Page 4 of False Start
“Glad you made it.” My voice was more breath than sound, but his lips tipped up in an encouraging smile as he slid into the seat next to me, forcing Denny back to his side of the booth.
“Pretend I’m not here,” Weston said with a shark-like grin as he spread his arms along the back of the booth. From the other side of the table, the move would look like a claiming. But not a single part of Weston was touching me. I snorted, covering it quickly as he cast me a curious glance. The man was a giant. Itwas a little difficult to ignore his hulking, yet completely non-threatening vibe.
Well… non-threatening to me.
“I’m confident I would be perfect for this role. You’ve seen my work before, and I’ve continued to expand my repertoire since then. I have updated headshots and availability to come to set for screen tests—”
“How long has this been going on?” Denny cut in, his gaze flicking between me and Weston.
Why did it matter if I had a boyfriend?
“Not long. We’d prefer to keep it low profile for now,” Weston said smoothly. “Georgie deserves to be recognized for her talent.”
Was he psychic, too?
Wait. Georgie?
I… didn’t hate it.
The name was juvenile, and overly familiar, and exactly what we needed to sell this relationship and the protection it seemed to provide.
“So it’s new,” Denny mused, his gaze sliding over to me once more.
“She made me work for it.” Weston sat forward in his seat, the easiness gone in an instant as he seemed to loom over the man in front of us.
“When we’re ready to announce it, the world will know we’re madly in love and very much exclusive. She’s mine. I expect that you will respect our privacy in the meantime. Right?”
The star of my nightmares shrank back in his booth. His knuckles whitened where he gripped the table and despite his submissive posture, something slimy twinkled in the back of his eyes.
“Everyone loves a love story. It would be… advantageous… for Gia to be seen as a public figure when she steps into this role.”
When? The word vibrated through me as I sat perfectly still, absorbing this interchange that was simultaneously all about, and had nothing to do with, me.
I had no idea how we’d come to this point. Who the hell was this guy?
Without moving my head, so as not to draw either man’s attention, I studied my unexpected ally. His blond hair was pulled up into a messy man bun that was oddly attractive on a man of his build. Usually, I associated the hair style with hipster men in skinny jeans, the kind who cared more about the origin of their daily roast than showering on a schedule.
Weston, however, smelled of fresh laundry sheets and something dark and woodsy. I wanted to lean closer and see if I could sniff out the name of the scent, but that would be a little weird, even if we were pretending to be in love.
“She deserves her privacy.” His brows were furrowed, like it truly mattered to him that we controlled the narrative of our relationship.
No shit, Georgia. He doesn’t want it getting out that we’re faking it.
I mentally face-palmed at my stupidity as Denny let out an unimpressed grunt.
“That’s not how show business works.”
A woman in the all-black uniform of the Bar 103 waitstaff stepped up to the table and effectively cut off the rising tension between the men.
“Can I get anything for you? Drinks? A menu?”
Denny waved her away without breaking eye contact with Weston.
“Thank you for meeting with me, Miss Kennedy. Mr. Naylor. We’ll be in touch about the final casting call by the end of the week.”
He heaved out of the booth as I reviewed the last ten minutes in a panicked rush. Had I made any kind of impression with him? Oh god. Had I messed up my chances of getting this role?
I was going to lose my apartment.
