Page 42 of Cast to be Mine

The crew broke immediately, gravitating toward the craft services table like moths to a flame. But I stayed in my chair, watching Grace descend the catwalk stairs. She was immediately surrounded.

Lisa got to her first, pulling her into a hug that made Grace laugh. Buzz clapped her on the shoulder, saying something that made her duck her head with a pleased smile. Even some of the crew members approached her.

I couldn’t hear what they were saying from this distance, but I could read the body language. Encouragement. Support. One of the grips, an older guy named Tony who’d been working sets since before I was born, leaned in close to Grace. I watched her nod, her expression shifting to something like understanding. I’d worked with Tony on other productions. He’d seen it all. He’d worked with Jack before.

Toby flopped into the AD’s chair. “Holy shit,” he said. “That was good, right?”

“Very.”

“What is it with Jack?” he asked. “Do they have beef or something?”

“You don’t need beef to be put off by the guy,” I said.

“Why did you sign him?”

“His face, his body, his fame, his wealth.” I shrugged. “He’s got the face that sells movies, and unfortunately, it’s turned him into a righteous diva. But he sells movie tickets. So what are you gonna do?”

The entertainment industry’s eternal question. It wasn’t like Jack’s diva bullshit was rare. The bigger the star, the bigger the demands.

I felt the weight of my predicament settle back onto my shoulders. I couldn’t fire Grace, not now that production was happening. And certainly not after she’d just proven she could deliver. But I also couldn’t sideline Jack Montana. You didn’t bench a superstar, even if he was a whiny diva.

The action heroes Jack played on screen were so different from the man himself. On screen, he saved the world without breaking a sweat and he looked damn good doing it. His public persona was the nice guy that was a little oafish. Off screen, he couldn’t handle a first-time actress stumbling on her lines without having a complete meltdown.

The irony would have been funny if it wasn’t threatening to tank my entire movie.

I felt the energy shift and eyes all going in one direction. I turned to see what was happening. Jack. And Chantilly walked beside him.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Jack’s wife was an influencer with millions of followers and an opinion on everything. She had the kind of aggressive energy that sucked all the oxygen out of any room she entered. Her voice carried across the soundstage before she’d even made it through the door. A voice that had your shoulders lifting to your ears. Worse than nails on a chalkboard.

“You’re the star, baby,” Chantilly said, her hand wrapped around one of Jack’s bulging biceps.

The shirt was intentionally too small to make him look even more ripped.

I watched them approach, Chantilly’s designer heels clicking against the concrete floor. She was dressed like she expected paparazzi around every corner. Full glam, tight dress, enough jewelry to fill a Tiffany’s pop-up.

A memory surfaced, and I had to smother a chuckle.

Callum. My brother Callum had gone on a date with Chantilly once, back before she’d sunk her claws into Jack. It had been a disaster of epic proportions. I remembered the story about the emergency text he’d sent to Drew. A fire alarm was pulled, and long story short, the woman that had been at a dinner meeting with Jack Montana at the same restaurant ended up marrying Callum. And Jack married Chantilly. Match made in heaven—or hell.

I pulled out my phone and fired off a quick text. Your worst date is on my set right now.

The response came almost immediately.

Callum: I was planning to come check out the production one of these days. Now I won’t go within a ten-mile radius. Good luck. You’re going to need it.

I pocketed my phone and stood, watching Jack and Chantilly make their way across the floor. Grace had noticed them too. I saw her shoulders tense slightly, saw the way her chin lifted in that stubborn way.

I needed to get to her before Jack did. I couldn’t have that fucker and his barracuda wife undoing all the progress we’d just made.

I crossed the distance quickly, intercepting Grace near the craft services table. “Hey. Got a second?”

She looked up at me, those blue eyes still bright with the adrenaline of her successful takes. “Sure. What’s up?”

I pulled her a few steps away, lowering my voice. “Listen. When you’re acting with Jack, I want to try something. I’ll stand just off camera, right behind him. And I want you to pretend he’s not even there.”

She blinked at me, those huge, beautiful eyes widening slightly. “What do you mean?”