Page 11

Chapter 11

Death Proof

VANESSA

“A nd this is our stunt coordinator, Stelios Diaz.” Rachel, Zach Wesselman’s assistant, introduces us. “Since you arrived late to set, you’ll be with him for most of the week catching up on your stunts.”

We arrived on location in Mesa, Arizona this morning and were immediately introduced to Wesselman, who introduced us to Rachel who has been spending her day showing us around the set and introducing us to everyone I’ll be working with over the coming weeks.

“Good to have you on board.” The massive man holds out a hand, his dark gaze shuttered.

I reach out to take it, but Keenan intercepts, moving between us. “Why does she need stunt coordination?” The two men are equal in size.

I grip Keenan’s hand, attempting to tug him back. “Keenan, this is?—”

He refuses to budge, growling. “She’s not doing anything dangerous.”

Rachel looks at me in confusion. “I thought he was a bodyguard. Is he your manager or something? The stunts were in the contract. You signed off on them.”

“Yes, I know, I’m sorry, my bodyguard?—”

“I don’t care who signed what,” Keenan argues. “She’s not doing anything that could get her hurt.”

I dig my nails into his arm as I use all my strength to drag him away from the others. “Stop arguing with them!”

He rounds on me, refusing to move any further, leaving us within hearing distance of Rachel and Stelios. “Someone has to protect you on set and that’s my job.”

“You are my fake bodyguard,” I hiss from between gritted teeth, keeping my voice as low as possible. “You don’t get a say and I’m not nearly famous enough to argue with these people. I am extremely replaceable.”

His brows lower as he frowns. “Are you telling me these people see you as disposable?”

“No!” I blow out a breath, trying to think of a way to calm my protective wolf down and keep my brand-new role. “This is a Wesselman movie, Keenan. Getting in on one of his films is the biggest break an actor can get. His work sweeps up during awards season.”

He looks at me blankly.

“The Oscars? Golden Globes? Ringing any bells?”

He shakes his head. “Never heard of them.”

“Oh my god.” I throw my hands up in frustration. “And the natural order thinks we’re compatible?”

“The natural order doesn’t make mistakes.”

I glance at Rachel, who’s looking at her phone impatiently. She probably has a million things to do today and watching me argue with my would-be bodyguard isn’t one of them.

I stand on my toes as I widen my eyes. “I’ve spent my whole life working toward this moment, please don’t ruin it for me.”

His expression remains unmoved. “You’re not doing anything dangerous, Vanessa. Fluttering your eyelashes at me won’t change that fact.”

“This is a Wesselman film, Keenan!”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It means that the most dangerous stunt I’ll be doing is jumping off a chair. He directs eccentric postmodern dramedies, not shoot-em-up, explosive action flicks.”

“Actually,” Stelios interjects.

We both look towards him.

“You’ll be thrown off a train that’s simulating movement, then you’ll get back on the train from another vehicle. And there’s another one where you’ll have to jump from one car to another as they uncouple?—”

“You’re not helping!” I snap.

At the same time, Keenan says, “Over my dead body.”

I glare at him. “That can be arranged.”

“What has been arranged,” Rachel interrupts, holding up her phone, “is a stunt double. She’ll be here tomorrow. Vanessa, I still need you to work with Stelios on some of the easier stunts.” At Keenan’s growl, she adds, “Like stumbling into a wall. We need her face in some of the action shots.”

“No problem,” I say brightly, kicking Keenan’s shin.

He grunts, but keeps his mouth shut, apparently satisfied with the solution.

“C’mon, I’ll take you to your trailer, then you’re expected in costume for fittings. Can you manage that one on your own?” Rachel’s impatience is loud and clear.

I nod, though I haven’t got a clue where the costume department is. We were taken there earlier, but the film set is starting to feel like a maze.

We follow Rachel as she weaves her way through a lot filled with trailers. She stops in front of one with a sign on the door that says ‘Hailey Whitmore.’ “We’ll get the sign updated. Anything else I can do for you, or can you handle things from here?” Pulling her phone out, she taps the screen, then says, “Your schedule for the week has been emailed to you. Look over it when you get a chance, but also get your ass to costume. They were expecting you half an hour ago.”

Before I can tell her I’m definitely not going to be fine on my own, she turns and walks swiftly away, her running shoes crunching on the gravel. I look at Keenan who’s staring after Rachel, his expression bemused.

“Let’s have a look.” I push the door to the trailer open.

The interior is modern and posh with a bedroom, bathroom, and kitchenette. A gorgeous, overflowing Champagne and fruit basket sits on the kitchen table, a card nestled in the tissue paper welcomes me to the film. Tossing it on the table, I wrap my arms around myself, feeling self-conscious. This trailer wasn’t meant for me, but at least the fruit basket is.

