Page 5 of Wicked Games

I don’t want it to end.

None of it.

The play.

The camaraderie backstage.

The fantasy of living in the Victorian era with all its beautiful clothes and elegant manners.

Some of the actresses complained about the corsets and heavy skirts but I loved every minute of it. I always hated having to toss on a simple pair of jeans and a T-shirt at the end of a performance after wearing such gorgeous silks and lace.

It was fun having my long, unruly hair arranged each night in dramatic upswept curls, held in place by large combs topped with enameled flowers and jewels.

Unfortunately, it all ended tonight.

With school projects due in a month, I wouldn’t have time to audition for any new roles till at least the new year.

At least my final project was going well. With the help of Mary Parker, the theater’s costume designer, I was working on a gorgeous Victorian tea gown made of woven champagne-colored damask with turquoise glass beads. I only had to complete the stylish Watteau pleat down the center back of the neckline and then finish the waist sash.

“Whore!”

The crude shout came from my left. It was the homeless woman who always crouched on this particular corner yelling obscenities at everyone who passed. When I first started commuting here for rehearsals, I felt bad and often gave her money, and even food if I had anything on me, but all she would do was scream at me. When she started spitting as well, I had no choice but to avoid her.

Quickly crossing the street to get away from her continued shouts, I was relieved when the Barbican Center came into view. Just then my cell began to vibrate.

“Hello?”

“Where the hell are you?” asked Jane anxiously.

Glancing at the phone’s clock, I saw that it was still only 2:30 p.m. Call time was at 3:00 p.m. like usual so I knew I wasn’t late. “I’m on my way. Why?”

“He’s here,” she whispered in a conspiratorial tone.

From her emphasis on he, I didn’t have to ask who.

Richard Payne, tech billionaire and an actual duke, like from a romance novel.

Apparently, his company was involved in everything from cell towers to space exploration. The man was worth billions… or probably billions on top of billions. Yet despite all his wealth coming from anticipating the next big breakthrough in technology, he was a bit old school.

His family came from old money and still valued the traditions of the British aristocracy. I heard a rumor he actually went on fox hunting parties with Harry and William and insisted on his guests wearing formal attire for dinners at his home, even if it was just a regular Tuesday.

Mr. Payne also happened to be the executive producer of our play.

And he scares me to death.

Everything about him was just… too much.

He was too rich. Too tall. Too intimidating.

He also happened to be handsome as hell, which didn’t help matters much. It only served to make me more nervous around the man.

So you could add too sexy to that list.

I was just an American girl from a small town in Pennsylvania. I didn’t know how to behave in front of a freaking duke! Let alone a super-rich and incredibly sexy one.

“Hello? Are you there?” asked an impatient Jane.

Snapping back to the present, I stammered, “Yeah… I’m still here. What’s he doing at the theater?”

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