I followed Reese towards the water.
Chapter Twenty-Four
A few paces ahead of me, Reese sat grumpily on a log.
It was a comical sight to see, like some kind of weird stock photo. He was a tall, modelesque man in a business suit, sitting on a log on an empty beach in the sunset.
If I wasn’t so afraid of his wrath, I’d laugh.
Nevertheless, my better judgment failed me and I sat down on the log next to him.
“How are you doing?” I asked, looking out at the sea.
“Bloody awful, what do you think?” he snapped.
“You want me to leave?” I asked tentatively.
He was quiet, and then I stood up.
“Stay,” he commanded.
I sat back down. “If you want me to stay, you can’t take this out on me,” I said.
“I can bloody damn well take it out on you if I want!” he said.
I looked into his steely gray eyes with fortitude. “It isn’t even about me. It’s about what Rachel’s husband has on you, isn’t it?”
Reese went white and his jaw got a little stiffer. “What do you know?”
“I’ve heard some rumors,” I bluffed.
Reese snorted. “What’s going around now?”
“I don’t know the details, I’ve just heard rumors,” I said vaguely.
“Who did you hear it from?”
I was beginning to make up a lie, because I even though Alina and I were in a fight, I couldn’t throw her under the bus. But Reese saved me the trouble.
“…doesn’t matter,” he said with a sigh. His shoulders finally relaxed. “This whole project is turning into a shit show.”
“I thought it was going well,” I said, my eyebrows coming together. It was only a few weeks ago when I first saw Reese on this beach, giving that impassioned speech about how we were all a symphony of art or whatever.
Reese ran his hand through his hair, then said, “The only thing good that’s come from this location is the producers letting me put you in the show,” he said.
I bit my lip, trying not to glow at his compliment.
“Everything else is a load of bollocks. I have a sodding rock star with no interest in being here contaminating my art. A mediocre actress playing one of my lead parts while her husband holds a bloody gun to my head. A pretty boy with connected parents is running around spreading rumors and making it so no one on the set trusts each other. It’s maddening!”
He leaned forward and grabbed fistfuls of his hair.
“And then we only have four days left at this location, and too many scenes to still shoot here. We don’t even have costumes… where the bloody hell has Oliver been?!”
I bit my lip as a pang of guilt wormed its way into my mind. “I know he’s working on them,” I offered.
“He’s a goddamn disaster,” Reese said harshly, throwing a shell into the waves.
“He does good work though,” I said pragmatically. That was surprising— was I defending Oliver? When I closed my eyes, I could still see that silvery tear running down his face.
“He does,” Reese agreed. “I just wish he’d let me help him…”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“He’s got what we call an ‘artist problem,’” Reese explained. “I’ve tried to hire him some assistants to do some of the more grunt sewing work, but he won’t accept it. He insists on doing it all himself. It’s an ego problem.”
I sat there, thinking. Maybe that’s why Oliver was so stressed? He was purposefully sabotaging himself if he single-handed planned on doing all of the costume work for The Black Castle.
“How do you know it’s an ego problem?” I asked, trying to keep Reese talking.
The more he talked, the more he seemed to calm down. What had been a man filled with a red-hot rage a few moments ago was now dulled to a quiet simmer.
“Because I used to be the same way,” he said with a far-off look on his face. “Until… until something changed.”
My curiosity was piqued. “What was that?”
“Something happened that made me realize that I need people. As much as I want to believe it, I can’t do anything great on my own.”
“What happened?” I asked, excited to see the real Reese. The one hiding under all of the layers of power and control.
“That’s a story for another day,” he said elusively.
I watched as his Adam’s apple bounced in his neck. All I wanted to do was run my tongue along it…
“Hey,” called a voice from behind us.
I recognized its melodic timbre before I even turned around.
Crimson Sin was standing behind us with his arms crossed. His face pulled into a grin.
“Ah, our fearless leader,” Crim said with a smile.
Like watching a chameleon change colors, I watched as Reese changed his demeanor. He stood up to face Crim, matching his pose.
“Crimson Sin,” Reese said, all business. “Welcome to the set.”
There was a coolness to his tone that was impossible to miss.
It only seemed to delight Crim more; his purple eyes were dancing with a mischievous power. “Couldn’t be happier to be here,” he said with a smirk. “Can’t wait to give a stunning performance.”
Reese’s smile faltered. “I’m excited to see what you contribute to the show.”
“Looking forward to it,” Crim said brightly. “I was hoping to talk to Charlie alone.”
A question mark rose on my face. What could he possibly want to talk about?
Regardless, there was some kind of weird standoff happening between Reese and Crim. Both of them were smiling a little too big, their eyes locked onto each other's: Purple to gray.
After a beat of silence, Reese said, “Very well, then,” and began walking back towards the set.
Crim sat down in his place.
“What… what happened there?” I asked, feeling like I’d just missed something.
Crim shrugged and crossed his legs, but I couldn’t miss the smile lurking at the corners of his mouth.
“People like to play weird little power games. Especially people with power. Starboys like Reese are no different.”
“Star… boy?” I asked, my eyebrow going up.
Crim scooted next to me and draped his arm
