With His Consent (For His Pleasure, Book 13) (4 page)

Scarlett was panicking. How could she stop this girl from ruining everything for Kallie?

“I don’t think you should do that. I don’t think you should say anything, Lydia.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m asking you not to. As a friend.”

Lydia’s eyes lit up with new interest. “You’re asking me as a friend?”

“Yes,” Scarlett replied, trying to appear confident.

“But we hardly know one another.”

“Well, I want to change that.”

“I don’t know if I can believe you.”

“Give me a chance to prove myself.”

Lydia looked down at the contract. “And what should I do with this?”

Scarlett held out her hand and stepped closer. “Give it to me. I’ll pretend I found it and give it back to her. It’ll be our secret.”

Lydia looked up and pulled the contract close to her chest, her eyes narrowing.

“You’re just telling me what I want to hear.”

“No, I wouldn’t do that.”

Suddenly, Lydia acquired a triumphant expression. “If I do this, then you’re going to invite me around Dale Nolan and Eliza Johnston and all the cool movie people that you’re hanging out with. I want to be included in everything.”

“Of course,” Scarlett said, meeting her gaze.

“I mean it. Everything.”

Scarlett put out her hand again. “Anytime you want, just give me a call and if I can possibly make it happen, I will.”

Lydia took her phone from her purse as her other hand gripped the contract tightly. “What’s your phone number?” she demanded.

Scarlett recited it, hating that she had to do this, but knowing she owed Kallie and Hunter too much to leave them at Lydia’s mercy. When she was done telling Lydia her phone number, she again moved closer.

Lydia grudgingly gave her the contract. “It’s yours.” But then she looked slyly at her through half-lidded eyes. “But if you go back on your promise, I’ll tell everyone our secret.”

“That won’t happen.” Scarlett folded the contract in half without even glancing at it.

Lydia’s face transformed into that of an innocent angel. “Oh, I’m so glad we’re friends, Scarlett. And maybe one day you and Kallie and I will all be best friends together.”

“That would be wonderful.” Scarlett flashed the girl a big, fake smile. “Now let me go out ahead of you so that I can tell her I found this. Okay?”

“Okay.” Lydia winked and giggled. “See you in a minute, bestie.”

“Yeah, see you in a minute.”

Scarlett breathed a deep sigh of relief as she ran out of the bathroom, looking for Kallie. Kallie was still on the phone, in a side hallway off the main restaurant area, deep in conversation.

Scarlett walked up and tapped her on the shoulder. Kallie spun around, put up a finger, indicating that she was almost off. “Yeah. I do understand, Max.” She nodded a few times and rolled her eyes.

Scarlett could hear Max Weisman’s booming voice yelling through the receiver, although she couldn’t tell exactly what he was saying.

“Okay. I’ll pass your comments along to everyone. Will do.” She nodded one last time. “Bye, Max.” Then she hung up and threw her head back. “That man is infuriating.”

“Hey, Kallie—”

“He’s upset about Bryson, says Bryson’s way behind on everything.”

Now Scarlett was worried enough to temporarily forget why she’d come out here in the first place. “Behind on what exactly?”

“He says Bryson still hasn’t scouted the major locations, like the hotel or the coffee shop or…well, pretty much anything. And there are major rewrites due like…yesterday.”

“I had no idea. He doesn’t tell me anything,” Scarlett said.

“Well, you need to explain to him that if he drops the ball even one more time, it’s going to be over. We can’t protect him much longer, not after what happened between him and Dale last night.”

“Okay. I understand. I’ll talk to him.”

Kallie looked down at the contract folded up in Scarlett’s hand. “What’s that?”

“Oh. Um, you must have dropped this when you were in the bathroom.” Scarlett gave her the paper and noticed how Kallie’s eyes widened.

“Did you read this?” Kallie asked, her voice hard.

“No, of course not,” Scarlett said, which technically was true.

Kallie looked closely at her. “You obviously know. Did—oh my God—please tell me that Lydia didn’t see it.” The look of panic on Kallie’s face was almost heartbreaking.

“No,” Scarlett said, hoping her voice sounded convincing. “Lydia didn’t see it.”

