Page 30 of Love At First Fright

H alf a day and evening had passed since her mortifying conversation with Ellis, and she was trudging, flashlight in hand, through mossy undergrowth and moonlit woodland, to find the glade where they had set up filming for the night.

Unprofessional? That asshole. She should have known that it was too good to be true. She couldn’t have just found a super-hot person, who happened to be single and interested in her, who was also dominant in the bedroom and have things go her way? Oh no, that would have been too easy.

She’d wanted to shout at him, maybe throw a tea towel at him, but when she looked back into the kitchen after fleeing, Ellis had been slumped in a chair, the ghost dog pawing at his legs, trying to comfort his owner.

Rosemary had felt the sudden urge to go back in there and comfort him, too, but he’d made it clear he didn’t want her.

As she approached the set, she heard Jeremy laughing a little too hard at a joke from whomever he was on the phone with.

Likely the studio. That’s all he ever seemed to be doing.

After the conversation with Ellis, and trying to figure out what to do about his ghost dog, all wrapped up in the mess of her needing to finish her book draft, Rosemary was decidedly not in the mood for Jeremy’s bullshit.

They were setting up a take, Vincent directing Ellis as he jumped up and down on the spot, shrugging off the cold.

Rosemary definitely didn’t look at Ellis; she didn’t even turn her head in his direction.

She’d have to speak to him eventually, but the brief sight of him in that billowing Victorian shirt again had her mind and body in a mortifying mix of confusion and arousal.

Jeremy clapped his hands to gather everyone’s attention. “I’ve just come off a call with the studio, and they suggested it might look good if we add in a moment where Ellis fights with one of the ghosts?”

Vincent frowned, tapping a pen against his bottom lip. “It could work…adds more action, certainly.”

But it didn’t make sense. It went against not just the lore of her book, but the lore they’d already created in the movie.

On another night, Rosemary might have remained silent. Not tonight.

“That won’t work,” she piped up. “It’s already established in the scenes we’ve shot that the ghosts’ power weakens when they are further away from the house. They wouldn’t be able to fight at this distance.”

Jeremy faced her, scorn written plain on his face. He held his hands together like some catalogue male model, gesturing for her to calm down. It made her seethe.

“Listen, sweetheart, we all appreciate your enthusiasm. But we both know that you’re out of your depth here, so please leave the direction to the professionals.”

Rosemary considered punching him or shouting, but she knew what happened to difficult women in the workplace…they were never invited back to said workplace. Instead, she took in a deep, steadying breath through her nose, reminding herself exactly who the fuck she was.

“Jeremy, sweetheart, ” she said, with all the fake Southern charm she could muster.

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten that I not only wrote the book, but also the script.

I appreciate you having your important phone calls and passing that information on.

It’s good that the studio execs have a messenger like you.

But you’re not the only one with contacts.

I could also ring up my film agents. And I’m sure they would be very interested to hear about the manner in which you’ve been passing on their feedback. ”

“Perhaps I’ll call up Lucinda, too. She’s your line manager, if I remember correctly?” Ellis stepped forwards. She didn’t need his help, but was perversely pleased at the feel of him standing beside her, backing her up.

Jeremy held up his hands. “There’s no need to bother Lucinda with this.”

“We’ll see. And I agree with Rosemary, it makes no sense to have a fight scene here, we should stick with the scene as planned. Don’t you agree, Vincent?”

Vincent, who had been tapping away furiously on his phone, looked up. “What? Oh, yes, sure. Continue as originally planned, thanks.” Vincent’s personal phone buzzed then, and he shouted, “Take five while I get this, everyone, it’s my partner.”

Ellis clapped his hands together. “Well, that’s sorted.”

Rosemary watched Jeremy stalk away, angrily pulling out his vape as he left. Her hands were shaking. But she’d stood up for herself, and she was proud.

She hadn’t needed Ellis’s help, but he’d helped anyway. Despite what he’d said this morning.

“Rosemary, can we talk?” Ellis said from close behind her.

She turned, and the expression on his face stilled her and set her alight, all at once.

This was not the same man she’d been dismissed by in the kitchen earlier.

This was that Ellis, the true one, the one who had devoured her with his kiss, who had talked her through an orgasm over the phone.

It made her insides swoop just to look up at him like this.

“What do you want, Ellis?” Rosemary stammered.

