Damn, the view from the top of the world was spectacular.
He spread his arms, sneering. “Knock yourself out. You’ll be doing me a favor.”
“What?” Her heart skipped a beat.
Why wasn’t he begging her to stay?
“That’s right. Walk, princess.” Now it was his turn for a smug, winner's grin. “And guess what? I won’t even feel tempted to stare at your boney fucking ass while you go.”
No, no, no.
This couldn’t be happening. The studio had warned her of how important this movie was for her career. She’d gotten in hot water on the last set for allegedly causing too much drama and unrest among the cast by sleeping with her co-star. How the hell was she supposed to know he’d had a pregnant girlfriend? The chick had never once hung around the set. Besides, he’d come on to her, not the other way around.
Asshole.
Regardless, the studio warned her if she acted out on this set, it’d be the last time they worked with her.
And they were a big fucking deal. As in, career makers or breakers. Even at her level of stardom. In Hollywood, there was always someone above you on the food chain. Few could destroy the life she’d made for herself, but a major studio executive was one of those people.
And with the way his grin curled in sinister delight, Francola knew it.
“Charles…” She’d have died from the flood of panic without years of solid acting experience propping her up. To everyone watching, she stood tall, arrogant, indifferent to his idle threats. But her insides shriveled and died in the same way they’d done at her very first audition. Only then, she had the resiliency of youth to bounce back and charge forward. Now? Now all she wanted was to lock herself in her trailer with a bottle of vodka and some Xanax until the pain subsided.
“Please go, Scarlett. I’d hate to have to call security on you,” Charles said, and then that motherfucker turned his back on her.
Fuck the studio and fuck Charles. She was the country’s hottest movie star, for fuck’s sake.
With the sun barely peeking over the horizon, Michaela let out a harsh laugh. “Enjoy the unemployment line, asshole,” she said as she lifted both hands in a double middle-finger salute. “I’m a fucking star known through every household in America. Who the fuck are you?”
With that parting shot, she spun on her heel, making sure to present her widest smile as she sashayed toward her trailer. Despite NDAs, these photos would go viral in minutes. She’d be damned if she didn’t look hot as fuck while leaving these losers in the dust. Her PR team would flip their shit, but fuck them, too. They worked for her, not the other way around. She paid them a shit ton of money to make her look fantastic, and they could earn their worth.
By the time her trailer was in sight, Becca had sprinted up next to her. “Okay, will do,” she said into her phone before ending a call. Breathless, she nearly jogged her tiny legs to keep up with Michaela’s long stride. “Soon as we get in the trailer, we’ll call Tatiana and get moving on damage control.” Her fingers flew over her phone screen. “Shit. I was hoping we’d a least have a few minutes before the videos started hitting social media, but no luck.”
“I want that man ruined,” Michaela spat out as she marched forward.
Becca didn’t respond.
Michaela’s headache jacked up in intensity until the rising sun felt as though it were burning her brain. God, was it only just past five in the morning? Seemed as though an entire week had gone by since she’d woken up.
When she reached the trailer, Michaela wrenched the door open so hard it smacked against the outside wall. Of course, Becca followed her inside. Just as she was about to kick her assistant out, Michaela’s gaze fell to her bed. She drew up short. “Who the fuck—”
Becca smacked into her back. “Sorry. Who are you talking about—oh.”
Michaela gaped at the two men passed out face down on her bed. She turned to her assistant. “Who the fuck are they?” One of the guys slept on his stomach, sheet covering his ass, but fully tattooed back on display. The one next to him had smooth, bare skin, but lay on his back with the sheet covering, well, nothing. “Jesus, are they naked? What the fuck?”
Becca’s nose wrinkled as she averted her gaze. Michaela knew that Becca had seen far worse while working for her and shouldn’t be afraid of a little male nudity, but still, the sweet girl blushed and stared at the floor. “Um, you don’t remember?”
“Obviously, I don’t fucking remember. Would I be asking if I did?” She gripped the back of her neck and blew out a breath. The braid in her hair had to go. It pulled her scalp ridiculously taught, exacerbating the pain.