Page 2 of Broken Rules

And I couldn’t deny she was beautiful, or she might have been if she put a little effort into herself.She was barefaced.Her auburn hair looked like she might have run her fingers through it before putting it up in a sloppy bun.The ugly sandals she wore were so old they were practically gasping for air, barely clinging to life.I didn’t think it was my imagination, the faint aroma of incense following her around.It reminded me of when I saw her at my father’s honorary industry event, where her version of ‘dressing up’ looked more like a protest against nice clothes.

This wannabe hippie was going to question me?“This will be the first film my name is on,” I admitted since there was nothing to be ashamed of.“But rest assured, I grew up behind the studio gates.I felt more at home here than I did anywhere else.”What did I think I would get admitting that?A little understanding?The hope she might soften?

I was disappointed.“But you’ve never produced a major film?”

A fucking Google search could’ve told her that.Dammit, she knew how to hit a nerve.“I know exactly what needs to be done.”Where the fuck did she get off, anyway?

“Good, because we’re in a hurry.”She reached into the tasseled satchel bag she carried over her shoulder and pulled out a thick binder, which she opened on her lap.“I have all of this information on my MacBook, as well, and I can forward it to you.”

“What information would that be?”

“I’ve put together a list of actors who are perfect for this.People who immediately came to mind when I read the script.”It was almost cute how naïve she was.I almost hated bursting her bubble.

Almost.

Because she had started us off on the wrong foot, glaring at me like I didn’t deserve to breathe air.“That’s very nice, and I’m sure it will be taken into consideration.”

She looked up from the pages she flipped through, arching an eyebrow.“You aren’t interested in seeing the list?”

I folded my hands on my desk the way I’d seen Dad do countless times.“Miss Strawbridge, let’s get something straight.”

“Summer.”

“Pardon me?”

“My name is Summer.You don’t need to call me Miss Strawbridge.You’re not old enough to put on the whole formal act.”

This arrogant little bitch.She had a point, but how she delivered it left me biting back a growl.“I hope you don’t think that means you get to call me Lex.”

“I wouldn’t make an assumption like that.”

“Thank you.Summer,” I continued, emphasizing her name, “I understand what you must be dealing with right now.You’re still fairly untested, new in town.”

She bristled.“Not exactly new.”

Why was everything an argument?“You were in talks to helm two different films at other studios,” I snapped.“And both times, you were replaced by other, more experienced directors.What would you call that?”

“I’ve directed five independent features, one of which premiered at Cannes and won the award for Best Short Film.”

“That was Eric Danvers’ film,” I reminded her.The director I wanted.His work onRoad to Gloryproved he was a master at capturing breakneck speed on film.I almost forgot to breathe more than once during the climactic race scene with its daring camera angles that fully immersed me in the action.He would’ve been perfect for another longer feature revolving around a group of amateur race car drivers.

“It’s a long story.”Her posture went rigid, like someone stuck a broomstick down the back of her dress.“Rest assured, my fingerprints are all over the finished product, regardless of whether my name appears in the credits.”

Interesting.It wouldn’t be the first example of someone being cut out of a finished product after pouring themselves into it.For every star on the Walk of Fame, there were hundreds of stories of people whose dreams were shattered.

“What happened?”I asked.“Was there some kind of falling out?”

Somehow, she managed to go even stiffer.“That’s personal.”

“I’m asking for the sake of understanding what I’m getting into with you.Was there a creative disagreement with Eric Danvers?”

“Yes.”Her jaw tightened, and a sneer curled her lip.“There was a disagreement.A falling out.And he decided to pretend I didn’t carry that entire film on my back.And because he’s a man, everyone believed him that I was impossible.Difficult.Stubborn.A bitch,” she concluded, the word exploding from her mouth.

“Are you?”What was wrong with me?Why the hell did I ask her that?It had to be the attitude she carried.There was a wall of energy around her, hot and prickly.Something about it touched a perverse part of me that wanted to antagonize her, and I didn’t know why.

“Do you expect me to say yes?”she countered.“Would that make it easier for you if I said yes, I’m a real bitch when I put my mind to it?Exactly how would you define a bitch?”

This was a mistake.I held up my hands in mock surrender, chuckling.“Fine.You don’t need to twist my balls.It was a joke.”

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