“I want to talk to you.”

“Okay then, shoot,” she bit back. Rosemary wasn’t a brat. Except tonight, she wanted to make Ellis pay for upsetting her, for dismissing her, all of it. He couldn’t tell her what they did was unprofessional and then still want more. Acting like this, it would drive him crazy.

“In private,” he ground out.

“We’re professionals, Ellis. Don’t you remember?”

“Give me two minutes, Rosemary.”

She rolled her eyes but nodded, and Ellis grabbed her wrist, pulling her towards the darkness of the forest. It shouldn’t have turned her on as much as it did, the firm grip of his hands on her.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere quiet” was all he said.

They stomped over tree roots and ducked under low-hanging branches, until the sound of the film set grew faint and they were only lit by the slivers of moonlight that dappled through the trees.

“I saw a place earlier, just up here,” Ellis said.

He tugged her into a clearing, and there, moss-shrouded and abandoned by time, were the chapel ruins that Cecilia had told her about.

The roof had been reduced to three weathered beams, the inside bare except for a stone altar and a few stone bench pews.

A single arched window, that once would have contained stained glass, allowed Rosemary to see inside—it was empty.

“I thought you might like this place, it feels sufficiently spooky,” Ellis said, his hand moving down her wrist to hold her hand. She should have pulled away, but didn’t.

“Is this all a game to you?” she asked. “Dismissing me this morning, telling me you don’t want any of this, that you don’t want me, and then taking me here, showing me this place?”

His hands cupped her cheeks. “No, Rosemary. None of it was a game.”

“Then what? Why did you say it?”

“I was ashamed.”

Tears threatened to fall from her eyes. “Of me?”

“Never of you, love. Never. Of myself. Of what I want.”

“But I already told you, Ellis, I want it, too.”

“There are things about me, Rosemary, that I’m not proudof.”

“Have you ever hurt anyone?”

“No.”

“Killed, blackmailed, exploited, burgled?”

The smallest of smiles tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“No.”

“Then what?”

Ellis hesitated. “I can’t tell you. But I want to apologise for earlier, I should never have said those things to hurt you. I regretted it the moment I said it.”

It was the way he said it. Can’t. Rosemary realised he was telling the truth.

There was something here, something he’d done, or felt about himself, but it wasn’t to do with her, not really.

Whatever it was, it had clearly fucked Ellis up.

And she wanted to know, she wanted to help, but it was too soon for that.

“So, you don’t want to be professional with me?” Rosemary whispered, raising her hands to his chest. She felt his heart beginning to beat faster under her touch. She took a step backwards and Ellis followed, backing her against the cold stone walls.

“Quite the opposite.”

“Well, maybe I’ve changed my mind,” she drawled, beginning to twist out of his embrace. Maybe she did enjoy being a bit of a brat, after all, because the way Ellis’s hands clamped around her, pushing her back against the wall of the chapel, had her aching with need.

He growled roughly, pressing a hand to the wall by her head, blocking her exit. “Do you want to know what I did last night, after we got off the phone?” Ellis traced the slope of her neck, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. It was excruciatingly soft.

“What did you do?” Rosemary shivered.

“I fucked my hand in the shower, love. I thought about the sounds you made when you were filled up with that toy, and I wanted you to make them for me. I can’t stop thinking about you, and I don’t want to. I want this. I want us.”

Rosemary stuttered out a breath. She was on fire.

Ellis was watching her like he wanted to devour her, and she wanted to be devoured.

Tentatively, Rosemary unbuttoned her coat, and lifted her skirt up a little.

She’d put on these thigh-high tights this morning, back before that dreadful conversation with Ellis.

Now she thanked her past self for her outfit choices.

“Are you trying to kill me, love?” Ellis said, bending down and resting his forehead on hers.

“Tell me what to do, Ellis.”

He kissed her, bruising her lips with his. Rosemary wound her arms around him, slotting him against her. She wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anything. She needed the roughness of his touch, she wanted to be marked by him. Covered in him. It was making her delirious.

He lifted her skirt, bunching it with one fist.

“Give me your fingers, love.” Ellis sucked her fingers into his mouth, his hot tongue swirling against her.

“Now touch yourself for me,” he ordered. Rosemary was about to curve her hand around the seam of her underwear when Ellis’s phone began buzzing.