Page 11 of Love At First Fright

There was something about Jenna that was so genuine and whip-smart, so immediately disarming, that Rosemary couldn’t help but smile. Despite the age gap between them, she could understand what Ellis saw in her.

“What kind of script?” Rosemary asked, as the waiters brought round a tray of prosecco flutes and placed one before her.

“A rom-com. It’s about a dom who is opening a sex dungeon and the health and safety inspector he hires to make sure everything is up to code. The working title is Choking Hazard. ”

Ellis coughed into his prosecco, catching Rosemary’s eyes for the briefest moment. There was something unreadable there.

“Well, you’re off to a great start with that title.” Rosemary smiled at Jenna, who leant back in her chair, looking utterly pleased with herself.

The starter was served, a small bowl of pumpkin and fennel soup and a slim slice of walnut and rye loaf. As they ate, Rosemary hoped someone else would join the conversation, but everyone around them was caught up in their own chats.

“So how long have you two been together?” Rosemary asked, trying to find anything to end this agonisingly awkward silence.

“Two days,” Ellis muttered, at the exact same time that Jenna said, “A few weeks.”

“I…see,” Rosemary replied, as tactfully as she could.

Why had Ellis said that? Was it a joke? And if it was such a new relationship, shouldn’t they be at the stage of fawning all over each other?

If she were in a relationship with someone like Ellis—and in this daydream she actually liked his personality—she wouldn’t have wanted to put clothes on for at least the first two weeks.

“It’s new,” Jenna said finally, but Rosemary didn’t miss the way she elbowed Ellis. “We met through a mutual friend and just hit it off.”

“That’s lovely.”

“What about you, Rosemary? I find it hard to believe you’re single,” Jenna said, taking a dainty slurp of soup.

“That’s very sweet of you to say. But no, I’m single. You know how the saying goes, the only good people are fictional, and all that.”

Jenna nodded sagely, and Rosemary wished that Ellis would stop looking at her like that.

What did he mean with that expression? Was he pitying her?

She didn’t need his pity. Being single was a choice, and she would remain so until she found someone she actually enjoyed spending time with, that’s all there was to it.

“I can’t imagine any of the fictional people you’re writing quite hit the mark, though,” Ellis said, clearly deciding they weren’t done with this excruciatingly awkward topic of conversation.

“Why’s that?” Jenna asked.

“Because I only write horror books. Everyone is either possessed, is murdered horribly, or transforms into some kind of unholy monstrosity by the end. Not exactly romance material.”

“I don’t know, have you ever heard of monster romance?” Jenna said. Rosemary decided that she and Jenna were going to get on famously.

Thankfully, Rosemary’s neighbour, a woman named Cathy who worked for the studio, decided to pull her into a conversation about adapting novels for screen, and she didn’t need to speak to Ellis for the next course.

It was a good thing the servings weren’t too big, because Rosemary had needed room for this dessert.

A decadent dark chocolate and salted caramel torte, garnished with an orange rind. She was in dessert heaven and never wanted to leave. She may have even let out a little whimper of pleasure with the first bite; hopefully it was quiet enough that no one heard her.

The guests dispersed to the hotel bar shortly after dessert was taken away by the small army of serving staff, and Rosemary decided that she was done with dealing with people for the night.

Jenna had ended up in an energetic discussion with Vincent about how Nora Ephron was the greatest director in movie history, and in the haste of saying good night to a variety of people she had lost track of Ellis.

Thank god, she didn’t want to deal with him again tonight.

Rosemary thought about heading back to her room, but as she stepped out into the foyer, she’d noticed a brass-plated sign for The Snug, followed by an arrow pointing down a lamplit corridor.

Jeremy’s laughter and clomping footsteps echoed behind her, and Rosemary hastened to the Snug—her evening would be better if she didn’t have to interact with him.

Rosemary went inside, pulling the door shut behind her, breathing heavily in her escape from Jeremy. The room was, as the name suggested, snug and cosy, and was only lit by a couple of table lamps and a crackling applewood fire.

For a brief moment, finally alone, she let out a tired exhale.

“Escaping the after-party at the bar, were we?” came a low voice from her right, making Rosemary jump. Ellis Finch, glass of scotch in hand, was reclining in a deep armchair before the fire with a dark expression. Probably because she had interrupted his moody drinking time.

Ellis looked for all the world like the broody lord of the manor, ready to sweep na?ve maidens off their feet. Thankfully, Rosemary was no maiden.

“I wasn’t escaping.”

“No? You just run into rooms and sigh loudly against door frames all the time then?”

“I didn’t sigh.”

