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With a heady glare, I sassed, “What do you want?”
“You in a bright red bow.”
“Is that right?”
“Mm-hmm… you think you can arrange that?”
“I’ll see what I can do. You know, I’ll have to fit you in.”
“Sweetheart, you already have a hard time fitting me in.”
I knew he meant it as a double innuendo.
“Especially…” He grinned. “In that tight little asshole.”
I went to kiss him, but he let me go and stood me upright.
“Hey—” I was about to call him out on it, so I understood all too quickly why he backed away from me.
“No, no, no,” B. Night exclaimed, waving his arms around. “I love to see a romance within a romance. It will make for a better movie. I’m not an idiot.” He pointed back and forth between us. “My job is to find your connection. It’s how we create a legendary film together. You two are fire, and I’d be blind not to see it.”
Neither one of us said a word.
“The only warning I’m giving you is don’t fuck up my movie, understood?”
We nodded. Despite being as careful as we had been, it wasn’t enough. I’m sure this wasn’t the first time his costars messed around on a feature film. It was basically written in the contract. However, this was my first time.
“I say we use this”—he gestured back and forth between us—“drama on set, yes?”
“Umm—”
B. Night interrupted me, clapping his hands together. “Great.” His cell phone rang, and then he was out the door.
Before I could even contemplate what had just occurred, I made my way back to the punching bag. With a sigh, I grabbed a pair of gloves and slipped them on. In quick, steady movements, I threw a sequence of right and left hooks that barely budged the massive bag. It made me feel better, so I hit it again and again and again. I lost count of how many times I struck it.
Anxiously dwelling on the fact that our boss could see our connection.
Until I overheard Aires chastise, “Your form is all wrong.”
I spun and glared at him. “I can kick someone’s ass too.”
“Is that right?” he drawled, sidling up to me.
I ignored his sly grin and answered, “Yeah, that’s right.” Cocking my head side to side, I mocked in an arrogant tone, “I’m a badass bitch.”
“Don’t call yourself a bitch.”
I put my hands on his chest, giving him a little shove. Spewing nothing but attitude, I replied, “You want a piece of me? Is that it?”
His eyes zeroed in on me, amused with my performance. “I just saw you get your ass kicked by a cabinet. That answer your question?”
I snidely regarded him, staying in character. “You scared of me? Because I’m not scared of you.” And to really prove my point, I dramatically threw off my gloves and started jumping up and down, from my left foot to my right, holding my fists out in front of me like a real boxer. “I don’t need any gloves. I can fuck you up raw.” I was referring to my bare knuckles.
“Those are fighting words, little girl. Especially for someone giving me shit about controlling my anger last night.”
“Yeah, now I’m a ninja turtle!”
At a moment’s notice, he spun me around so fast that my back collided with his solid chest, which felt like a steel wall in itself. His sculpted arm snaked around my neck, holding my petite frame captive against his massive physique.
