Page 84 of Out of the Gold

Chase

Considering it’s 4:00 a.m.,I’m the only one in this gym, which is smaller than the one at my hotel but still serviceable. Jumping onto the exercise bike, I pedal away the calories I’ve been eating. Can’t have a flabby superhero. Earbuds in, I feel the burn and push through. When I’ve done thirty minutes, I hop over to the free weights and start in on the arm exercises my trainer gave me a week ago.

Despite my best efforts to stay focused, my mind wanders to the woman who has invaded my life and turned it inside out, in a good way. To the woman I left sleeping—naked—in my bed.

Melody’s teaching me by example of how to live your own truth. If not for her, I would’ve never flown halfway around the world to audition for the Broadway play. It was a good audition. I nailed the lines, made appropriate eye contact, and did everything I’ve been taught. God. I really want that part.

But I don’t have any control over whether they cast me. And their demeanor certainly wasn’t encouraging. I sigh as I begin my last set of cross-body curls.

Huffing with exertion, I put the weights into their cradle and pick up some kettle bells. Sam thinks I’m nuts for wanting to change the direction of my career, but he’s not me. This is what I want. Not another stupid rom-com. Not even the movie about Hunte that I auditioned for before filming forDoctor Manipul8began.

Shit. The Hunte movie. Maybe I should talk with Melody about my audition? Before the thought flits through my head, I’m already nullifying it. She distinctly told me how she is not involved with it at all and hasn’t mentioned it to me in ages. If I’m on the short list to play her father, I’ll tell her. No use bringing up a what-if with her now. Besides, I should hear from the Broadway show first.

Dropping the kettle bells, I begin my final exercise, the dreaded burpees. I quiet my mind and get to work on the buggers. The sooner I complete these hundred, the sooner I can get back to the room. And wake up sleeping beauty.

Finally finished, I grab a cup and fill it with cucumber water. I glance at the TV and grimace as my face is plastered all over the screen as being a “wedding crasher.” The bride and groom gave details about meeting me yesterday and shared some of the photos. I run a towel over my sweaty forehead and toss it into the basket. At least it was positive press. And Melody wasn’t mentioned.

At ten after five, I arrive at our villa. We need to get a move on if we’re going to be in my trailer at seven to sew me into my suit. My lips quirk at how much more fun the chore is going to be. When I enter the bedroom, Melody’s not in bed and the shower’s running. A grin touches my lips. We definitely have enough time for what I have in mind.

A languid Melody drapes her hand on my leg as I drive us back to the lot. We managed to gather our stuff and get into the rental car by six thirty, after an amazing bout in the shower. Where we got very dirty before we got clean.

I rub my finger over my lips. “So, are you looking forward to sewing me into my superhero costume today, Goldie?”

She blushes. I love that she blushes for me. “I think it may be more enjoyable than ever before, especially since I now know exactly what you’ve got going on underneath.”

My voice drops an octave. “Only for you.” Truer words have never been spoken.

On my thigh, she traces various shapes. After a few minutes where I have to concentrate on navigating the winding, narrow Italian roads down toward Amalfi, her head pops up.

“Charles,” she begins.

“Hmmm?” A bus ahead honked, which I’ve learned means he’s coming toward me and there’s not enough room for both of us on the road. I apply the brakes and he passes. From now on, I’m leaving the driving here to those experienced with the crazy rules of the road.

“Charles,” she repeats.

I spare her a quick glance, then return my concentration on my drive. “Yes?”

“I’ve been thinking.”

At her words, my stomach tightens. Nothing good ever follows this statement out of a woman’s mouth. Has she been using me? Wanted to get rid of her virginity with someone who’s a notorious player? My breath catches.

She continues, “I’d like to keep our relationship a secret.”

My brow furrows. How could I have misread her so thoroughly? I was a means to an end, nothing more.

Before I can formulate a response, she blurts, “It’s just that, I’m, well, in so deep with you and I don’t want anyone to spoil what we have. I also don’t want to get the reputation I’m with you to further my career.” She retracts her hand. “And I don’t want to diminish how others see you. You’re like a god on set. I don’t want the fact that a lowly assistant costume designer has dragged you down in any way.” She turns her head and faces the passenger side window.

All of my insecurities evaporate. Her main concern is forme. She’s worried about what others will think ofmefor being with her. My whole body relaxes. “Goldie, the factyouchose to be withmewill make me the envy of everyone on set.”

Her head whips around to me. “You’re wrong. Believe me.”

“I don’t.” I’d reach out and grab her hand, but I need to keep my concentration on the road and both hands on the wheel. Another bus honks, and I pull over to the side. The road is so narrow, and we’re on such a tight swerve, that he can’t make it without backing up a few times. When we stop, I take advantage of this break and face her.

“Listen to me. I’m damn proud you chose me. You’re sweet, talented, funny, and I’ve seen everyone from cast to crew giving you speculative looks. Eager looks.” I push her long locks away from her face, which I asked her to wear down until we get to the set. “But you chose me.”

“Charles.” She breathes my name a split-second before her lips land on mine.

The rumbling of the bus as it passes breaks us apart. “God, you’re wonderful.” With effort, I turn away from her and resume our drive back to Amalfi.

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