He took a slow sip of his drink. “Sure.”

“I just heard Jeremy and his cronies in the hall,” she admitted, waving her hand in the direction of the foyer. “I’m not interested in dealing with him tonight. Or existing in that world.”

“But you are in that world now. Or you will be, when the film comes out.” Ellis had risen from his chair and was walking slowly towards her. The bubbles from the prosecco earlier were dancing around in her belly.

“Maybe a little more, but I’ll never be like you. And that’s fine by me.”

“Alright for some. Enjoy your privacy while it lasts.” Ellis smirked, and took a deep drink.

“Why aren’t you out there? What’s your excuse? It’s not very gentlemanly to leave your girlfriend alone at a party.”

Ellis offered her a seething glare over the rim of his glass. “Maybe I’m not a gentleman. Maybe I like my privacy, too, what little I get of it. Jenna doesn’t need an old man like me anyway.”

Old man? Who was this guy kidding?

Rosemary snorted. “Please, you’re barely pushing forty. Name another old man who spends half his time topless and slicked in baby oil for the camera.”

It dawned on her, from the smug grin on his face, that she had just paid him a compliment.

“You’ve watched my movies.” Ellis stepped closer and, by some strange gravitational pull, Rosemary didn’t back away.

“Not intentionally. They’re everywhere, it’s just cultural osmosis. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Too late. I feel extremely flattered. I’m buckling under the weight of it.”

This time, she felt a smile creep onto her face. Ellis finished his drink, placing the glass down on the table.

“The coast is probably clear now, if you want to head back to your room, Rosemary.”

He had to stop saying her name like that, all deep and velvety.

“I was thinking about staying in here actually, maybe read one of the newspapers.”

“And it won’t bother you if I stay and do the same? Maybe we can compare notes on the reviews sections.”

“Be my guest,” Rosemary replied through gritted teeth.

Ellis chuckled, his hand coming to rest on the doorknob behind her, lightly grazing Rosemary’s forearm. His touch was warm. “You really don’t like me, do you?” he asked.

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, I have eyes. And ears.”

“It’s not personal, Ellis.”

“It feels rather personal, Rosemary,” he shot back.

“You’re just not how I imagined Alfred would look.”

“What’s wrong with me?”

“You’re not the right…shape,” she said lamely.

“Shape? What shape should I be?”

Less damn broad, Rosemary nearly admitted.

“You should be skinnier. You’re too…tall. Alfred is meant to be a feeble Victorian.”

“I’m not too tall,” he huffed, stepping closer, “you just lack imagination. You’re stuck with me, Rosemary, whether you like it or not.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Rosemary was vaguely aware that she was firmly pressed up against the door, and Ellis was close enough that she felt his breath on her face when he spoke.

His woodsy scent filled her senses, his figure blocking out the firelight.

The near-darkness, the heat of him…it was enough to make a woman think things she shouldn’t be.

Rosemary hoped he couldn’t hear the sound of her heart attempting to thump its way out of her chest.

“I’d like to go to bed now, Rosemary,” Ellis said, tipping his face down to meet her eyes. Sweat prickled on the back of her neck, her palms. The last thing she needed right now was to picture Ellis Finch in his bed.

“Go to bed then.”

He chuckled, low and deep and oddly seductive.

“You’re blocking my way.”

Shit. She’d been standing against the door and all Ellis wanted was to get out of there, away from her. His hand had even been resting on the doorknob this whole time. Rosemary launched off the door sideways, utterly mortified.

“Of course, sorry. You’ll be wanting to go and catch up with Jenna.”

Ellis blinked. “Jenna, yeah. Well, good night, Rosemary, I hope the killer mermaids don’t give you nightmares.”

As he stalked out of the room, Rosemary noticed a small dog hurrying by his heels that she hadn’t spotted before. Its fur glistened silver, and where it caught the light of the fire, Rosemary realised it was translucent.

She felt a brief pang of sadness for Ellis underneath all her dislike for him; she didn’t usually see animal ghosts, and when she did, it was often dogs or cats that had been taken from their owners too soon, and who weren’t ready to leave them. The love between a pet and their owner endured.

Rosemary spent all night tossing and turning, and it wasn’t the jet lag or the killer mermaids that were to blame.

In the early-dawn hours, she’d been pulled from a dream where Ellis issued soft commands in her ear, ones that she was more than willing to do.

She woke up slick between her thighs, and entirely discombobulated.

Rosemary packed in a hurry—her taxi leaving for Hallowvale was in less than an hour—and as she exited her room, she nearly tripped on a brand-new copy of her killer mermaid book lying outside her door. Interesting.