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Or maybe it was all in her head. Maybe Genevieve saw her as nothing more than a temporary diversion, a pretty young thing to pass the time with.
Eden tossed and turned, unable to quiet her thoughts. When sleep finally claimed her, it was fitful and filled with dreams of Genevieve's touch.
They were back in Genevieve's elegant home. But this time, instead of fiery passion, there was tenderness. Genevieve held her close, whispering words of love and promise. Eden felt safe, cherished, complete.
But then the dream shifted. Suddenly, they were on stage, under the harsh glare of spotlights. Genevieve was directing her,her voice sharp with criticism. "This isn’t good enough, Eden," dream-Genevieve barked. "I always knew you’d disappoint me."
Eden woke with a start, her heart racing. The first light of dawn bathed her room in a dull, grey wash. She stared at the ceiling, the sound of her ragged breathing too loud to her own ears.
Fucking hell, Eden. You’re a bloody mess.
11
GENEVIEVE
Genevieve’s bitter frustration mounted with each new minute of Monday’s rehearsal, her keen eyes fixed on Eden as the young actress moved through the scenes. Something was off today. The fire that had burned so brightly lately in Eden's performances seemed to have dimmed, and had been replaced by a hesitancy that set Genevieve's teeth on edge.
As Eden delivered line after lacklustre line, her voice wavered, sorely missing the conviction it had held just days before. Genevieve felt herself getting dangerously close to breaking point. This wouldn't do at all.
"Stop," she commanded, her voice cutting through the air like a whip crack. The other actors froze, their eyes darting between their director and their fumbling lead actress.
Genevieve strode forward, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor like the pounding of a war drum. "Eden, what exactly do you think you're doing?"
Eden blinked, chewing on her lip in clear embarrassment. "I'm . . . I’m working on the scene, Ms. Howard."
"Are you?" Genevieve arched an eyebrow. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're sleepwalking through it.Where's Beatrice’s passion? The conviction? I don’t remember us agreeing to recast you as whomever this dull character is."
She saw the hurt flash across Eden's pale face, but Genevieve pressed on regardless. This was too important. She couldn't let her affection for Eden, or whatever might be growing between them, stop her from doing her job.
“I’m sorry,” Eden mumbled. “I’m in my head. I need to loosen up.”
The director gazed at her lead actress through narrowed eyes, yearning to dig into her brain and figure out what was strangling her talent. But now was not the time for a heart-to-heart. They were professionals, and if Genevieve Howard showed an ounce of leniency, word would spread like wildfire.
"Let's take it from the top," Genevieve instructed, her tone brooking no argument. "And this time, Eden, I want to see the Beatrice we've been working toward. Show me why I cast you in this role, before I give it to someone else."
Eden nodded, wide eyes glistening with the threat of terrified tears. As she began the scene again, Genevieve could see her struggling to find that spark, that connection to the character that had been so effortless before. It was there, flickering beneath the surface, but something was holding her back.
Genevieve watched with pursed lips, her arms crossed, as Eden pushed through the scene. It was better this time, but still not up to the standard they'd set in recent rehearsals. The other actors seemed to suffer from her waning energy, their own performances slightly stilted in response.
As the scene drew to a close, Genevieve held back a groan. This wasn't working. Whatever was going on with Eden, it was affecting the entire production. She'd have to address it head-on.
" All right, that's enough for today," she announced. "We'll pick this up tomorrow. I expect everyone to come back ready to run the entire act, top to bottom. If you’re not running lines inyour own time, you’re a drain on this whole production and I. Will. See. It."
The cast began to disperse as if a bomb had been dropped, hurriedly gathering their things and chatting in hushed tones. Genevieve's eyes remained fixed on Eden, who was dumping her script and water bottle into a tote bag, her shoulders slumped in dejection.
"Eden," Genevieve called out, her voice softer now that they were almost alone. "A word, please."
Eden looked up, her brows raised in clear apprehension. She nodded, making her way over to where Genevieve stood.
"Yes, Ms. Howard?"
Genevieve studied her for a moment, taking in the dark circles under her eyes, the slight tremor in her hands as she clutched her bag. "What's going on with you today? That performance was subpar, to say the least."
Eden's gaze dropped to the floor. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I just have some things going on. Slept badly. It won't happen again."
Genevieve felt a twinge of concern, quickly suppressed. She couldn't allow herself to get emotionally involved. This was about the play, nothing more. "Care to elaborate?" she pressed.
Eden shook her head, still not meeting Genevieve's searching gaze. "It's nothing for you to worry about. I'll do better tomorrow, I promise."
