When Da Silva Breaks the Rules (Blood Brothers 3)

On some rational level he knew it wasn’t real. That it was just acting. He could see Rogan helping Lexie up. The actor looked faintly traumatised. Lexie looked impossibly pale, and sort of glassy-eyed. A shiver of foreboding went down Cesar’s spine. He knew that it had obviously been a traumatic scene to shoot, but there was something else going on—he could feel it.

But then they were going again, and he heard the camera assistant say, ‘Scene One Hundred, Take Twenty.’

Cesar pulled off the earphones and looked at the video guy incredulously. ‘They’ve done this nineteen times?’

The man gulped. ‘Yes, sir. We’ve been doing this scene all day from different angles. This is the last shot, but he’s milking it.’

Cesar felt rage building inside him. The camera was close up on Lexie’s face again and he saw a tear roll out of her eye and down one cheek. She hadn’t cried last time.

Something rose up inside Cesar—something he couldn’t even articulate. An overwhelming need to get to her. He surged to his feet, almost knocking over the wall of monitors. He stormed to the door of the set, swatting the protesting third AD aside.

He opened the door just as the camera assistant was saying, ‘Scene One Hundred, Take Twenty-One.’

‘Enough.’ Cesar’s voice cracked out like a whip.

* * *

Lexie turned her head and looked at Cesar. He saw only those huge bruised blue eyes, and something in their depths...a mute appeal. She wasn’t acting any more. He knew it without even knowing how.

He walked straight over and scooped her up into his arms, and for the first time in two days he felt slightly sane again.

The director was standing up now, blustering. ‘What the hell are you doing, Da Silva? You can’t just barge in here like this.’

Cesar stopped in the act of turning around. Lexie was far too slight a weight in his arms as he said coldly, ‘You’re on my property. I can do whatever the hell I want.’

‘But we haven’t got the shot yet.’

Even icier now, Cesar said, ‘If you haven’t managed to get it yet then perhaps you shouldn’t be directing.’

He was barely aware of a suppressed snigger from one of the crew as he strode out of the room, Lexie curled into his chest, her head tucked down. It reminded him of how she’d curled into his chest after making love that first time. When she’d cried like a baby.

He carried her all the way to his apartment and took her into his bedroom. He sat down on the edge of the bed, still holding her. He was shaking from the adrenalin and anger coursing through his system.

After a long time, she moved in his arms. But she wouldn’t look at him. She just said, in a quiet voice, ‘I need to have a shower.’

Cesar got up and deposited her gently on the side of the bed, crouching down. Finally she met his gaze but her eyes were flat. As if she didn’t see him. A shard of ice pierced him inside.

Reluctantly he left her to go and turn on the shower. When he came out she was standing, albeit shakily. ‘Do you need help?’ he asked.

She shook her head and went in, closing the door behind her. Cesar restrained himself from following her, making sure she was all right. The shower ran for long minutes.

Eventually it stopped. Lexie was so long coming out that Cesar was about to knock on the door when it opened. She was wrapped in his towelling robe. It swamped her. Her hair was damp and hung in long golden tendrils over her shoulders.

He handed her a glass of brandy. ‘Here—you should drink some of this.’

Lexie wrinkled her nose, but she took it and sipped at it before handing it back. Cesar put it down on a nearby table. He felt unaccountably ill-equipped to know what to do. What to say.

‘You shouldn’t have done that.’

She was looking at him with her chin tilted up and Cesar arched a brow. ‘Would you prefer to be back there doing Take Thirty right now?’

She paled so dramatically that Cesar reached out and put his hands on her arms.

‘No,’ he said grimly, leading her out to the living area and guiding her to sit down on the couch. ‘I didn’t think so.’

Lexie seemed impossibly tiny and fragile sitting on the big couch. Cesar stood over her and crossed his arms, because even now all he wanted to do was touch her. I need space. He cursed silently.

‘So, are you going to tell me what’s going on?’