“What’s wrong?” Keenan demands, his sharp eyes searching my face.

I try to tug my lips into a smile and fail. “A little overwhelmed.”

Not a little, a lot, but I don’t want to admit it. I’m on the verge of realizing my lifelong dream and the terrified child inside me wants to run away and hide under the covers. I’m a weak stand-in for the truly amazing movie star who was originally cast. What on Earth happened that I’m the replacement for Hailey Whitmore?

“What do you mean by stand-in?” Keenan asks, baffled.

I sigh, fighting the urge to yell at him for invading my thoughts. He can’t seem to help himself.

“You’re wrong. I can help myself, but in this instance, I choose my mate’s comfort over her privacy. Tell me why you feel like a weak stand-in compared to this… what was her name? Hailey something.”

“You’ve seriously never heard of her?” I flop onto a cream leather couch with a groan. “She’s one of the best in the business. An A-list actor with dozens of prime roles and awards under her belt. I’m nobody. How can I possibly compare to someone like her?”

“Why did she leave the film?” He sits next to me, his thigh pressing mine.

A wave of calm washes over me and I soak in his steady presence. “Laz told me it was creative differences, but that can mean anything.”

He leans against the back of the couch, pulling me with him, his arm around my shoulders.

I know I need to get to costume, but his warmth draws me in, holding me in place next to him.

“You told me Wesselman is known for his creative modern films, right?”

“Postmodern,” I correct him. “But yes, he’s a genius.”

“Then the guy is probably not known for screwing up when it comes to his creative film choices.”

“Including his casting choices,” I finish his thought, the anxiety starting to melt away.

“Yes, exactly.” He squeezes me around the shoulders. “You being here on his film set proves he wants you in the lead role, not this other actor. You have nothing to worry about as long as you stay away from Stelios.”

I laugh. “And who’s going to give me trouble if I hang out with Stelios?”

He tips me back on the couch, covering me. My laughter dies away as the feeling of his rock-solid body distracts me.

“If you even think about doing your own stunts, I’ll know.” He taps my head, reminding me he can read my thoughts. “You’ll find yourself locked in this trailer for the duration of filming and Stelios will find himself on the business end of my wolf.”

“Your ass?” I ask him, grinning.

“My teeth.” He lowers his head to mine.

I hold my breath as his lips make contact. He barely touches me, but sparks ignite and zings of pleasure race through me.

He lifts his head, his golden eyes taking on a smoky hue. “I want to take this further, but you have a busy day.”

I nod, feeling shy. He takes my breath away and makes me feel things I’ve never felt. I want his touch more than I want my next breath. As confused as I am about our relationship, no part of me is confused by the lust coursing through my veins.

He helps me up, his lips quirking in a knowing smile.

“You can stay here while I go to costume. Make yourself at home, check out the fruit basket.”

He makes a face at the basket. “Not happening. Where you go, I go.”

“Keenan, I have a job to do.” It’s time to take a stand with this wolf and set my boundaries. When it comes to work, I make the decisions. “I need you to back off while we’re on set, let me call the shots.”

“You can call all the shots you want, but you’re doing it with me by your side.”

I huff and glance at the time. I’m now fifty minutes late for my costume appointment. “You aren’t really my bodyguard, so there’s no need to follow me everywhere. You’ll be bored.” And argue with anyone who touches me or talks to me in a way he doesn’t like.

“Only if they’re rude or aggressive,” he answers my unspoken thought. “I’m better than a bodyguard, I’m your mate.”

“Which we’re trying to keep under wraps until we sort this relationship out. We don’t want the whole world getting in our business, Keenan.”

“I don’t care about the whole world.” He steps closer, crowding me. “Just you.”

“I do care what the world thinks. Keenan, we’re in a unique situation that can easily explode into a scandal that buries us both.” I try to calm my libido enough to convince him to give me some breathing space. Not an easy prospect considering my girl parts are telling me to jump the man while my brain is urging me to think of my career.

He grips my shoulders and the calming sensation I’d felt earlier trickles through me.

A suspicion takes root and I jerk away from him, breaking contact. I glare at him. “Don’t you dare try to calm me down, wolfman. I’m in charge of my own feelings and if I want to worry, I’ll worry.” I glance at my phone again, growling. I’m an hour late now. “Fine, you can come, but I swear, if you threaten one single person in that costume department, I will have you skinned and made into a rug.”

He grins, throwing the door open and gesturing outside. “Only if you’re the one doing the skinning.”

An image of me running a knife gently over his skin while we lay naked on a furry white rug in front of a roaring fireplace invades my mind. He did that. He can put entire images in my brain. “Oh my,” I whisper, slipping past him, my face on fire.