Please, just stop worrying about me. I don’t matter to you anymore. Move on with your life, and forget about me.
Shoving the phone into my bag, I stalked out of the dressing room in only my robe, trying hard to ignore the leering eyes of Ivan. I thought about him thinking about me, and again, I wanted to hurl. I couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as him. Every glance, every sneer brought that night flashing back. My heart raced as I walked back over to the set. I curled my arms around my waist, and waited for the producer to tell me what he wanted me to do.
I forced myself to focus on him. Sam Squires. I’d worked with him on some of my previous shoots. We’d gotten along well. The fact that he was gay made being naked in front of him that little bit easier. The only eyes I worried about being on me were Ivan’s, but it wasn’t like I could order him out of the room. If only I could order him out of my life . . .
“Beth, I need you to enter from over there, drop the robe, and wrap yourself in the sheet.”
I glanced at the mock-up bedroom, complete with a canopy bed made-up with cream-colored silk sheets, and I nodded. I could do this. I had to do this.
As I walked over to the edge of the set, I forced myself to focus on something else. The first thing that popped into my head was him. Saturday night. Scarlett.
The thought of not seeing him again made me feel nervous, which made no sense because I knew literally nothing about him. But there was something about him that drew me in. A connection. It wasn’t lust, or attraction; at least, it wasn’t only that. I couldn’t even explain it, but it was deeper. I felt safe around him. I felt around him the way Coop had made me feel.
I wasn’t stupid. I knew my head was trying to replace what I had with Coop with someone who made me feel just as safe. Coop had been such a big part of my life for so long. Much more than he’d ever realized. For him, I was a client and a friend, but for me, he’d been my only real friend.
In this business, everyone wants something from you. People don’t hang around with you unless you could give t
hem something. Coop had been different. He saw the real me, and loved me for who I was instead of what I could do for him. That was why I’d helped him out with his mom’s care. Despite my feelings for him, I did want him to be happy.
And he was. Happy in the arms of another woman. God, I sounded so juvenile. It was so easy to forget that I was so young. I was only twenty, yet I’d been the person in charge of my life for as long as I could remember.
We ran through the acts for the clip, most of which involved me rolling around, half-naked on the bed, trying to look sexy—which was very hard to do with Ivan standing on the corner of the set, a faint smile on his lips. I shuddered, chills running down my back, wishing I was anywhere but here.
“Roll the other way for me, Beth. Can you show a little more leg?”
I lifted the sheet higher, uncovering all of my left thigh. If I went any higher the sheet would be pointless. I glanced over at Ivan, just in time to see him shove his hand in his pocket. He narrowed his eyes at me and grinned.
Was…was he touching himself? My eyes widened as I glared at him in disgust. His lip curled up and he grinned in response. Oh my god, he is sick!
“Beth, just a few more shots, maybe smile a little more?” I turned back to Sam and nodded, determined to block Ivan out. But that was easier said than done. The fact that he would do that, here, in full view of everyone made me wonder what else he was capable of.
***
Several takes later, we wrapped things up, the video finished—apart from editing. At least from a producer’s standpoint, today had been a good day. In spite of my partying, my pounding head . . . and Ivan, I’d managed to be professional, and fast.
As soon as the final take wrapped up, I rushed to the dressing room, the silk sheet still wrapped tightly around my body. Tying my long blonde hair back into a ponytail, I stared at my reflection in the dressing room mirror. Huge dark bags hung under my green eyes—eyes that, to me, appeared empty and lifeless. If the eyes were the entry into the soul, then I was in some serious trouble.
I scrubbed the heavy makeup off my face, and then brushed some lip-gloss onto my lips. I quickly shoved my things back into my bag, eager to get home and relax.
Everyone else had left. I liked to wait until I knew I was alone, because then I could avoid the mindless chitchat, pretending to be interested in other people’s lives.
The old Beth used to love talking to people. She was happy, and social. Me? I just wanted to be left alone.
“I can’t tell you how sexy you looked up there, honey.”
I froze, my body instantly recoiling at the sound of that voice. Through the mirror, my gaze met his.
Ivan.
His dark eyes were almost black as he approached me. Still frozen in shock, I tried to focus on my breathing, and not on the way my skin crawled as he touched my shoulder, memories I’d tried so hard to bury pushing back into my mind. I swallowed heavily, wishing I were anywhere but here, alone with him.
“Such a pretty girl, Beth. I’m lucky to have you.”
You don’t have me, I wanted to scream.
But I couldn’t. I sat there, frozen, as his fingers ran over my neck. My mind flashed back to that night. Him, on top of me . . . so heavy. His breath had reeked of cheap whisky and stale cigarettes, and the overpowering stench of his body odor. I shuddered, remembering his laughter as he ignored my pleas, asserting that I wanted it.
“I get hard just thinking about you, honey. The number of times I’ve jerked off, imagining everything else I’d like to do to you.”