Page 8 of Lethal Lover

“I get it, Dad,” I say through gritted teeth. “It won’t happen again.”

“See to it that it doesn’t.” He picks up his drink and downs the rest of it, then picks up his cigar and takes a drag before tapping it on the edge of the ashtray to remove the ash. “Because you can’t make mistakes that get you caught before you even become the leader. You can’t lead from prison.”

“I know,” I grind out, unable to stop the irritation from seeping into my voice.

“You’re treading on thin ice, Dominic.” His cold blue eyes meet mine, a reminder of every harsh lesson he’s ever taught me. Some of those lessons left physical scars on my body that I won't soon forget. “Don’t push your luck tonight.”

I bow my head in submission before meeting his gaze again. “Yes, sir.” Each time he says my name, though, all I can think about is hiding that identity from Elena. She needs Liam, the wealthy businessman, to charm her and seduce her until she’s eating out of his hand—my hand.

“Get out of here,” he grunts, and then he waves his hand in dismissal, and I stand and leave.

I know Dad isn’t fond of the way I do things, but my guy getting nabbed wasn’t my fault. I want Elena, and I want to keep her happy. After hearing the tinge of disappointment in her tone when she told me she didn’t get the lead on this show and it had been given to someone named Nina, I just knew I had to do something.

My driver is waiting with the car running, and I climb in with my phone already pressed to my ear, calling my top guy. Smitty will handle my next task, and this time, we won’t have any issues.

“Yeah, it’s Smitty. Go.”

“Hey, man, it’s Dom. I have a job for you…”

His task? Our lead actress will have a bit of a spill, say… a car accident. He’ll make it look like a true accident, and no one will be the wiser, and it will all go down the afternoon of opening night, right when Elena can step in as the understudy and take the role. Any woman who dates me gets top-tier treatment. That means Elena is the star and outshines them all, and anyone who tries to dim her light will find out who they’re messing with.

6

ELENA

My trembling hands grip the water glass tightly, causing ripples to form on the surface. Sweat beads on my forehead as I bring the cup to my lips, trying to steady my nerves. Liam stands over me, his concerned eyes fixed on my face like a doting lover. My mind is swirling with panic and anxiety. It's opening night, and Nina, our lead actress, was just involved in a harrowing accident. A massive truck slammed into her cab just hours ago, landing her in the hospital. And now, amid all the chaos, I have to step up as the understudy and take her place in the show. Overwhelmed doesn't even begin to describe how I feel in this moment.

“Look, baby, you’re gonna do great.” Liam stands behind me, his presence a comforting weight as he rubs my tense shoulders. I catch his reflection in the mirror in front of me, his features etched with a seriousness and intensity that mirrors the stormy weather outside. Despite his efforts, I still feel on edge, unable to relax after the exhausting day I've had.

“It’s not just the show.” I release a heavy, exhausted sigh and gently brush my hair out of my face. The hair and makeup teamhas already tended to me, but the tears that fell after they left may have caused some smudges and imperfections. I'll likely need to touch up my appearance before stepping onto the stage. My heart races with anticipation and nerves as I prepare for the curtain to rise, the weight of the upcoming performance settling on my shoulders like a heavy cloak.

“What is it, then?” He pulls up a chair and sits next to me. His cologne is intoxicating, but it’s not really enough to help me settle. A part of me just wants to escape with him and run away.

I asked Liam to come backstage before the show when he told me he bought tickets. I need him here to help me stay calm. Nina’s a good friend of mine now, one of the only few people I feel close to. And Warren isn’t any help at all. He just keeps saying “the show must go on” with a dramatic flare and thinks that’s going to encourage me. He and Nina aren’t close at all, anyway, but he could have some compassion. We all got the same announcement. She’s in critical condition at Bellevue, and they’re not taking visitors right now.

“Babe?” Liam says softly, and I meet his gaze. I don’t feel like we’re at the point of using pet names, but I think it’s sweet that he’s being romantic like that.

I don’t know how much to tell him, because I don’t know how much is normal. Warren says getting loads of fan mail and even hate mail is typical for someone who’s on stage, but the letters I got today make me feel scared. Someone doesn’t like me at all. Part of me thinks it’s Trixie just being a bitch, but I can’t see why she’d feel so intimidated that she’d threaten me.

“It’s, uh…” I stammer, averting my eyes. I feel ashamed that I’m frightened by mail. I wonder if the greats like Ethel Merman and Julie Andrews got hate mail.

“I’m really sorry for what happened to your friend.” He brings my hands to his lips and kisses them. He does that a lot. I don’t mind it, but it’s not comforting to me right now. “Things like that happen all the time in the city.”

My lip quivers. I feel it shaking. I feel stupid that it’s shaking but I don’t feel like this is normal. “This is the second very strange and somewhat scary thing that has happened since I got here.” I bite the inside of my lip to stop the tremor and sigh through my nose.

“Second?” he asks, screwing his face up in confusion. Liam is charming and charismatic, but I feel like he’s either purposefully forgetting the director’s attack or he’s callous and ignorant of things. I can’t believe he’s that callous.

“Yes, Nina and the director…” Thankfully, Mr. Monroe has only a mild concussion. Whoever attacked him was only an amateur, someone needing cash fast or something. They didn’t wear a mask, which made it easy for the police to track them down. The man is going to spend ninety days in jail. I think it’s ridiculous. That’s not enough time for what he did. Mr. Monroe could’ve died.

“Look, baby, those were just random things that happen in the city. Things like that happen all the time in New York. You can’t let those deter you from being a star.” Liam pushes the hair out of my eyes and tucks it behind my ear, then wipes at what I can only assume is a mascara line from crying. “I’m gonna go take my seat. I’ll come back at intermission. You’re going to do great. Break a leg.”

I nod as he stands, but I don’t respond. That expression has always annoyed me. Now, more than ever, I feel like breaking aleg is the least of my worries. If I’m supposed to feel encouraged by that, then he’s a failure at lifting my spirits.

Liam leaves my dressing room, and seconds later, the stagehands come to call me for the opening scene. I lean into the mirror and powder my face and reapply my mascara. My makeup isn’t as messed up as I thought it would be, so there isn’t much touchup. And while I don’t feel entirely equipped to take the stage in Nina’s place—I’ve never actually gone on stage as an understudy—the show really must go on. If I don’t go out there and take her part, my days on Broadway are done, and I need this job.

The house lights go down and the curtain rises, and I take the stage feeling nauseous and intimidated. No one expects the understudy, but here I am. I hear the soft murmurs as I speak the first lines. No one knows what’s even happened to Nina yet. I’m sure they will make an announcement, either at intermission or at curtain calls. I do my best, singing my heart out and trying to remember all the blocking. Understudies don’t usually get to rehearse the full scenes.

My coordination with the rest of the cast is clunky and awkward, but I do what I can. When I forget a few of my lines, they have to be fed to me. I hope none of the audience members realize my mistake. I know there’s a critic in the audience again tonight, and I’m not supposed to be in this role. After the negative review a few weeks ago, I feel nervous that I may receive another one. But everyone claps at intermission, and I flee, heading back to my dressing room to hide and shake off the nerves.

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