Page 37 of The Casting Couch

Bradley glanced between the two of us, his confusion plain as day.

Poor guy.

He had no idea what he was walking into.

“C’mon,” I said, tilting my head down the hall.“This way.”

Bradley fell into step beside me, close enough that I caught a whiff of him.No cologne, no obvious scent, just an earthy, masculine scent.

And damn… he was hot.

Broad shoulders, lean build, sharp jawline with that little notch in his chin that made him look like he belonged on the cover of some late-night Cinemax movie.

Which, yeah, was frustrating.

Couldn’t he just be some normal cocky guy with a big dick who wanted to be a porn star?Why did he have to come with a criminal record and a warning label from Laura?I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep from doing something dumb, like reaching out to touch his arm.

Halfway down the hall, he cleared his throat.

“So… what exactly is about to happen?”His voice was low and uncertain, like he already knew he wasn’t gonna like the answer.

I hesitated, wondering if I could tell him the truth.

I could tell him Lola was about to wax him within an inch of his life, probably while giving a running commentary on his grooming habits.

Or…

I could sugarcoat it.

“Don’t worry,” I said, forcing a casual smile.“All performers see Lola regularly to stay camera ready.”

He gave me a look that said that didn’t answer my question at all.

I inhaled, pushed my sunglasses up onto my head, and added, “It’s a perk of the job, you know?Free beauty treatments.Haircuts.Skin care.The studio takes care of everything.”

Then, because I’m apparently an idiot, I tacked on, “Not that you need help in that department.”

I froze the second the words left my mouth.

Bradley blinked, like he wasn’t sure if he’d just been complimented or insulted.

I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets and kept walking faster.

By the time we reached the very back of the office, the part where the air smelled faintly like hairspray, lavender oil, and industrial-strength disinfectant, I was sweating.

Lola’s door was wide open, and I caught a full view of the setup.

Wax pot bubbling.Linen strips stacked like ammunition.Latex gloves on the counter.

The battlefield was ready.

Lola herself stood inside, wearing a bright green kimono and a lipstick shade that could only be described as nuclear fuchsia.She spotted me first, then Bradley.

“Well, look who finally showed up for his sacrifice,” she purred, stepping forward.

Before I could make my escape, she grabbed my face with both hands and squinted at me like she was inspecting fruit at a farmer’s market.

“When I’m done with this guy, come see me,” she said, giving my cheeks a little squeeze.“Your eyebrows are looking tragic.”

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