Page 15 of Bound By Brielle (Crave & Cure Productions)

He relays the information into his radio, head tipped toward it but eyes on me. Releasing the radio he presses a finger to his ear, and it’s then I spot the clear piece wedged in his ear canal.Jesus, he’s got an ear piece?I shift in my heels as sweat bubbles up on my back beneath my white blouse. Finally he says, “Alright.”

Slowly, I climb the stairs and when I reach the top, face to face with the guard, he halts me, resting his hand over the keypad near the knob. “92022,” he says, scowling. “That’s the code. Don’t share it.”

“9..2..0..2..2,” I slowly repeat, committing it to memory.

He nods then lowers his voice to add, “It’s the date my favorite book came out.”

For whatever reason, that surprises me, and it’s one of the many curveballs this entire morning is throwing my way. Because so far? This is not at all what I expected.

I punch in the numbers and pull open the door, stepping inside as my eyes adjust to the low light inside the building. Soft laughter bounces around as conditioned air cools my cheeks, the smell of fresh coffee and pastries overtaking my senses.

Hands still nervously clinging to my purse, I take a few cautious steps forward, completely unsure of where to go or who Augustus is. Who should I be looking for? The name Augustus sounds like it belongs to a man who watches birds with binoculars and wears shoes with velcro, but as my eyes take inventory of the people standing around, no one fits that description. There’s also no one in fuzzy slippers and white tank tops, either.

A woman with chestnut hair, sunglasses settled on top of her head, saunters over, wiping her hands on the apron tied around her waist. “Who are you looking for, babe?” she asks, hands fishing around her apron pockets until she retrieves a tube of lipstick with one, lipliner with the other.

“Augustus Moore,” I say slowly, peering around the space, my eyes going wide as a hunky blonde drops his robe to the floor, exposing a lean, chiseled body and ahuge, hard cock.

The woman follows my slack jaw and wide eyes to the man before coming back to me with a smirk. “That’s Tucker Deep. But he’s married, so put your tongue back in your mouth.”

“I–I–” I stammer, literally tearing my eyes away from his erection and plump balls to focus on the woman.

“Aug’s in his office.” She motions down the hall with the hand holding the lip liner. “First door on the left.”

I nod, processing that dick as I murmur, “Okay, thanks.”

“Sure,” she says with a smirk, turning to cross the space, attending to a beautiful brunette sitting in a chair. She grabs the actress's chin and tips her face up and begins lining her lips.

Turning to the hall, I head down, sneaking a deep breath in through my nose, pushing it out through my mouth quietly as the door nears. I stop in my tracks, and take two paces back as a deep voice tumbles out into the hall.

“It’s cruel, it’s fucking cruel, you know that? Making me say this over and over. Do you think I want to say it over and over? I don’t want it to be true, and I sure as fuck don’t want to say it aloud on a weekly goddamn basis!”

My eyes widen. Jesus.Whois that? What is he angry about? A porno script? I take another step, swallowing what I hope is the last lump of nerves as my neck veers forward, my brain quietly listening from instinct. I totally eavesdropped on my dad a ton as a kid.

“I’m not…” another deep voice speaks, and along my forearms, goosebumps rise. I rub one palm over my arm, trying to will them away. These voices are…deep. My stomach clenches. “I’m not trying to be cruel. Fuck! I don’t want to hurt–”

The voice stops abruptly and then I see it—my shadow in front of me, painted along the floor in front of the open door. My eyes widen in horror.Oh my god. Holy shit—whoever is talking knows I’m eavesdropping. Oh my–

“Come in or keep walking but do not stand there and listen!” he shouts.

My ears burn as I take two small steps forward, into the doorway. My eyes land on—holy shit. A very,veryhot man. Maybe in his mid forties, I don’t know, I’ve never been good at guessing age, but his hair is jet black, peppered on the sides with silvers and whites, a dark beard coating the lower half of his face. His brindle eyes are set on me, broad shoulders squared off behind a large desk, built chest covered in a fitted dress shirt the color of the sky at dusk, deep purple, nearly black. He’s incredibly fucking handsome, and does not look like what I expected a porn director to look like. My eyes drop to the nameplate on his desk. And sure enough, he is a porn director.

I point awkwardly at his name. “Augustus Moore. You’re, uh, who I’m looking for.” I extend my hand, sweat pouring down my back, my cheeks definitely cherried from embarrassment.Jesus Christ, he caught me eavesdropping. “I’m Brielle Parker.”

He glares at my hand a moment before his dark eyes come back to mine. “Am I supposed to shake your hand from ten feet back?”

I shake my head and scurry forward. Yes,scurry. I take these weird, tiny steps, trying not to move my hips for some reason, and keep my hand out the whole time. Augustus definitely takes note of my sudden awkwardness, staring at me a moment before rising, sliding his large hand into mine.

“Hello, Brielle.” He nods across the room, and it’s then I remember there were two voices. I turn to see—no fucking way.Anotherabsolutely gorgeous man, this one leaner but still muscular, blonde hair and a sharp, clean-shaven jaw. Piercing blue eyes look me up and down a second before he gets to his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets as if to sayI am not shaking your hand.“This is Lance.”

“Hi Lance,” I greet the gorgeous but icy man. “Nice to meet you.”

His lips press into a thin line as he studies my face a moment, then says coolly, “Yeah, you too.”

My head volleys back to Augustus. “You’ll be working with both of us. I’m the director you were assigned to, which you clearly know, but Lance is an equal to me, and oftentimes, is more knowledgeable than myself when it comes to the studio’s inner workings. I mainly direct, whereas Lance helps with directing and essentially keeps the entire studio going.”

I notice the way Augustus’s eyes move past me to Lance, hovering there with depth before coming back to me. “You will arrive at nine. Get the daily schedule from Lance, as well as the call sheet, and we’ll work from there each day. You get a one-hour lunch break, but it changes time depending on the shoot.”

I nod, committing the details to memory. “Okay.”

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