But at the time, Ross was drowning in guilt or something close to it, insisting I take the job, and I couldn’t imagine slinking off unemployed. My pride wouldn’t let me.
“Yes. It’s good.”
She rolls her eyes and in turn, my lips thin, nerves coiling around my windpipe. I’m getting sick of her brusque behavior.
Lydia must pick up on the shift in my demeanor because she relaxes her posture, suddenly appearing more approachable.
“Look, I’m here to help. I’m trying to get you through the introductions.” She forces a thin smile. “Bryce will explain more to you. In the script, the scenes in Spanish and Russian are what you’ll be working on. Your job is to coach the actors to say their lines as naturally as possible.”
My cheeks heat at the obvious task description. “I can do that.”
“Great. Let’s meet Tristan Kingsley.” She’s midturn when my feet stutter.
“What?” I croak at the mention of Hollywood’s hottest star, and my insides fill with dread not excitement.
“Prudence, let’s walk and talk.” Her clipped tone and the use of my full name snaps me out of my trance.
“Pru. Call me Pru.”
“Fine. Let’s go. He’s waiting for us.”
“So, um, I didn’t know…um, Tristan Kingsley?” I sound like a bumbling idiot, and it isn’t because I’m starstruck.
Movie stars and other celebrities are people too. It’s just, the script didn’t have any of the actors listed, and foolishly, I didn’t think to ask.
And I’m only now realizing the caliber of people I will be teaching. If I play this right, I could use this to my advantage.
Maybe Whitney Carmichael isn’t a threat after all. If I do my job well and make solid connections over the next few weeks, I could have another job in no time.
“Yes.” She whips around to glare at me. “Please tell me you know who he is?”
I nod, and she’s happy with my response, continuing through another door. Of course I know who he is.
The Kingsleys are Hollywood royalty, and they wield a lot of power both on and off the screen. Tristan is one of many in a line of Kingsley actors and I think some producers or directors as well.
My phone chimes as Lydia knocks on the door clearly marked with the celeb’s name. Her stare is pointed. “Silence your phone.”
Properly admonished, I flush and mutter apologies while pulling the offending phone out of my handbag to glance at the text.
Ross: Good luck today.
Screw you, Ross.
Instead of responding because there’s far too much I want to say about his wife, I silence my phone and drop it into my purse. I’m not even close to forgiving him.
The trailer is at least ten times the size of the dingy room I’m assigned and decked out like someone’s home with a leather couch, large flat screen TV, and a small kitchen area. Everything is top of the line.
Lydia introduces me to the man standing in a plain white T-shirt and faded blue jeans. “Tristan Kingsley, this is Pru Edwards, your foreign dialect coach.”
“Pru?” He takes my hand, donning a dimpled, flirty smile that I’m sure has women throwing themselves at him. “What kind of name is that?”
Ignoring the all too familiar question, I smile. “Yes, Pru. Nice to meet you.”
Recently named the Sexiest Man Alive, Tristan is tall and handsome and a year or two younger than I am, if my memory serves me right.
“Alina tried her best with me, but I need all the help I can get. My Spanish is rusty and Russian, forget it. Please tell me you’re going to make me sound good.” He chuckles, and underneath his swagger, I detect a hint of genuine nerves.
Alina? Who is she?
Learning a new language, even if only several pages, can be daunting, especially if you’ll be on film for millions to view.
“I’ll do my best, and I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
Lydia’s headset crackles and she says into the mouthpiece, “I’ll let him know and I’ll bring her over in five.” My PA then looks to Tristan. “Cliff has your scheduled times with Pru, starting this aft. And you’re needed on set in thirty.”
“All right. I’m off to wardrobe. See you later.” He winks at me.
Lydia exits, and I quicken my pace to walk alongside her. “Who’s Cliff?”
“Tristan’s on-set PA. You’re meeting Eli now, and you two will have ninety minutes. Hopefully, Bryce can see you after. If not, we’ll do it after lunch.”
“Okay. I’m coaching Eli?” I recall the film has three characters who speak in languages other than English—two male and a female. “Isn’t there also an actress?”
“Tristan and Eli are the only two you’ll be coaching. Sonia already speaks Spanish and she has no scenes in Russian.”
“Oh. Okay.” I have so many questions, but I struggle to focus on one at a time. “So Tristan is which character?”
“The younger brother.” From her long, drawn-out sigh, she can tell I’m still clueless. “Tristan plays Daniel, Eli is Adrian, and Sonia is Martina.”
“Sonia? Do you mean Sonia Crowley?”
Apart from Tristan, I don’t know any of the other lead actors. Eli isn’t familiar, but Sonia is a model turned actress who’s making waves both in the Spanish and American film industry.
“Yes.”
I’m about to ask about the third actor, Eli, but I never get the chance. Lydia raps on a door and the familiar name embossed on the outside of it steals my words.
No. It can’t be.
Dazed, I follow her inside, nearly tripping over my feet. My eyes must deceive me. There’s no way I’m about to meet one of my favorite rock stars.
Several feet in front of me is the man I can’t get out of my head or my dreams. The person I’d easily say is the sexiest man alive.
This can’t be real.
“Eli Lansing, this is Pru Edwards.” Lydia swings her hand in my direction. “She’s the new foreign dialect coach.”
I stand there, slack-jawed and stunned, unable to take my eyes off him. He’s perfection in casual black pants and a crisp, white button-down. The expensive cotton stretches across his defined chest, just enough to hint at the taut muscles lurking beneath.
His jawline is cut like granite, dusted in sexy stubble, and his lips are full and firm. Thick, dark hair carelessly mussed and warm brown eyes melt my insides.
Eli thrusts his hand out for a shake, no indication he recognizes me, and I’m fascinated by his long fingers, knowing all too well how his hand feels on my body.
How those calloused digits dug into the flesh of my thighs, gripped my backside, and stroked me into a frenzy. I experience a strong tug low in my stomach at the clear memory.
“Pru?” Lydia’s agitation yanks me from my trance.
Mindlessly, I lift my arm, and my chest rises and falls rapidly. Every part of my body tingles in anticipation, and my hand ignites at his scorching touch.
Eli Lansing was my unforgettable one-night stand.
5
Eli
At a loss for words
Holy!