Page 67 of Howl for Me
I lean forward, snatch the rolled-up bill, and help myself. “Don’t mind if I do.”
The burn hits sharp, nostrils flaring. Just what I need, a boost of energy, a spike of clarity, my edge sharpened. Hector mumbles something about me being late again, but says he’ll call whatever dame back and we’ll still get the scene done today. He picks up the phone and makes the call.
I glance at Cassidy and offer her the dollar, lifting a brow. “Want a bump?”
She just stares. Big blue eyes, pulse jumping under her throat like a rabbit in a trap. “No, thanks.”
“So, you don’t perform,” Hector says the minute he ends the call, voice slick like motor oil. “But I think I’ve got the perfect job for you.”
Cassidy blinks, posture all polite interest and suspicion. Smart girl to be suspicious of him.
“Would you consider yourself punctual? You know, on time, ready to roll?” He grins. “Are you organized? I see you didn’t touch the tray, so I’m guessing you’ve got your head on straight?”
That smirk on Hector’s face? I know it too well. He’s cooking something up, and it sure as hell involves her. I’ve known this demon for decades, long enough to smell a scheme from a mile away. But whatever this one is, it ain’t my problem.
I lean back on the couch, watching her nod like a good student and answer every question with a clear, steady voice. It’s a shame she’s not a performer because she has that innocent, pretty quality that sets her apart. She’s nothing like the others, the women around here who trade fast talk for quick highs and even faster cash. Don’t get me wrong, they’re beautiful, powerful, and untouchable, but they live fast.
Cassidy seems nothing like that. She’s different, and I can tell. She feels like slow mornings, fresh coffee, and sunlight filteringthrough soft curtains. I can picture myself tangled in her thighs, letting the day stretch out and crawl by.
Fuck. What the hell is wrong with me?
I rub my chest where the ache has returned, low and hot and unwelcome. It started the moment her scent invaded my space. It has to be heartburn; there’s no way in hell it’s that. I stand and walk over to the desk. Hector doesn’t look up, only shifts enough for me to open the top drawer. I grab the bottle, shake out two chalky antacids, and toss them back like shots.
“You’ll be our star actor’s assistant,” Hector says. “Make sure he gets to set on time and keeps his nose clean. That sort of thing. He’s on thin ice, and I need someone with your kind of fire to keep him in check.”
I almost choke on the chalky tablets. Excuse me?
My eyes go wide, and I slam the drawer shut with more force than necessary.
“So you're saying I’m going to be a babysitter?” She asks.
My mouth falls open for a moment. Rude, “He said, assistant,” I say, already annoyed. “Not a babysitter. A lot of actors have assistants, you know.”
She rolls her eyes again. That’s twice in ten minutes, a sassy little habit of hers. Why is that sexy?
“Sure,” she continues, voice syrupy-sweet with bite, “but most assistants aren’t hired because the actors can’t get their shit together. They help with workload and scheduling. Not damage control. Sounds to me like your star actor is a little full of himself.”
The audacity of this woman.
I feel my lip curl before I can stop it, a growl starting to rumble in my chest.
Hector jumps in, playing with fire. “Oh, he is. Diva in every damn way.”
A growl rips out of me before I can choke it down, low and rough, straight from the chest. Her eyes go wide at the sound, and for a second, I can smell the fear on her.
Good.
“Watch it, Hector,” I snap, voice like ice cracking. “You’re this close to me walking.”
I storm back toward the sofa, all wolf and thunder, and drop down beside my new assistant. Like hell, I will run her off so fast.
“You and I both know you’re not going anywhere, Johnny,” Hector says, voice calm but cutting. “The only reason I haven’t taken your soul yet is because you make me a hell of a lot of money. But don’t forget, if you walk, I take it.”
I growl again, deep and deliberate. I don’t give a shit how uncomfortable it makes her. Let her squirm. Her fear smells even better, and I cover my nose with my hand, then rub furiously, trying to get the smell of her out.
“Souls?” she asks, voice cracking just a little. “Wait… you’re not the actor, right?”
I flash a wide, toothy grin. “Full-of-himself star actor. Nice to meet you.” I throw out my hand like a game show host introducing the next contestant. She doesn’t take it. Instead, she stares for a beat, then jerks upright and steps back, eyes fixed on me like I just grew claws. I glance down, just to make sure they’re still hidden.
