Page 45 of Catch Me (Townsend Legacy #4)

I vy

“What do you think of this one?” I hold up the off-white sparkly shirt for Lillian to inspect.

We’re in a clothing store way across town from the studio, hunting down styles for an upcoming project. While most of the costumes have been designed, Lillian and I got a special assignment to pick up a few items from the store.

Lillian takes her time, peering over the brim of her glasses to inspect the shirt. My heart sinks a little when she frowns.

“The hole would be a challenge to fix.” She points to the small hole just beneath the armpit. “Most of the time it could be hidden, but my concern is the wear and tear this project will have on the shirt. This material doesn’t hold up very well.”

I inspect the shirt and conclude the same thing.

“It’s beautiful though.” A remorseful note hits my tone.

“You should buy it for yourself,” she suggests. “I bet it would look great on you.”

“I couldn’t,” I protest though I keep my eyes on the shirt. I’m already envisioning the pair of black, shiny leggings that would look fantastic with this shirt. Especially if I paired it with the knee-high, six-inch boots I recently purchased.

Andreas would go crazy.

“Ha! It’s written all over your face.” Lillian points and laughs. “You’re getting the damn shirt.” She snatches it from me and heads toward the register, leaving me to follow her.

I go to protest again but my phone rings. “It’s Rebecca,” I tell Lillian . “She probably wants to know what’s taking us so long.”

“Kindly remind her she’s the one who sent us on this errand during rush hour traffic. She’s lucky if we make it back before lunch,” Lillian scoffs.

I chuckle right before answering.

“Rebecca, we’re about to check out right now. We found a couple of extra items that will go well for the Queen’s Betrayal set,” I tell her, naming another studio project that will start filming in a couple of weeks.

“I need to see you in my office,” Rebecca responds.

“Oh, okay. Well, it may take us a while to get back.”

“Make it quick. This is urgent,” she says before disconnecting the call.

“What did she say?” Lillian ’s question startles me out of staring at my blank phone screen.

“She wants to see me in her office.”

Lillian waves her hand as if that’s no big deal and then places the clothes we’ve chosen onto the counter. “She probably wants someone to run her lunch order or some other ridiculous errand.”

I laugh with Lillian but it’s hollow. The pit in my stomach tells me this is something more than a minor inconvenience from Rebecca.

As predicted, it takes us close to forty-five minutes to make it back to the studio. When we do, Lillian and I separate, and she heads into the set of the production we’re working on.

I take the long walk past the set trailers toward where the offices sit.

I send a few waves to some of the office assistants and other crew I’ve become familiar with over the past few months.

When I come to Rebecca’s door, it’s open. Still, I knock to get her attention.

She looks up at me from her desk and her face instantly turns cold.

That’s not a good sign.

“Ivy, come in and close the door.” She turns her rolling chair toward the large computer screen on her desk.

I do as she’s asked before taking a seat directly in front of her. “You wanted to see me?” I say, only because the cold silence that’s filled the room is making me uneasy. “Lillian and I were just about to do the prep work for tomorrow’s filming and?—”

“That won’t be necessary.” She types in her password, and the screen goes from her lockscreen to a large photo of Andreas standing unmistakably close to a woman … me.

There’s a devilish smile on his face as he leans close to my ear, saying something that has me grinning as well. The stance might have been easily explained away if it weren’t for Andreas’ hand on my hip, obviously inching its way underneath my shirt.

“Do you want to tell me what the hell this is?” Rebecca demands.

“It’s not …” I trail off because what’s the point of lying? It is what it looks like. “We were talking in this photo.” That’s the truth.

What happened after the photo was snapped requires a different explanation entirely. I remember that particular day very well. It was about a week or so before Late Nights completed filming.

Everyone was on our lunch break, and Andreas and I thought we had some privacy.

“Talking with his hand up your shirt? Right. Apparently, Andreas Knight is so taken over you that he’s attacking your exes in restaurants.”

“What?” I blurt out.

“Oh, you haven’t heard?”

She’s eager to pull up another site from a blog detailing Andreas’ assault on Dennis James. Not only that, but the conclusion the writer of the post draws is that Andreas hit Dennis because he was my ex.

“Do you know that because of you and this mess, this film’s reputation is in jeopardy?”

“That’s not true,” I insist, pointing at the computer screen. “I’ve never even met Dennis James. He harassed me online.”

Rebecca frowns. “He’s a popular influencer and podcaster. Why would he harass you for no reason?”

“Because he’s an asshole.”

Her face reddens as she rises to her feet.

“No, he’s not!”

I jut my head back. “Do you know him?” Her defense of him seems too personal.

Rebecca shakes her head. “This isn’t about me. This is about you and your personal life becoming a distraction to this film.”

My stomach muscles tighten.

“I’m not,” I say but it comes out weak and uncertain.

“From the looks of this picture, you enthusiastically participated in an intimate relationship with the lead actor of the film while working on the set of Late Nights . Something I warned you about.”

Her voice takes on a gleeful tone. She’s enjoying this.

“I—”

“And now that relationship is already bringing negative publicity to the film before its premiere.” She lifts an eyebrow.

“You’re a liability to this studio, Ivy. Now you have the right to date whomever you choose. And you can do it from the unemployment line.”

“What? I just made it past my probationary period,” I remind her.

“According to the timeline of this photo, you were seeing Andreas Knight during your probationary period, and if you’d read the conditions of your employment more closely, you would see that it is up to my discretion as to whether or not I want to keep you on as my assistant.”

“Rebecca,” I say in a pleading voice.

“You’re lucky I’m even giving you this courtesy of an explanation,” she continues as if I’d said nothing. “California is an at-will state and it’s not like you’re in a union or anything.”

Her sigh comes out as if she’s pleased with herself.

“Maybe if you had focused more on your actual job instead of trying to show me up, we could’ve avoided all of this happening.”

That’s the instant I realize none of this has anything to do with the appropriateness or lack thereof of my relationship with Andreas.

Rebecca doesn’t like me because she thinks I showed her up.

“Do me a favor and don’t forget any of your belongings on your way out. I would hate for someone to mistake something of yours as belonging to the studio and toss it in with the rest of the trash.”

“Fuck you,” I spit out, my anger getting the better of me.

“Honey, you’re not the first person to curse at me and you probably won’t be the last. Now, I suggest you leave before I call security to escort you off of the property.”

My vision blurs from the tears of rage, helplessness, and embarrassment. I force myself to unclench my fists, turn, and leave Rebecca’s office with my head held high.

I refuse to let that bitch see me cry.