Page 5 of Savage Truce

The actress isn’t my type at all. I’ve always preferred women with more meat on their bones, and I’m not into fucking around just to get off.

“Not interested.” When I rise to my feet, the guy quickly takes a few steps to the side, then his eyes widen slightly because he has to tilt his head way back to look up at me.

I adjust my jacket, and as I fasten the button, the damn thing pops loose and falls on the floor.

“Dammit!”

I’m going to kill the tailor. Not only is the jacket too tight, but it’s falling apart.

The guy darts forward, picks up the button, and holds it out to me. “We h-have a seamstress b-backstage who can sew it b-b-back on for you.”

I think about it for a second or two before nodding. “Thanks. I’d appreciate it.”

He gives me a nervous smile as he begins to walk toward the side door. “I’m Oliver.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and he reminds me a lot of Artem.

Softening my tone so I don’t make him more anxious, I say, “Lead the way.”

As he walks ahead of me, he keeps glancing back, and when we head down a corridor, a man sees me coming and steps back into an open doorway.

Coming around a corner, I notice a group of people, then a woman makes a beeline for me.

Fuck. Sofia.

The lead actress flashes me a flirty smile as if I’m some fucking prize she’s won. She reaches for my arm, but I step away before she can touch me.

Her features tighten for a second, then she says, “I’m so glad you accepted my invite.”

With a cold tone, I reply, “I didn’t.”

This time her smile drops completely, and she frowns at me. “Then why are you backstage?” She flips her hair over her shoulder and tries again. “Join me for a couple of drinks.” Then her expression turns seductive, and her voice is annoyingly husky. “I promise I’ll make it worth your time.”

Wanting to get this over with, I adjust my wristwatch while saying, “You’re not my type.”

Her expression quickly morphs into one of pure indignation.

Before Sofia can think of a reply, I indicate for Oliver to continue walking and follow him to an open doorway. I glance into the room, which is filled with costumes and rolls of fabric, then my eyes lock on a woman.

She’s standing by one of the rails, checking a dress and other pieces that were used for the play.

I watch as she writes something on a scrap of paper before pinning it to the fabric. Her blond hair spills over her shoulders as she reaches for a pair of gloves.

My gaze burns over every curve of her body, loving how the dress cups her full breasts, giving me an eye-full of the most perfect cleavage I’ve ever seen.

God damn.

Just one look at the woman has my cock twitching because she’s fucking beautiful and exactly my type.

“Anastasia?” Oliver clears his throat when she glances at us.

While I’m entranced by her stunning features, he says, “There’s a gentleman w-who needs a b-button sewn b-b-back onto his jacket. I t-told him you w-won’t mind helping.” His face turns beet red, then he mutters, “I-I need to get b-back to work.”

He hurries down the hallway, leaving me alone with the woman.

Anastasia. The name suits her.

When I step into the room, our eyes meet for the first time. Her green irises remind me of moss, and I feel another strong pull of attraction.