Hate the Player: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy(16)

“Hey now, princess!” I hear Luca yell in the background. “You’re getting a little too giddy over kissing that bastard.”

“Relax, caveman.” Billie giggles. “You’re the only bastard I want to kiss.”

“Damn straight!” he calls back. “And did you say that Birdie slapped Andrew in the middle of her audition? Or am I just hearing shit?”

“Oh, she definitely slapped him,” Billie says through a giggle, like it’s all just fun and games that I attacked someone in William Capo’s office.

“Fuck, that’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.” Luca’s responding laughter can’t be missed.

“Yeah, well, that’s all well and good he’s amused by it, but you should probably remind him that he’s the one who recommended me for the part. You know, the one I just committed a crime while auditioning for,” I chime in, but before I can add to it, someone else catches my attention.

“Birdie?”

I look toward the terrace doors to find Nell Franz.

Oh shit. This is probably the part where they kindly ask me to leave. Or, hell’s bells, maybe the cops are already on their way, and she’s just, like, trying to distract me until they get here.

“I gotta go, Billie,” I whisper into the phone and quickly hit end on the call before she can respond.

“Sorry,” I apologize and rise to my feet. “Just had to make a quick phone call.”

“No worries,” she responds, and I’m surprised that her voice sounds so open, so friendly. But then again, maybe that’s because she thinks she’s talking to someone who is unhinged. That’s probably how you’re supposed to handle crazy people.

“Are you ready to come back upstairs?”

“Uh…” I pause and stare down at my feet. “I think it’s best if you say what you need to say out here.”

No use making a big show in front of a crowd.

Nell’s lips quirk up into a smile. “Actually, I’m pretty sure everyone up there wants to be a part of the good news.”

Good news? Either she has a sick sense of humor, or I’m missing something. Her smile grows.

“You did fantastic up there, Birdie.”

“I did?”

“You don’t think you did?”

I shake my head. Pretty sure slapping a potential costar in the face is not on the approved guidelines for etiquette.

“Honey, trust me on this, for your first audition, you were brilliant,” she states, voice unwavering. “Perfect, actually. Howie’s already made a note to add that slap into the scene.”

My eyes widen. What?

“So, why don’t you come back upstairs with me,” she says and gestures toward the door, “and let Mr. Capo do the honors of officially offering you the role of Arizona Lee.”

Holy. Fucking. Shit. I got the part.





Andrew



The only kind of wake-up calls I schedule involve a naked woman and my hard cock. Other than that, I prefer to wake up on my own time, when my body feels like it. Today, evidently, my assistant doesn’t give a fuck what I want.

“Andrew!” The voice is loud and certainly unwelcome. “Andrew!”

I blink open my eyes and find my assistant Blake standing at the foot of my California King bed. He’s dressed in his typical fashion—a slim suit, crisp shirt, and skinny tie, all color-coordinated to make the rest of the population’s color-scheming feel inferior. Today’s theme is the color purple. So much fucking purple, even Oprah wouldn’t know what to do with herself.

Blake Barren has been my assistant for the last eight years. For the first five of those years, he played second fiddle to my first assistant Janie. But once Janie chose marriage and kids over dealing with me, Blake became my number one. And, truthfully, he is so good at his job, I haven’t even considered adding another assistant into the mix.

Although, I would never openly tell him that.

“What time is it?” I ask, scrubbing a hand down my face and sliding the comforter off my legs.

“A little after ten,” Blake answers, but then he screeches and covers his eyes with his hand. “Jesus, are you naked?”

“I always sleep naked.” I laugh. “You’re just not normally here. Quite frankly, you weren’t even fucking invited this time.”

He scoffs behind his hand.

Still, I make no move to get out of bed or cover the goods. It’s not my problem he decided to barge into my bedroom.

And let’s be honest, there are a lot worse-looking cocks he could be face-to-face with than mine. I don’t want to put words in people’s mouths, but I think the women I’ve been with would agree, it wouldn’t be an overreach to refer to it as spectacular.

“Mind telling me why you’re here?”

“Because it’s Monday.”

Shit. It’s already Monday?

When I’m not on location, every fucking Monday, my team comes together for a weekly meeting. Thankfully, the location is my house, but I’m pretty sure that’s because they know it’s the only way to get me there on time—or at all, to be honest.

I sigh and stare up at the ceiling. “Give me five minutes, and I’ll be downstairs.”