Page 20 of Erik

Maggie opens her mouth to retort, but Logan speaks first, “Plus, there’s nothing the band, or your office, can do to change that. With the new health safety measures, huge studios such as this have had to adapt.” He shrugs. “It is what it is.”

When everyone begins muttering their goodbyes, I click the leave button, and snap the laptop shut.

Tightening my grip on the neck of the empty bottle, I unfold from the chair to throw the glass container in the trashcan for recyclables, hidden in the cupboard under the tiny sink.

Hustling footfalls approach the trailer. I whirl toward the door, and someone jerks it open from outside. I bury my face in the crook of an arm, warding off the sunshine bursting in. Another reason I had the windows painted black.

Rita Fraser hops in. “Hey, you.”

My stomach twists at the sight of her dull blue eyes. When she steps inside, I sag onto a chair opposite the couch, pulling my feet up on the leather cushion, studying the tip of my boots.

Folding my arms on my chest, I growl, “Why the fuck have you come back? Haven’t you done enough today already?”

Oblivious to my mood, or words, Rita cups my cheek.

I swat her hand.

She rubs a bare thigh on my arm.

Disgust churns bile in my guts. I shove her leg.

Losing her balance, she plops down on the couch, and whines, “Since shooting started, you’ve been stuck here all the time.”

I smirk. “That’s my job.”

She never takes a hint. Or ten.

“Can I come by the hotel tonight?” She bats her eyelashes at me. The beer threatens to make a comeback in my mouth. “We haven’t made love since this film started.” She shrugs. “I miss you.”

I drop my head on the back of the chair, groaning. How dense can someone be?

With a long exhale, I explain it in as slow a pace as I would a toddler to ensure Rita understands, “I am working. I am a fucking executive producer.” I snap my head up to hold her stare. “I’d rather make sure they don’t fuck up my music.”

Ignoring me, and reality, Rita leans forward. “I just crave some attention from my super hot boyfriend.” She palms my cock over my pants. Nothing moves inside them. “Is that too much to ask?”

I unfold from the chair to escape her claws, fighting to keep lunch down. I snarl, “We’re not a couple.”

“Don’t I know that?” Red taint her sunken cheeks spreading fast down her neck. “I want to change this shitty situation. I’ll do anything you ask of me.”

She licks her lips and bile shoots up my throat. I swallow hard before replying, “I don’t need anything from you.”

I fist my hands, pressing them against my thighs. I don’t even want to look at Rita right now, not after she’s driven away the only woman I truly crave.

As if she could read my mind, or decipher my expression, Rita furrows her brow. A darkness overshadows her face. She jeers, “Little Miss Virtue-on-Thick-Thighs will never fuck you like I do. She’s too uptight for your brand of sex.”

Fuck, that hurts.

How can a person as dumb as a door mat strike a nerve with such accurate aim? My ears ring with the speed of blood racing through my veins fueled by the purest rage I’ve felt in years.

Bent on my waist to reach her eye level, I drop my voice to a lethal whisper. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? You can barely function without chemical enhancement.”

I leave her venom about Christine out of the equation. I won’t give her the satisfaction of realizing it has hit bull’s-eye.

Her eyes get unfocused as she stretches her sleeve over her wrist. I grab that arm, yanking up the loose wool of the black sweater, until I bare her shoulder.

My temper hits boiling temperatures at the sight of a mark where a needle has pricked her skin, a drop of blood leaking from it.

I discard her arm as if it were a gruesome snake. “You disgust me.” I stalk to the desk, skirting it to stand beside the chair. “I’ve had it.”

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