my company. I’m damn good at my job.”
She tosses both hands up in the air, throwing her head back. “And I’m not?”
I lift my right brow in answer.
“That’s bullshit. You know nothing about me. Nothing.”
“I can say it because it’s the truth. You barely have your training wheels on in this profession. You should be working your way up from the mailroom, just like everyone else.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I know that you had an unfair advantage. I know you are in no way prepared for this shit show. I know that your client is too new and too naïve to survive this picture. And I know the damage it will cause my client when this fails.”
“And what would you have me do? Walk away. Not try to help? Leave her to flail on her own?”
I shrug.
“If you think I’d ever walk away from someone who needs me, you don’t know anything about me.”
She walks past me, and after a few steps, she stops.
“You’re the one who brought my proposal to your client. Teagan is here because of you, just as much as me. You didn’t have to say yes.” She places her hands on her hips and cocks her head.
She has a point. If I were smarter, I would have told her to fuck off. The truth is, if I were smarter, I’d never have had a meeting with her in the first place. We’d had that one interaction that went too far and almost cost me my career before it got off the ground.
The meeting followed a phone call regarding Brad. His reputation was hanging in the balance, and we needed some good publicity. Stat.
It bought some time to come up with a plan to push the narrative that he’s not a tyrant to work with. That he treats his costars fairly. That he’s a mentor looking to help new talent succeed.
Good publicity.
Looking back, I see none of this was worth it.
I’d have been better off letting Brad sink. Instead, despite my better judgment, I let this woman throw my client and me a lifesaver.
And here we are, in the middle of the ocean, adrift anyway.