Page 33 of Lights, Camera, Love

Blood pounds in my ears as I race into the foyer and frantically push the lift button over and over again.

Despite my having made a few friends on the set of Moving , the only person who chases after me is Kiara.

Whether or not the people in the ballroom agree with what I just said to Buzz, I wasn’t exactly polite about it, and they’re still on the payroll for his production.

In this industry, one job leads to the next, and I’ve learned that most people will do anything to avoid unemployment, even if it means pandering to a foulmouthed tyrant like Buzz.

Meanwhile, I’ll probably never work on a film set again, at least not in Australia. For all I know, my little outburst—minus the behaviour that provoked it—was caught on someone’s phone and will be all over the internet tomorrow for Gabriel Dean to stumble upon and have a good laugh at.

My eyes fill up with tears, and Kiara slips an arm around my shoulder.

‘Thank you,’ I say, giving the back of her hand a pat. ‘I’ll be okay. I think I’m just going to go to bed and try to sleep before I get the call from my agent tomorrow telling me I’m fired.’

‘You’re not going to get fired,’ Kiara assures me, which is sweet because that decision isn’t hers to make. ‘What Buzz said to you …’ Her voice trails off like she can’t even repeat it.

The lift arrives, and I ask if she would be willing to go back to the party to assess the extent of the damage, and report back to me so I know what to expect.

Kiara nods and blows me a kiss, her eyes round with concern. I press the number for my floor and fish my phone from my purse, hoping it’s not too late to ring Rafael. Before I can even check the time, the lift doors start to close, and a tall figure smelling of expensive men’s soap pushes inside.

‘ Kye ,’ I warn. My voice is shaky, unsure what it even wants to say.

‘I just want to know if you’re okay,’ he says as I slip my phone back into my purse.

‘You’re about five days too late for that.’

My tone feels harsh. I could’ve reached out to Kye this past week, too, but—call me optimistic—I wanted someone I care about to come after me for once.

The lift begins moving, and Kye stuffs his hands into his trouser pockets and sighs. ‘I’m sorry.’ When I don’t respond, he adds, ‘That was so brave what you did in there, Evie. I’m so fucking in awe of you.’

A twinge of longing twists through my heart.

It’s just words.

I still don’t even know if Kye is the reason why every newspaper and magazine in the country is overflowing with articles outing me as the unloved daughter of one of the world’s most famous men.

I was only halfway through confronting him over it when I decided it was a better idea to kiss his face off. Shame on you, Evie Scott!

The lift opens on my floor, and I step forward and thrust out a hand to stop the doors from closing.

Kye stays rooted to the spot, leaning against the lift’s mirrored wall in his perfectly tailored navy suit and boysenberry-coloured tie.

He’s so infuriatingly handsome that I have to look away, lest I do something foolish like throw myself at him again. Shame, shame, shame.

‘Come on,’ I mutter with a huff, and he lurches out of the lift just before the doors force themselves shut.

Inviting Kye into my hotel suite was not on my agenda for tonight—it feels especially dangerous when he looks like a birthday present that’s waiting to be unwrapped—but he and I have to get a few things clear, and I hardly want to do that in a hotel corridor.

‘Just come in, and we’ll talk .’ I emphasise the final word to make sure he doesn’t mistake my intentions, then I slide my room key into the slot and push the heavy door open.

Shrugging off his jacket, he tentatively trails me into the sparkling new suite. My skin tingles at the awareness of his presence right behind me.

The stark silence of the hotel room is like a serrated knife on my frazzled nerves, so I reach for my portable speaker and pair it with my phone.

‘Never leave home without it?’ Kye jokes about the speaker, which I also had with me at the farm where we filmed.

‘My phone, my keys and my Mary J. Blige,’ I quip back. ‘R I never did. He and I were never in a real relationship. This isn’t a betrayal. ’

‘You’re right.’

For what feels like an eternity, we silently hold each other’s gazes. It feels as if neither one of us is standing on solid ground right now, but before I can even try to steady myself, there’s a question I need to ask again.

‘Did you tell him who my father is?’ I say in a whisper.

‘No.’ Frustration climbs into Kye’s eyes. ‘I already told you I didn’t. It was his ex-wife, who’s trying to find answers about why her marriage ended, and for some fucked up reason, that seems to mean digging up shit about people he’s involved with.’

Doubt gnaws at me as he speaks. ‘How am I supposed to believe that?’ I say, my chest tight. ‘You are so deeply lodged under Austin’s thumb that … I don’t know. How can I possibly believe you chose to keep something like that from him?’

‘You can believe it because it’s what I’m telling you. If there’s one thing you know about me, Evie, it’s that I say it like it is.’

I hold up my hands. ‘Fine. I guess I’ll just have to believe you.’

‘Well, don’t put yourself out if it’s that hard to do,’ he mutters back.

I heave a sigh as I lower my eyes to my nude-coloured heels, and we end up in another stand-off of tense silence.

‘Why didn’t Austin come tonight?’ I finally ask, wondering if it had anything to do with what happened at the showcase.

Kye palms the back of his neck. ‘I don’t want to talk about Austin. I’m sick of that fucking name.’

‘Okay.’ I chew the inside of my cheek. Having Kye in this suite with me, alone—his beautiful face, his intoxicating scent, his all-consuming presence—it’s starting to feel like torture.

His voice turns soft. ‘I want to know how you’re feeling after what just happened with Buzz.’

‘Oh god, talk about being sick of someone’s name.’

His inky-brown eyes bleed into mine. ‘Like I said, I’m awestruck. It was one of the most incredible and inspiring things I’ve ever seen anyone do.’

Heat whips over my cheeks. ‘I was rude and insulting.’

‘He was worse . And he deserved every bit of it.’ Kye takes a step closer, the warmth of his body igniting the air between us like a struck match.

‘Make no mistake, Evie. Rude and insulting was what that narcissist needed. Don’t forget, I also grabbed his face and called him a piece of shit, and I don’t regret doing either of those things for a second. ’

I say nothing; I’m still anxious over the blowout.

Kye finds my eyes with his. ‘Can I show you something?’

‘Sure.’

He moves over to the chair where his jacket is hanging, pulls out his phone, and thumbs through it. When he holds up the screen, my gaze narrows at the video of Buzz pointing aggressively in my face, ranting those horrific words while swaying on his feet.

‘You filmed it?’ I say with a gasp.

Kye nods, and I turn my focus back to the video. By the time it gets to me calling Buzz out, my words don’t seem so out of line after all.

‘If it’s okay with you,’ Kye says, ‘I’d like to take the recording into Village Pictures first thing Monday.’

My fingers fly to my mouth. ‘But … what if they fire me? What if the video ends up on the internet?’