Page 17 of Prelude of Love (Harmony of Hearts #6)

Chapter Ten

CHANCE

I’d never felt so nervous in my life, not even the time I accidentally shouted, “Thank you, Milwaukee,” to a sold-out crowd in Minneapolis. Back then, I had charmed my way out of it, but something told me it’d be harder now.

Duke stood at the back of the room as a silent observer while the crew set up lights and cameras around Hurly-burly’s stage area.

His steady presence should have been comforting, but it only added to my nerves.

It was one thing to fuck up in front of the professionals.

It was another thing to do it in front of the guy I desperately wanted to climb like a tree.

Tennyson gestured to the cinematographer, discussing angles and lighting with rapid-fire precision as they prepared to block the scene I was about to act out. “We need to capture the initial spark between them. That first look needs to sizzle through the screen.”

My mouth went dry. No pressure there.

The door opened, and Rook Warrick strode in as if he owned the place. Unlike me in my casual jeans and sweater combo, he wore a fitted henley that showed off his action-star physique. His presence commanded attention without trying.

At least pretending to fall for him wouldn’t require much acting. The man was walking sex appeal with a dash of danger. But his confident ease only emphasized my amateur status.

Rook’s dark hair was artfully tousled, as if he’d stepped off a magazine cover rather than walked in off the street.

He moved with the natural grace of someone who’d spent years doing his own stunts, with each step purposeful and controlled.

A hint of his spicy cologne drifted my way, woodsy with citrus notes.

“Ready to run through the scene?” His deep voice held none of the gruffness I loved in Duke’s. Where Duke’s presence filled a room with an untamed wildness that made me want to spread my legs for him, Rook’s magnetism was more polished and made me want to do a good job for him.

I shifted my weight, hyperaware of my inexperience next to his seasoned professionalism. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

His blue eyes assessed me with the practiced eye of someone who’d been in the industry for years. “You’ve got good instincts,” he said, rolling up his sleeves to reveal forearms corded with muscle. “Remember to trust them, and you’ll be fine.”

Even his reassurance carried the weight of expertise.

Where Duke’s gruff encouragement made me feel ten feet tall, Rook’s professional validation somehow highlighted the gap between us.

Both men were built like brick houses, but Duke wore his strength like a second skin, natural and unpretentious.

Rook’s physique was a carefully crafted tool of his trade, every muscle defined for maximum camera appeal.

“Thanks,” I managed, trying not to fidget under Rook’s steady gaze. “I promise not to tank your big romantic-comedy debut.”

“You’ll be fine,” he reassured me, which was a greater kindness than I expected from someone as professional as him.

“Places, everyone,” Tennyson called out. “Chance, Rook, come here.”

We gathered around him as he outlined the scene.

“This is Cade and Grady’s first meeting.

Cade’s here to check out the venue before open mic night.

There needs to be an immediate attraction, but Grady’s confused by it since he’s never been attracted to a man before.

I want tension, curiosity, and that delicious uncertainty of new possibilities. Got it?”

Rook nodded, already sliding into character. I tried to mirror his professionalism, but my hands trembled.

“Let’s run it,” Tennyson said, stepping back. “And…action.”

I walked toward the bar, trying to channel Cade’s easy confidence. But with every step, I grew more aware of the cameras, the crew, Tennyson’s critical gaze, and Duke watching from the back. It was like I had forgotten how to walk.

I’d performed in front of thousands, commanded entire stadiums with just my voice and presence.

Acting should have been easy. Instead, my skin prickled with hyperawareness of every detail, from the weight of the cameras tracking my movement to the subtle shifts of the lighting as I passed through it. But my eyes drifted to find Duke.

“Cut!” Tennyson’s voice was laced with irritation. “Chance, your attention needs to be on Rook, got it?”

My cheeks heated in humiliation. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Let’s go again from the top. Action!”

I reset my position, rolling my shoulders back. Cade might be nervous about performing later, but their first meeting was his element. I could relate to the thrill of catching someone’s attention, the game of seeing how far that interest might go. Duke distracting me had to stop.

Keeping my focus on Rook as I approached the bar, I let Cade’s confidence wrap around me like a familiar jacket. I’d played the role countless times in real life of the flirtatious musician who could charm his way into anyone’s good graces. The only difference was now I had a script.

