Page 19 of Filthy Rich

Before she has a chance to argue with me, I trot toward the entrance and check in with hair and makeup. They insist on touching things up, always, but they don’t make many changes, thankfully. After more than ten years of doing my makeup, I’ve gotten pretty good at it. All the makeup tutorials in the world don’t really make you an expert on balancing the skin of a severe burn with regular skin—life experience and two different colors of foundation help, though.

We all become experts at things when they become necessary.

Usually not a moment sooner.

“Your hair is just breathtaking,” the woman—Cecilia, I think?—gushes again. “I swear, I can’t believe you don’t get it colored. People kill for this rich, mahogany color.”

“Thanks.” Though I’m not so delusional that I think it’s different than just plain old brown.

Well-intentioned people go one of two ways when they meet me. They become super complimentary of everything, or they avoid talking about my appearance entirely. I’m not sure which is more awkward, but I know the people who are paying me loads of compliments are really trying, and that means something.

“Octavia?” Eddy’s standing in the doorway. “They’re ready for you.”

Now if only I was ready for them.

“Right.” I stand and brush the nonexistent lint off my pants. “I did want to clarify.” I gesture at my outfit. “Do I really need to be wearing all white, basically?” The white slacks feel like butter, and the white blouse is silky and gorgeous, but it’s strange. “Am I some kind of sacrifice for a dragon?”

Eddy’s lip twitches. “Not as far as I know.”

“Because I’d rather go in prepared if I am. At least give me a knife to hide behind my back.”

“It’s because you’re light and he’s dark. You’re the beauty and he’s the monster.” A woman steps out from behind Eddy. “I’m Jane Wellford, and you, my dear, need no introduction.”

“I do have a uniquely recognizable visage,” I say.

The woman has a dark brown, perfectly coiffed bob. A smile plays with the corners of her mouth just before she says, “It’s not your visage that interests me, though it seems to have created quite the furor online.”

“No?”

“It’s your voice. The second I heard it, I greenlit the request to use two nobodies for the soundtrack. If you knew who else we were considering, you’d know what it meant that I chose you. Now that you have the chance, I want you to take it. Go out there and be light and beauty.” She lifts her chin a hair. “Got it?”

Her strange sort-of pep talk actually helps. I can’t tell whether she’s a fan or a hater, but either way, the intense way she’s studying me is invigorating. I square my shoulders and walk past Eddy and Jane and toward the area marked as set eighteen. Before doubts can sneak back in, I push through the door. Standing in the center of the set, surrounded by at least five or six different women, is Jake Priest. He looks like he’s a king holding court or something.

Golden hair falls just so across his brow, shining under the stage lights. His brilliant, large blue eyes, dimples, and broad shoulders are visible even when occluded by the gaggle of flirting women.

“She’ll be here any minute, and I need to be—” As if something alerted him to my presence, he turns, his eyes meeting mine. When he smiles, it’s like a light was flipped on. The room brightens.

It’s outrageous that people online are linking us romantically. There couldn’t be a more mismatched pair than Jake and me, so I need to focus and get these music videos out of the way before the crazy ideas make me unhappy with my real life.

“Ready to get started?” Jake actually looks. . .excited? Which I do not understand at all.

“Sure,” I say, only now noticing that he’s wearing all black to my white. “This—” I gesture between our outfits. “It’s funny.”

“Is it?” He quirks a brow. “I kind of like it.”

The girls are whispering, and I wonder what they’re doing here until I realize they’re all in grey. They’re our backup singers. Of course they are. Six perfect faces, all of them here to help us stand out.

“This set.” Jane steps past me into the smallish room and waves. “We decided to mirror the meet cute scene of the movie.”

“Meet cute?” Jake arches one eyebrow. “I’m not sure you can call a courtroom cute, and I’m not sure you can really say that anything about their first meeting is cute.”

“That’s what I like about it. They’re diametrically opposed from the start. So in the movie, when they meet, grabbing disgusting courtroom coffee from the cart outside, they have no idea they’re on opposite sides. It’s not until Helene carries the coffee into the same courtroom. . .and hands it to her father that Tom realizes. . .she’s here with the prosecution.”

“So the courtroom. . .” I glance around. “And the coffee?”

“Everything in a courtroom is black and white,” Jane says. “So we’re doing the shots in black and white, except for the two of you, and you’re dressed in black and white too. That means your faces will really stand out.” She beams. “I think it’s brilliant. We might do the same thing for the introductory scene.”

“Might?” I ask. “Haven’t you filmed it yet?”

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