“But you know. You obviously know--it’s all over your face, Scarlett.”

“Kallie, I don’t care. It’s none of my business.”

Kallie shoved the paper back into her purse. “I forgot I still even had that. Just promise me you won’t breathe a word of that to anyone. It’s personal and embarrassing and, besides, Hunter and I aren’t even really like that anymore.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Scarlett said, with a grin.

Kallie laughed. “Okay, okay. Thanks for being so great.”

The two of them walked back to the table together. Scarlett sat down, trying not to look directly at Lydia, who was desperately trying to make eye contact with her.

She wondered if there was even a chance she could control a loose cannon like Lydia, who could go off at anytime and ruin everything.

Just placate her. Make her feel liked and special.

So now I’m her hostage, Scarlett thought. I’m going to be in her debt and she’s never going to stop trying to hold this over my head.

It wasn’t ideal. Scarlett just hoped that when it was all said and done, Kallie didn’t hate her for this.

***

Bryson met her at Grand Central Station later that afternoon. He was carrying a tray with two Starbucks coffee cups and wearing jeans, a sweater, and his trademark grin.

The dark circles under his eyes betrayed the fact that he was fairly exhausted. He hoisted at the computer bag slung over his shoulder. “Thanks for coming,” he said, right away.

Scarlett shrugged. “It’s my job.”

“I got you a coffee,” he said, handing her one of the cups. As his fingertips brushed hers, she got a deep chill down her spine.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she told him.

He smiled. “I at least owe you a coffee after all the shit I’ve put you through.

Here. I didn’t know how you took it so I brought a choice of sugar and sugar substitutes.” He dug into his pocket and put three creamers and some packets in her hand.

She felt her cheeks flame. It was sweet of him to think of her—romantic even.

Of course, she knew it wasn’t actually romantic, because he was doing it as a kind of peace offering.

When she’d called him and passed along the warning that Max had delivered to Kallie, Bryson had instantly said that he was going to scout a location that evening in Connecticut. And of course, Scarlett had offered to come with him and help.

So this was Bryson’s way of showing appreciation for her efforts.

It was touching, they way he’d thought of her and even gone so far as to get different kinds of sugar and Splenda and Sweet ‘n Low just in case.

Scarlett took off the top of her coffee and poured the Splenda and creamer into it.

Bryson watched. “So you’re a Splenda girl.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll file that away for future reference.”

She put the top back on her coffee and started to walk toward the train that had just pulled into the station, taking a long sip of the hot liquid as she went. It tasted dark and sweet, and warmed her as it went down.

“So how was lunch with Hunter and Kallie?” Bryson asked.

Surprisingly, Scarlett wanted to tell him how it was. The whole thing, even the part about the contract that Lydia had found. It would be nice to share with someone, to get someone else’s opinion on how she’d handled that particular situation.

But it was impossible for numerous reasons, not the least of which was the fact that it would open up a whole can of worms about BDSM. And then she might have to explain to him that she’d once had a relationship with Hunter.

So for all of those reasons and more, Scarlett just gave a little shrug. “Lunch was okay,” she said.

“Did they spend the whole time bitching about what a bad job I’m doing?”

“Hardly.”

They boarded the train and sat down next to one another at the back of one of the cars. Bryson allowed Scarlett to sit next to the window and he took the aisle seat. It was very close quarters, and she couldn’t help but notice how she got a secret little thrill every time his leg touched hers.

She knew this was just a phase, a little crush that would run its course in due time.

Still, it was disconcerting because she wasn’t expecting it.

The train started moving, and Scarlett pushed the thoughts out of her head. She needed to focus on the task at hand. They were going out to Stamford, Connecticut—

apparently, Bryson had talked to the owner of a hotel in that area who’d agreed to let them use his establishment for the film.

Scarlett pulled out her notebook and pen. “We should probably discuss the plan.”

“What plan?” Bryson said, sipping his coffee. His tone seemed to indicate that plans in any capacity were ridiculous.

“Well, what you’re looking for in terms of setting—what are the considerations to determine if you want to use it or not in the film?”

