Page 23 of The Viper
Franklin’s voice dropped, low enough that I had to strain to hear over the hum of the set. “We’ve got a problem,” he said. “One of my actors is … a loose cannon. Talented, don’t get me wrong, but unpredictable. I can’t afford a single cock-up right now. The studio’s breathing down my neck. They’ll go ballistic if this spirals.”
Before I could ask who, the world shifted. Like a breath of fresh air cutting through the chaos, Lexi Montgomery walked by, trailed by a small entourage—makeup, wardrobe, assistants buzzing around her like bees. Her blonde hair was loose now, catching the sunlight, her face bare except for a hint of gloss. She wore a sundress, simple but clinging in a way that made my pulse kick.
Our eyes met, and the shock hit me like a bullet—sharp, sudden, numbing my hands. Her gaze widened, recognition flashing, but she covered it fast, her lips curving into a demure smile that didn’t reach her eyes. I saw the fire behind it, the same spark I’d caught last night. She wasn’t just stunning; she was a force, and she was pissed.
Franklin snapped his fingers, waving her over. “Lexi! Come here a sec.”
She hesitated, then glided toward us, her entourage trailing. Noah’s eyebrow twitched, just a fraction, and I knew he hadn’t been fully briefed either. Whatever this was, we were both wading into it blind.
“Lexi, these gentlemen are from Dominion Hall,” Franklin said, his tone too bright, like he was selling something. “After last night’s … mishap, they’ve agreed to help the studio. Provide you with around-the-clock security.”
Her smile held, but I saw the tension in her jaw, the way her fingers curled at her sides. She wasn’t some damsel who needed babysitting, and the idea clearly set her teeth on edge. It pissed me off, too. I wasn’t a goddamn nanny. Fuck her and her beauty—she didn’t get to make me feel like a hired hand.
But that spark, that storm in her eyes, was pulling me in again, and I hated how it made my blood hum.
“Wonderful,” Lexi said, her voice smooth as silk, but I caught the edge. She glanced at me, her gaze lingering a beat too long, and I felt it—that same electric jolt from the bar. “I appreciate the studio’s … concern.”
Franklin, oblivious to the undercurrent, clapped his hands. “Great! You two have ten minutes to get acquainted before the next take.” He smirked, adding, “Keep it professional, yeah?” before turning back to his monitor, already barking at an assistant about angles.
Noah gave me a look—half apology, halfroll with it—before stepping away to talk to a production assistant. Lexi’s entourage hovered, uncertain, until she waved them off with a practiced flick of her hand. They scattered, leaving us alone in the middle of the chaos.
I stood there, my feet planted on the walkway, the marsh air thick with salt and tension. Lexi crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. “You,” she said, low enough that only I could hear. “The guy from last night.”
“Lucas,” I said, keeping my voice even. “And you’re welcome.”
Her lips twitched, not quite a smile. “I didn’t ask for a bodyguard.”
“And I didn’t ask to be one,” I shot back. “But here we are.”
She studied me, her gaze sharp, like she was peeling back layers. “Why’d you do it? Step in like that?”
I shrugged, my hands in my pockets to keep them still. “I told you last night.”
She didn’t buy it, but she didn’t push. Instead, she glanced at the set, the crew bustling around us, and her shoulders softened a fraction. “This is a mess,” she muttered. “Last night’s already everywhere. Now this?”
“Sounds like you’re used to messes,” I said, my tone lighter than I felt.
Her eyes snapped back to mine, a spark of defiance there. “You have no idea.”
I held her gaze, feeling that pull again, like a tide dragging me under. She wasn’t just a star; she was a puzzle, one I didn’t have time to solve but couldn’t stop studying.
The set noise faded for a moment—the shouts, the hum of the wind machine, the creak of the dock. It was just her, me, and the weight of whatever this was.
“So,” she said, breaking the silence. “What’s your deal, Lucas? You don’t strike me as the babysitting type.”
“I’m not,” I said, my voice low.
Her eyebrows lifted, but she didn’t flinch. “And yet you’re here, playing security for a loose cannon.”
I snorted. “Franklin’s words, not mine.”
She smirked, and damn if it didn’t hit me like a punch. “He’s not wrong,” she said. “I don’t play by their rules either.”
“Good,” I said before I could stop myself. “Rules are overrated.”
Her laugh was soft, almost reluctant, but it warmed the air between us. For a second, I forgot the set, the job, the questions still burning in my skull about Dominion Hall and Noah’s cryptic mission. It was just her, those eyes, and the way she made the world feel sharper.
“Ten minutes is up!” Franklin’s voice cut through, sharp and impatient. “Lexi, we need you in wardrobe. Lucas, stick close.”
