The Consequence of Seduction (Consequence 3)

He shrugged. “Really? Are you saying you’re immune to my charms?”

“Yup.” Was he flexing? The “Hallelujah” chorus really needed to stop chiming in my ears.

“I always love a good challenge.”

“I’m not waving a red flag in front of you, Reid. I’m just being honest. Now get back to set before you get fired.”

“See ya later.” He stepped back and winked.

I didn’t react.

I stayed immune to his charms while I watched him walk all the way down the hall and out of sight.

And when I was positive he was gone . . .

I sank into my chair and let out a little whimper.

CHAPTER FIVE

REID

Theater camp had been forced on me at a young age. Both my brother and I had no choice but to spend the entire summer spouting Shakespeare while normal kids got to go to actual camps where things like s’mores and campfires were allowed. Theater camp was all about the competition, about being better than everyone else. Agents attended our summer finale, and that’s how I ended up on Broadway.

It was fun.

Until the schedule started stressing me out.

And then the movie offers very slowly started rolling in. I rejected most of them until this one caught my eye. I was always a sucker for contemporary Shakespeare remakes.

And this one was a personal favorite.

The Taming of the Shrew.

Mona, the actress who starred opposite me, was anything but a shrew. In fact, she was probably one of the nicest women I’d ever met. Too bad she was happily married with three kids.

I grabbed my script for the day and hurried down to set. My meeting with the PR firm had gone longer than I thought, thanks to my insane obsession with trying to make my new publicist blush or yell—really either worked for me. She wasn’t one of those women that immediately caught your eye, but she had a silent beauty with her big full lips and perfect hourglass shape specifically designed to drive men wild, compliments of those damn pencil skirts she kept wearing.

Muttering a curse, I continued walking toward Central Park, where part of the filming was taking place. I could have sworn I passed at least a dozen women all wearing pencil skirts. Maybe that’s what Max meant when he said the universe was plotting against me.

The only woman I had hit on in the past two months—and she just so happened to be off-limits.

Maybe she was one of those girls who had a hard-shelled M&M exterior, and I just needed to crack it. Or find another nut completely.

Wait, somehow she’d changed from a blue M&M to a nut. I really needed to get more sleep.

And stop fixating on her rejection.

My phone buzzed in my pocket just as the set came into view.

“What?” I barked into the phone.

Max sighed. “So, how’d the meeting go?”

“Are you really playing the concerned brother right now or are you just bored?”

He yawned. “Actually I’m in the bathroom and I thought, hey, what do I do when I want to cheer myself up? Call Reid.”

“I cheer you up?”

“Absolutely.” A toilet flushed in the background. “You always cheer me up. Wanna know why?”

“Because I’m awesome?”

“No, no, that’s not it.” Water turned on in the bathroom. “It’s because your love life is so depressing. It makes any sort of bad day that I have seem like a tiny blip on the radar. Tell me, how was that cold bed last evening? Did you cry yourself to sleep?”

I rolled my eyes. “I just got back to set, I don’t have time for this.”

He sighed heavily into the phone. “Look, I have an idea.”

“Your idea got me rejected last night.”

“No, this one’s better.”

“I highly doubt that.”

One of the PAs waved me over. I held up my hand.

“You’ve always wanted that house in the Florida Keys, right?”

“Wait, what?” It was hard to keep up with him sometimes. “What does that have to do with your idea or my rejection or cold bed?”

“Everything!” Max shouted. “Do you not listen? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Max, tell me the truth, are you drunk at work?” Max had recently taken over the Emory hotel empire and was literally bored to tears because it ran so efficiently that he said he needed to find a hobby lest he hang himself from the ceiling of his multi-million-dollar office. I had a sinking feeling I was the new hobby.

“Listen well, young grasshopper.” His voice had taken on a thick indistinguishable accent. There was a reason only one of us was currently acting for a living. “The house was given to me. You got the one in Seattle. Our parents, bless their hearts, had no idea I hate Florida and you hate the rain. They would if they ever listened or read any letters I sent them, or even just, you know, attended family dinners on Easter, Hanukkah, Presidents’ Day—”

“Max!” I yelled. “Get there faster!”

“Oh.” He coughed. “Right.” More coughing. “Well, we’ll trade. I’ll give you the deed to the Keys home, you give me the deed to Seattle . . .”

“What’s the catch?”

“You.”

“Huh?”

“One relationship that lasts longer than one month. I think that a secure, solid relationship might do you some good. Ever since Grandma—”

“We promised never to utter her name again,” I said in a hoarse voice. “You promised!”