Page 85 of Breaking Free

Piper:I’ll try, but you might as well ask me to juggle flaming torches while riding a unicycle.

He hadn’t replied when someone shut the door and the room quieted. She dashed off another text to justify the first.

Piper: I saw that at the circus when I was a kid and tried it. Epic fail! The unicycle part—not the torches.

She added a flame and screaming emoji before sending. Then she immediately regretted the emojis. He already thought she was too young for him. No sense proving it. And for land’s sake, why had she mentioned unicycles and torches?

She pulled up the menu to delete the message, but it was too late. His next message came through.

Tristan:Relax, Piper. Christian has your back.

She was trying to think how to respond without embarrassing herself further. But the last woman in had moved to the head of the table and took a seat.

“Welcome all. I’m Melanie Stansbury, supervising producer on our little project. I’ll be running the read-through today in Hunter’s absence. Let’s take it from the top of episode one.”

Piper put her phone away. Any response and attempts to un-dork herself would have to wait. She flipped to page seven in the script with everyone else.

Despite her inner turmoil, she tried to act confident and read her lines like a professional who had done this before instead of the newbie she was. Everyone in the cast was not only friendly but also incredibly supportive, making her feel welcomed and putting her at ease. As the story unfolded, she found herself captivated by the cast’s interpretation of the characters, their passion shining through in every scene.

All except her costar and love interest in the story. Dirk Henderson—a fake name if she’d ever heard one—was as demanding as he was annoying. He came in an hour late and, while reading, stopped after every other line for direction.

What’s his motivation? How is he feeling? Shouldn’t he react this way instead of that?

It became immediately apparent to her and everyone else as he tripped over his lines that he’d never cracked open the script. He brought down the mood of the entire room.

Inhaling deeply, Piper reminded herself to be patient; it was all part of the job.

She was glad she didn’t have to drive home—the trying afternoon made longer than it had to be, thanks to Dirk. Christian got the privilege of battling rush hour traffic while she dozed beside him.

Although the heat wave had lost some of its punch, it hadn’t completely gone away. As a result, the air-conditioning in thestudio struggled to do the job. Or it could have been because of Dirk constantly spouting hot air. Regardless, she refused to be frizzy and sweaty when Tristan arrived. She headed upstairs to shower and change as soon as Christian completed his security sweep of her condo.

Standing beneath the spray, Piper let the cool water cascade down her body, washing away the stress of the day.

Dressing casually in shorts and a cap-sleeve T-shirt, her still-damp hair caught up in a ponytail, she listened for sounds from downstairs. Once giving the all clear, Christian had turned the TV on low in the living room. But she heard nothing now.

Piper moisturized with Gingham, a blend of freesia, white peach, and clementines from B&BW—her favorite—rubbing it on her legs, arms, and neck, then gave her lashes a swipe of mascara, her only makeup, before going downstairs to see why it was so quiet.

THE POLICE TAPE WASgone, the all clear given for Piper to return home. Christian had passed the news on to him, so when he arrived, Tristan went directly to her place and used her passcode to let himself in. He’d had a busy day, driving to Fullerton, Long Beach, and all the way to Oceanside, but was still early relieving the day shift.

His perseverance locating a defense witness who didn’t want to be found had paid off. Thinking his leads had sent him on a wild goose chase, he was about to head back and catch some much-needed shut-eye when he made one last sweep of the parking lot and—bingo.

Thirty-eight-year-old personal assistant Sharon Chesterfield was running scared, and Tristan didn’t blame her. The man she had the goods on, not her boss but her boss’s boss and CFO of the multimillion-dollar venture capital firm, was a powerfulman. At first, her only answers wereno commentandI know nothing. Then it turned to, “I’m afraid for my family.”

That, Tristan could work with.

He made a few phone calls, arranged for protection, and was on his way back to LA by noon with a recorded statement and solid evidence. Sharon, who had grown suspicious months before the arrest, had collected photographic proof that she still had on her iPhone. It turned out, the CFO was funneling millions into an offshore account, leaving Sharon’s boss, who she insisted was a decent guy, to take the fall. The prosecutor would have no option but to dismiss the case and charge the true culprit.

After meeting with the attorneys and handing over the evidence, he arrived home in time to get his standard three hours of sleep.

“How did it go today?” he asked when Christian met him in the hallway.

“No incidents,” he replied. “It was my first table read, so it was interesting, at least. But keep a close eye on Dirk, the male lead. The guy’s a fucking asshole.”

“Toward Piper?” His hackles went up instantly.

“Toward everyone,” Christian clarified. “I’m heading out.”

“Thanks for covering.”

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