Page 9 of Nathan

“She followed the order just fine. I ignored it.”

“Her bad.”

“No.” Nate jabs a finger at Bernard. “Your bad. And my bad. She did nothing wrong. So, here’s what’s going to happen. Either you give Dex her job back, or I’m going to have a quick chat with Marjorie about what I saw in your office earlier today.”

Bernard’s eyes widen. “We had a deal,” he says, spittle forming in the corners of his mouth. “A reduction in my fee for your silence.”

Nate nods. “That was before I heard what happened to Dex. I’m revising our deal.”

Bernard’s fisted hands shake, and he gives Nate an intense, fevered stare. Nate doesn’t budge an inch, though. In fact, he looks almost bored. I half-expect him to yawn and check his watch.

“I’ll ruin you.”

Nate barks out a mirthless laugh. “Oh, Bernard, don’t you remember anything from our conversation earlier? Let me remind you. I. Don’t. Care. I don’t need millions in the bank, or adoring fans knocking down my door, or my face on the front of GQ magazine to define who I am. I act because I like acting. If it isn’t in TV shows and movies, it’ll be Broadway or London’s West End. Or even a local fucking theater that seats twenty.” He taps his temple. “Get it into your thick skull. You have zero leverage over me. Zero.”

“But you want the Stefan Lowe movie. I know you do. You practically salivated at the idea of auditioning for him.”

“You’re right,” Nate says. “He’s one of the most talented directors of our time. Any actor would jump at the chance to work with him, which is why I called him after I left your office this afternoon.” He examines his fingernails. “I said you and I were having a few communication issues, and therefore it might be best if he deals with me directly. Don’t worry, though. If I land the part, you’ll still get your cut—at the reduced rate.”

Whatever I thought about Nate O’Reilly prior to this moment disappears as quickly as the morning mist under the heat of the rising sun. I completely misjudged the guy. I fell for the oldest trick in the book and allowed myself to be swayed by his public image, mistaking it for reality.

A vein throbs in Bernard’s forehead. He flashes a hate-filled glare at me, then turns back to Nate.

“You’re a piece of work.”

Nate beams. “Thanks. I learned from the best.”

“Fine,” he spits. “She can have her job back. Now get out of my fucking house.”

Nate shakes his head. “Two things. Firstly, you will apologize to Dex for the way you treated her.”

“Over my dead body,” Bernard says.

Nate sneers. “The way you down whiskey on the regular, Bernard, that won’t be too far away. Now apologize.”

I hold my breath, wondering what Nate’s next move will be if Bernard refuses again.

“Okay. I apologize,” Bernard says, the fearsome glance in my direction telling me he’s not in the least bit sorry.

I’m not surprised by his reaction. In less than twenty-four hours, I’ve witnessed Bernard in not one, but two mortifying circumstances. A man like him won’t take that kind of humiliation lying down. I hold back a shudder and lift my chin.

“I accept,” I say, the first words I’ve uttered since arriving at Bernard’s home.

“Excellent.” Nate winks at me, the gesture so fast, I’m sure I’ve imagined it. “Secondly, Dex has a very difficult job working for you. She has to deal with arrogant pricks like me on a daily basis, not to mention having to look at your face every day, which must be somewhat of a chore. Therefore, I think a pay rise is in order.”

My gasp is drowned out by Bernard’s, “Fuck off.”

Nate shrugs. “Fine. If that’s the way you want it.” He cocks his head at me and wanders over to the door. Like an adoring puppy with its master, I follow. “It’s been ages since I saw Marjorie. You really should take her out more, Bernard.”

For a big man, Bernard moves quickly. Nate has only opened the door a couple of inches when Bernard slams his large hand against it. “Okay, okay. Five percent.”

“Fifteen,” Nate hits back.

My heart rattles my ribcage. I lean close to Nate, my elbow digging into his ribs. “Don’t push it. I need this job,” I mutter out of the side of my mouth.

Nate ignores me as Bernard counters. “Ten.”

Nate laughs. “When will you learn? This isn’t a negotiation, Bernard. Fifteen percent, backdated to the start of the month.”

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