Page 50 of All That Glitters

The real win would be to master the script. To do well, to gain recognition, and then throw it in his face by never taking another role again.

The script for Wretched isn’t going to learn itself, it’s true. And since Alicia is the title character, there are totally too many lines for me to learn by winging it. I’m doing it for me and for no other reason. Not to make Marcus happy, because fuck him.

I want to.

Every time I sit down with the script, I skip over the scene he wanted to run. I’m still too raw to focus on it without remembering his mouth on me. The way he teased me and coaxed me to the edge and then held me there without mercy. How hot Marcus looked with his fingers inside me and his mouth a firm line.

Nothing takes the edge off anymore.

Not the lust, not the anger. None of it. He’s made a horny monster out of me, and it wasn’t for any scene. I know it no matter how he tries to spin the situation. Not that he’ll look at me anymore. He prefers to keep his distance, and in the space he used to fill, I learn my lines.

I study, and I practice in front of the mirror to get better.

I even did a Facetime call with River yesterday to run a few of the lines past her and see what she thought. Her round of applause and compliments were heartfelt, although they didn’t make me feel any better.

I’m still an imposter.

I’m an imposter who would rather be anywhere else than holed up in front of a mirror running lines, doing her best not to think about the last person to read opposite her.

Not to mention how my stomach flips whenever I think about having to deal with the producer again. If Parker Heath said anything about me to Marcus after the opening, word hasn’t reached me. I’ll have to see him soon enough.

Which is even more of an incentive to get through this film. I’ll never have to see Parker again, and he’ll be nothing but a blur in my rearview mirror. I’ve been on two table reads with the rest of the cast, one right after the other, and it’s going pretty decently so far if I ignore the way he leers at me.

Yesterday’s reading went pretty well, and I found myself laughing with several of the other younger women who will play Alicia’s friend group. Even the older actor slated to play Mr. Patterson is a nice guy. Greg Bates has been in a handful of high-profile roles before and came across as a consummate professional.

Only, I’m out of my depth. That much is painfully clear.

I rub a hand along my arm, the chocolate brown top soft against my skin. As per my contract, I won’t have to spend the entire day on set filming with the others. Marcus negotiated things beautifully for me, but damn if I’ll thank him again. Who knows what it will devolve into with the two of us?

I don’t want to think about it.

“Empire.” Parker sits at the head of the table and beckons me forward with a crooked finger and a small, sly smile.

The empty doorway is further and further out of my reach, just like any breathing room from his oppressive presence. When I turn back to face him, I’m grinning, and the grin remains in place when I make my way to the table again.

“What’s the matter, Mr. Heath?” I ask.

“Filming officially starts on Monday but I thought it would be a good idea for you to get a head start on things.” His expression turns indulgent as he steeples his fingers together in front of him. “Since it’s your first role, and your manager has expressed some concerns over the highly sexualized nature of your part.”

“I’m not following you.” I feel like an even bigger fool because of it.

“I’m doing this for you. An unofficial start to filming to make you more comfortable. Think of it like dipping your toe into the pool rather than having to dive into the deep end in front of everyone.” His eyes warm as his gaze skims down to my chest and back up, meeting my eyes. “It will only be myself and the regular behind the scenes folk, although I’ve cut it down to the bare minimum.”

He expects me to be grateful. He probably expects me on my knees, and judging from the look in his eyes, my assumption isn’t far off.

“Thank you,” I manage to get out. “What time do you need me here?”

“I think eight will do just fine.” He waves his hand to shoo me away, already calling for his assistant.

A special day of filming just for me. Should I jump for joy? Should I…tell Marcus about it?

More than likely, he already knows, I think on my way out to the car.

Dusk has already fallen, and the sky is bathed in violet and gold and peach. My brows furrow down.

Not speaking to him makes it a little harder to feel grateful.

Instead, I set the alarm and get to the studio set by seven thirty the following morning.

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