Page 61 of Shadows of Stardust

“An opportunity. Something to keep as many producers busy as possible, so there’s less chance someone will notice we’re missing.”

“Something like… what?”

I shrug. It’s the one factor in all of this I have little control over, but that doesn’t mean I’m any less confident in our ability to get it done.

“We’ll know it when we see it.”

That answer doesn’t seem to inspire much confidence in Roslyn. And I can hardly blame her. With a reunion with her sister on the line, I can imagine her impatience to get out and start looking.

“A break in production,” I explain. “A shooting schedule that takes multiple producer teams to different locations. Some kind of weather event that slows everything down for a few hours.”

Roslyn catches her bottom lip between her teeth as she nods, more of those little furrows appearing on her forehead.

My attention is unwillingly drawn to that lip, to those teeth, to the memory of having both pressed to my own mouth, and I quickly look away.

Fates, I’ve barely even begun to contemplate what this new dynamic between us will mean for our ruse with production.

Will it be better, or worse, that we aren’t constantly butting heads?

I’d like to think the former, but now that we aren’t entirely at odds, I can’t say for certain.

We trust each other… in so far as we’re willing to believe we can use each other to get what we want.

We’re working together… but only as long as we’re both getting something out of this.

We need each other… at least until we achieve our ends or filming wraps, whichever comes first.

Perhaps pretending will have been easier when we disliked each other, mistrusted each other, wanted to believe the worst in each other. If there was ever any chemistry between us, perhaps it was only a trick of anger and frustration and the need to gain the upper hand.

“Okay,” Roslyn says warily, interrupting that train of thought. “So, we wait. And when the time is right…”

“When the time is right, we find your sister.”

I think it’s hope, this time, in her expression. Or at least I’d like to pretend it is.

And perhaps I shouldn’t be making so close a study of her, now that we’re more firmly on the same side in all of this, but I can’t help myself.

With each small, subtle movement of her face, her body, I catalog and tuck the details away.

The widening of her gaze, the hitch of her breath, another flare of color on her cheeks and a slight sheen of dampness in her eyes that she quickly blinks away.

Fascinating, all her tells.

So many minute details, so many expressions to explore.

“And until then,” I say, making myself stop cataloging and turning back to the conversation at hand. “We continue as we have been.”

“Continue as we have been,” she says with a soft, humorless chuckle. “And that would be…?”

“In love, of course. Perfectly happy, if any of the producers care to ask.”

Another laugh, and a roll of her eyes that loosens a bit more of the tension in the air. “There’s still the whole problem of, you know, fooling the entire sector into thinking we actually like each other.”

“A minor problem. Insignificant, really.”

“Is that right?” Her arms drop from where they’re crossed over her chest to brace on her hips.

“Yes,” I tell her, entirely overconfident in that assertion. “That’s right.”

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