Method(33)

“Mila, how are you, beauty?”

Curious as to why you haven’t called me in four days.

Instead of being petty, my reply is guarded but polite. “Just about to take a shower and uncork a bottle.”

“Save that cork. I’m sending a car for you.”

“Oh? Another private lesson?”

“Such a smartass. I want to see you. I’m leaving tomorrow, and I could use some advice.”

“On what?”

He pauses a few seconds.

“Lucas, are you there?”

“Yes, I’m here, sorry. I’ll ask for it when you get here.”

“This is a conditional solicitation for advice?”

There’s a barrage of noise in the background, and I hear his muffled voice as if he’s put his phone to his chest.

Annoyed with only half his attention and his lack of manners—in more ways than one—my irritation leaks when I speak. “Do you need to call me back?”

“No, no. And yes, you have to be present. So will you come?” Though distracted, the hopeful lift in his voice brings me back to our blanket and the shy, vulnerable side of him I find so attractive.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you want to see me?”

“You want a reason?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Fine, I’ll take the bait because…I can’t stop thinking about you.”

I smile at myself in the bathroom mirror. It’s a start.

“What exactly is it that you can’t stop thinking about?”

I can sense his grin over the line. “I can make you blush, Mila. It’s a beautiful sight. I bet you’re doing it now thinking along the same lines as I am. I bet you can feel that warmth creeping up your neck as I speak.”

Studying my reflection, I note the rapid rise and fall of my chest and the light pink hue burning my cheeks. The silver-tongued bastard has seduced me in seconds by phone.

“I won’t be so easily swayed.”

“Oh, don’t I know it.” The melodic rumble of his laugh sounds over the line. “What if I promise to put in the work?”

I hold my tongue making him wait for it.

“You there?”

“Give me half an hour for the car?”

Satisfaction coats his reply. “My driver, Paul, is already there. Come out when you’re ready.”

I head to my living room, peeking through my blinds as a blacked-out sedan comes into view. This scenario leaves me a little unimpressed. “So very Hollywood, Mr. Walker.”

“Couldn’t be helped.”

Walking back into my bathroom, I hit the speaker and start to undress.

“And what if I had plans tonight?”

“You just told me you didn’t.”

“What if I did?”

“Well, then I would hope you would break them. I know it’s a little presumptuous, but you’re coming, so it’s settled.”

“I can change my mind.”

“Don’t. And Mila?”

The sound of my name on his lips coats my insides.

“Yes?” It’s there, the anticipation, the adrenaline spike.

“I’ve missed you.”

He sounds so sincere that I’m stunned silent. My heart starts beating in a beautiful rhythm as I kick my panties aside. It’s a good thing I’m speechless because his silence tells me he’s ended the call.

“Could’ve fooled me, Hollywood,” I mutter drawing the shower curtain.

“I heard that,” he says with a chuckle. “See you soon.” And then he does hang up.

Palming my face, I can’t help but free the growing smile underneath.





Nearly an hour later, I’m chauffeured into the studio parking lot, thankful I’m not overdressed. Clad in dark jeans, black ankle boots, and an off-the-shoulder shirt, it’s just casual enough. My dark hair is down in waves that end just past my shoulders. I’ve smoked out my eyes to match their color and thoroughly glossed my lips. I never thought to ask where I was going. Excitement spikes when I take in the darkened lot, though it’s hardly deserted. Someone is bustling around every corner. In a way, it’s what I expected. A series of buildings that hold executive offices and stages scattered along the lot. We glide past streets full of production warehouses when the car comes to a stop to one of the same. A building marked Stage 7. A woman who seems to be around my age and is all smiles waits for me at the curb. As I take the driver’s hand in a guided exit from the car, she’s sputtering off niceties when she greets me. She’s dressed casually in short shorts, a collared tee, and has her dark blonde hair tightly braided, a walkie-talkie in one hand and a clipboard in the other. “Hi, Mila. I’m Nova, Lucas’s assistant.”

“Hi,” I parrot back shouldering my purse and thanking the driver, Paul, who’d spoken only two sentences since he’d picked me up. Surveying the lot, I look back to Nova. “I’m weirded out,” I tell her honestly.

“I can imagine. I was too the first time. Unfortunately, it’s rather depressing when you actually see the process. I think it ruins the magic. He’s doing you an injustice by bringing you here. It’s a lot of lights, sound, and position, and that’s on a good day.”