He ran a hand through his already tousled hair, then shrugged. “I’ll just know it when I see it. I have a mental picture in my head of what I’m looking for.”

“Okay.” She tapped her pen against her notebook and tried to choose her next words carefully. “But there must be some defined qualities, things that we can write down to help come to a decision.”

“Not really. I’ll just take a look around, have a chat with the owner. I’m feeling really good about it.”

“Okay. Um, is there a backup locale?”

He shook his head. “No backup. This one’s going to work.”

Scarlett sighed. “Why am I here if you never want my help?”

“You’re here because I value your opinion and your company,” he said. “But I don’t need your opinion on every single task.”

“It just feels like you never want to give me any responsibility or information.

We’re supposed to be planning this together.”

Bryson shifted on seat next to her. “No,” he said. “We’re not supposed to be planning it together. You’re my assistant. You’re supposed to be assisting me. And right now you can assist me in my belief that this place is going to work.”

“Forget it.” She closed her notebook and tried to shove it back in her purse, but Bryson reached out, quick as a cat, and grabbed the notebook. She held it in her hand and pulled back, but he was much stronger than her. They stayed like that for a long moment, eyes locked on each other, the notebook between them. The side of his mouth pulled up into a grin, and he raised his eyebrows, challenging her.

A shiver ran down her spine. She had the feeling he was the kind of man who was used to getting what he wanted, especially from women. She held her ground though, not letting the notebook go, even though if he’d wanted to, he could have easily pulled it from her grasp.

Finally, he let go, an amused smile playing on his lips. He’d let her win this one.

But something told her it had still been on his terms.

“Look,” he said. “I’m trying my best. This isn’t normally how I do things.”

“You mean, you’re normally completely disorganized and scatterbrained?”

He gave her a sidelong glance. “Yes.”

“Well I like to be organized. But you’re not letting me be.”

“Okay. Fine, I give up. Let’s get organized,” he said. He was still looking at her with that amused grin, almost like he found her funny and wanted to indulge her childish fantasy of playing assistant to the big shot movie director.

Reluctantly, Scarlett pulled out her notebook and began to write. And to her delight and surprise, Bryson began talking. First, his words came slowly. But soon he was getting excited and the words came faster. Scarlett could hardly keep up. He went through all of his thoughts about the location that they were going to be scouting, a moody hotel filled with gaudy wallpaper and canopy beds. Scarlett was impressed to find that Bryson was actually very detail-oriented and had a real vision about what he was looking for.

After about half an hour, they had captured most everything in her notebook, and so Scarlett closed it and put it away.

A lot of people had already gotten off at various stops along the way, and the car was now quiet — and you could hear was the sound of the train on the tracks, and the clacking and shaking as it went.

Bryson opened up his computer bag and pulled out his laptop. “I need to work on these rewrites,” he said, his expression betraying real concern now.

“What was Max talking about anyway?” Scarlett asked. “Why is he upset about your rewrites?”

“Because he’s an asshole,” Bryson said. “At first, all anyone said was how amazing my script was, and then in the last week it’s been like one set of notes after another. I’ve got pages and pages of suggestions and questions.”

“I’m sure whatever you write is going to be amazing,” Scarlett said. She was flattered that Bryson felt comfortable enough to admit that to her.

“Have you even read the script?”

She blushed. “Well, no, I haven’t.”

He smiled at her. “I’ll give you a copy later—there’s a spare in my bag. You need to read it and know it by heart.”

“Of course. I can start right away.”

“You’ve done enough work for now. Just relax and enjoy the ride.”

Outside the window, houses and streets and buildings went by in a blur.

Bryson began typing away at his computer and Scarlett let him attend to his work, realizing just how much pressure he must be under with everything that had gone on up to this point.

It occurred to her that he’d never complained about all of the distractions that he had to deal with—Hunter being shot, Max wanting Bryson off the film, moving to New York and being forced to learn the ropes almost entirely on his own, getting into a confrontation with his leading actor.

Bryson was being tested and he was under tremendous scrutiny for every little move he made. No wonder he wanted to try and control every detail. These little details were the only things he
could
control.