Rook stood behind the bar, polishing a glass the same way Duke had been the first day I met him. In character, Rook asked, “Looking for something specific?”

And in that split second, I forgot every word in the English language. I could only stare at Rook with scared eyes.

“Cut!” Tennyson growled in frustration. “What’s going on, Chance?”

“Sorry, I’ll—I promise I’ll do better,” I stammered, feeling two inches tall.

“Stop wasting our time,” he said in a clipped tone. “I need you to take this seriously.”

I bowed my head as shame washed over me. “Yes, sir.” I wasn’t used to being bad at anything, so the rebuke stung twice as much.

“Start again.” Tennyson waited until I returned to my original position before calling out, “Action!”

I took a deep breath, doing my best to embody Cade’s confidence as I headed for the bar. It should have been effortless since flirting with hot guys was my specialty. But with the cameras rolling and Duke’s presence burning into my back, the simple scene felt impossible .

“Looking for something specific?” His delivery was perfect again.

My mouth opened, but nothing came out. I knew the line. I’d practiced it a hundred times. Just say it. Say anything!

The director’s harsh tone made me flinch. “Cut! Chance, the line is ‘Maybe. Depends on what you’re offering.’ It’s not Shakespeare.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Heat crawled up my neck. “Let me try again.”

“From the top. Action!”

I walked to the bar again, my feet feeling like lead weights. Rook delivered his line flawlessly.

“Maybe it might depend,” I stumbled over the words.

“Cut! Focus, Chance.”

My hands trembled as I returned to my starting mark. I’d performed for stadiums of screaming fans, done countless interviews, and filmed music videos before. Why was such a simple scene destroying me?

“Action!”

This time, I made it through the first exchange but flubbed the next line about open mic night. Tennyson’s exasperated sigh made me want to disappear into the floor.

“Again. And try to remember you’re supposed to be attracted to him, not terrified.”

That was the worst part. Flirting was as easy as breathing to me. But with each failed take, my confidence crumbled further. Duke’s presence felt like a spotlight on my inadequacy.

“You’re too stiff,” Tennyson barked after another botched attempt. “This is supposed to be natural chemistry, not a hostage situation.”

My cheeks burned. I’d never felt less natural in my life. Every movement was mechanical, each line forced. The effortless charm I usually wielded had abandoned me.

“Do you need cue cards?” Tennyson rubbed his temples. “Let’s try it again. And this time, act like you’ve talked to another human being before.”

Rook maintained his professional patience, but he was probably raging at having to work with such an amateur. I was wasting everyone’s time, proving every critic right who’d yelled about me being stunt casting.

“Action!”

I made it halfway through the scene before my voice cracked on a line I’d rehearsed dozens of times.

“Cut! What the hell was that?” Tennyson’s patience had run out. “Do you even want to be here?”

“I swear I do.” My voice sounded small and pathetic, humiliating me further.

“Then act like it! This is kindergarten-level stuff, and you’re performing as if you’ve never heard of acting before.”

Each word hit hard. I couldn’t bring myself to look at Duke, couldn’t bear to see the disappointment I knew would be there. The man I’d been trying to seduce was watching me fail spectacularly at being charming and flirtatious. I had never been so humiliated before.

“Tennyson.” Rook’s deep voice cut through my spiral of shame. “I think we could use a break. Give everyone a moment to reset.”

The director threw up his hands. “Fine. Fifteen minutes. Chance, get your shit together. This is embarrassing.”

Rook guided me away from prying eyes, his firm hand on my shoulder, steering me toward the back hallway.

My stomach twisted, preparing for the lecture or chewing out I deserved for wasting everyone’s time.

But when he turned to face me, his expression held none of the judgment I expected. Instead, it was sympathetic and kind.

He leaned against the wall to give me space. “The first time I acted in a movie, I threw up in a potted plant between takes.”

I blinked as I looked up at him. “What?”

“True story. The director kept yelling, ‘More intensity,’ and all I could think was, did he want me to die for real? I was so green I didn’t know stage left from stage right.” His blue eyes crinkled with amusement, making him feel far more approachable. “The plant didn’t survive.”

A surprised laugh escaped me. “Seriously?”

“And that’s not even the worst of it. During my first love scene, I was so nervous I accidentally headbutted my co-star. We had to ice her forehead between takes.”

“But you’re Rook fucking Warrick .”