My stomach twists into another knot, which makes me wonder if that yogurt and bowl of fruit were such a good idea. I’m not going to be able to hide in these trailers any longer; I’m going to have to face Dex, have to look into those stormy blue eyes and try not to think of all the times I’ve looked into them before.
“Oh, one last thing,” Eric says, scrambling to fetch a shoebox from the bottom of a rack. “These are for you, my star.” Holding the box out, he opens the lid to reveal a pair of silver high heels with a one-inch platform.
Ashton must see the look on my face, because she touches my arm. “You’ll do fine. We’re not going to ask you to dance in them or anything.” Her laughter is bubbly, but it doesn’t quite chase the nerves from my stomach.
Eric kneels, and I lift one foot, then the other, to let him slip them on. Now I’m suddenly three inches taller, and even though I’m not a fan of heels, they do make me feel better, stronger.
I glance back at myself one last time, and the woman staring at me in the mirror looks fierce. She doesn’t look like someone who would let a man make her feel small. And though I might not feel like that woman on the inside, I’m going to do my best to channel her on the outside. I’ve just got to get through the shoot, and then I won’t ever have to see Dex Reid again.
“All right,” I say, catching Ashton’s eye in the mirror. “I’m ready.”
chapter 24
WE LEAVE THE TRAILER, AND Ashton walks with me—slowly because of the heels—toward the manor. Its crumbling vine-covered facade and stained glass windows make it feel old, haunted. Ashton holds a hand out to help me up the steps, but I don’t take it, determined to do this on my own—to face Dex with some shred of dignity left.
The rounded doorway looms over my head as I pass through it and into the foyer. It looks even more degraded in here, with scaffolding and other equipment set up around the perimeter of the room to keep the walls from falling away further. The two twin staircases seem to be in working condition, given the group of people standing around on one. A man talks in a big voice, gesturing with his arms, and I get the distinct feeling he’s the director. Then the man shifts to one side, and a pair of blue eyes find mine across the space.
My stomach twists, and butterflies burst to life.
Stupid butterflies. They don’t know that he’s abandoned us.
Standing a bit taller, I hold Dex’s stare. I refuse to glance away first, to be the small broken thing he tossed aside in favor of his more expensive toy.
“Ah, Ms. Miller,” the director says, noticing me for the first time. He hustles down the stairs, which gives me my first full look at Dex.
He’s wearing a black three-piece suit, one hand tucked into the front pocket of his pants. His long blond hair has been left down, styled to look carelessly perfect, and it takes effort not to think about touching it, running my hands through it.
His expression is . . . guarded. He doesn’t smile at me, doesn’t even smirk. Instead, his lips are pulled slightly down in the corners, and his brow is furrowed.
And it makes me mad. He doesn’t get to look at me like that, doesn’t get to pretend to be concerned.
“Ms. Miller, you look perfect,” the director says, coming to stand in front of me. With my heels on, I stand about an inch taller than him, and I decide I like how it feels. “Have you ever acted before?” he asks.
I consider just shaking my head and staying silent, then remember I’m channeling that powerful woman staring back at me from the mirror, so instead, I smile and say, “Never. You’ll have to teach me.” It comes out a bit flirtier than I intended, but the director smiles.
He quickly summarizes the plot of the video, and as he does, my stomach contorts into more and more complicated knots. The video will be about a man searching for his lost love, the one who got away. He’ll chase her through the halls, but every time he thinks he’s caught her, she vanishes, just an apparition. A ghost.
I’d like the concept if not for how painfully relevant it feels right now. Granted, Dex isn’t chasing me anywhere. I’m not so sure he’d care if he never saw me again.
“We’ll start with you on the stairs,” he says, using his arms to do another big gesture. “You’ll descend playing the violin. Walk slowly—we have to get your entire solo in—and then you’ll lower the violin, glance over your shoulder longingly, and drift through that doorway.” He points to the far door, which is standing open already.
So, he wants me to walk down the stairs in heels while playing the violin. That sounds like a recipe for disaster.
My gaze shifts once more to the staircase, where Dex is still lingering. Some of the crew are flocking around him, but when I look his way, he glances up and catches my eye.
“Mr. Reid will mirror you on the opposite staircase,” the director continues. “I want you to look over at him as you play. Think pining, longing. Can we try that?”
He wants me to look like I’m pining? I almost scoff.
The humor is not lost on me.
At that moment, some sort of assistant hurries up beside me, my violin case in her hand.
“Here you go, Ms. Miller.”
I take the case from her, and having it in my hand makes me feel a fraction better.
“Okay,” I finally say, meeting the director’s eyes. “Let’s try it.”
After I practice descending the staircase in heels—which I actually survive—the director is ready to try it with me playing.
I polished my violin before leaving the house this morning, so it gleams in the dim light streaming through the stained glass windows. The film crew has a bunch of lights set up as well, and they make my skin buzz with warmth.
Dex is standing to my far left, at the top of the other staircase. Dust motes float through the shafts of light cutting through the space between us. His eyes are on me, but he hasn’t said a word.
Fine. Two can play at that game.
“Okay, Ms. Miller,” the director calls out, “let’s give this a try. Don’t worry too much about getting it right the first time. We can do it as many times as we need.”
Jordan, Alisha, Sebastian, Michael, and Lucas are standing in the foyer. They all—except for Lucas—flash me smiles and encouraging thumbs-ups. I smile back, reminding myself that today I’m channeling confidence.
“Ghost” starts playing over the speakers. I have a few measures until I need to come in, so I take my time lifting my violin and preparing for the solo.
Then I draw my bow across the strings, and I’m caught up immediately in the music.
One step at a time, I descend the stairs slowly. When I have my balance and don’t fear missing a step, I look to my left, where Dex is descending the twin staircase. I take in his long legs and the tattoos on the hand he’s running down the banister, and the pining in my gaze isn’t something I have to fake.
