EIGHT

EVE

My roomate lets out a low whistle. “Damn, babe. You trying to send your new boss into cardiac arrest?”

I glance in the hallway mirror, adjusting my blouse. I definitely went all out this morning.

Part of me wants to see how Ryder reacts—especially after the way he stared yesterday, like he was starving and I was the last meal on Earth.

And honestly? I wouldn’t have stopped him.

I’m in a black miniskirt, sheer pantyhose, and a crisp white blouse. After a slightly terrifying battle with Taylor’s curling iron, I managed to tame my hair into soft, shiny curls.

A swipe of red lip tint and a few coats of mascara later, I feel like a brand new woman.

Now don’t get me wrong—I’m not dressing like this for a man. This look? It’s all mine. I feel powerful, bold, electric. If Ryder loses his mind when I walk through the door at Azure-Hale Casting? That’s just the cherry on top.

Not that it'll take much. He couldn’t keep his eyes off me yesterday.

Taylor raises a brow from her spot on the couch. “You know what time you’ll be back?”

“No clue, but I’ll call. I remember the roommate rules.”

She winks. “Good. My whale’s calling in from Europe, so I might be deep in a session.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got headphones and Plan B earplugs ready to go.”

“You’re a gem, Ivy.”

Laughing, I grab her car keys from the bowl and slip out. “Have fun!”

“You too, sexy!”

It’s a good thing I left early—it takes over an hour to reach the Azure-Hale office downtown. I grab a coffee at a corner café, then make my way to the building.

It doesn’t look like much—just a big grey box with blacked-out windows. Probably a renovated warehouse. But inside?

Buzzing.

By the time I hit the top floor, the waiting area’s packed with women—maybe twenty in total. I glide past them without a second glance. Their eyes flick over me, sizing me up, assuming I’m just another pretty face here to audition.

If only they knew I’m not part of the cattle call.

I’ve seen this process a dozen times before. When I was little, Mom would drag me to her auditions if Dad was too busy directing to stay home. She even tried to push me into commercials, but I hated it. Stage fright. Shaky knees. That was never my dream.

Being the star was Annabeth’s thing. Not mine.

But the way Ryder looks at me when I walk into the casting room?

Let’s just say it makes dressing up entirely worth it.

He’s mid-conversation with a group of production guys, and he freezes the moment he sees me. Actually freezes.

“Morning, everyone,” I say, extra sweet.

One of the men steps forward, taking the tray from my hands. “Charlie Porter. Cinematography. And you are?”

“Eve Stone. Mr. Vane’s assistant.”

Charlie flashes a grin. “That right? He must’ve been confused. Looks more like he hired a runway model.”

I laugh. “Wow, that’s so cheesy I think I just developed lactose intolerance.”

“Still made you smile, didn’t it? I’ll take that as a win.”

I already like him.

Behind us, Ryder clears his throat—low, annoyed. “Eve, your seat’s here. By me.”

I obey, pulling out my notepad and pen. As I sit, his eyes sweep over me, heat burning behind them. I glance up briefly, feigning innocence. But I know exactly what I’m doing.

There’s a long pause before he speaks again.

“Send in the first girl.”

He doesn’t waste time. One by one, the actresses enter, say their names and agencies to the camera, then read from the script.

Some are clearly nervous—shifting, fidgeting, stumbling over their lines.

Ryder doesn’t say much, but his silence is loud. Cold.

“When you like one,” he murmurs close to my ear, “note it down.”

If he doesn’t like someone? No second chances. One girl doesn’t even make it through her first line before Ryder cuts her off. “Thank you. That’s enough.”

She hurries out, eyes glossy, face pale.

My chest tightens. “That was kind of brutal,” I whisper.

“She wasn’t right. I knew the second she walked in.”

I frown. “She was beautiful.”

He glances at me, unreadable. “Not the kind of beautiful I’m looking for.”

“It’s not about appearance—it’s about presence,” Ryder says, calm and unmoved.

“But her résumé is incredible,” I push back. “She had a supporting role in a Scorsese film. She’s fluent in four languages!”

He gives me a look that almost borders on amusement. I wonder if he’s mocking me. “I’m sure she’s brilliant in her own right, Eve, but I have a very distinct vision for this character.”

“So that’s it? She doesn’t even get to finish the scene? That’s harsh. She probably spent days getting ready for this.”

“Why are you taking this so personally?”

I chew the inside of my cheek, trying to figure that out myself. Maybe it’s because I’ve watched rejection crush people I love.My dad spiraled every time a producer passed on his screenplay. And Mom—God, the times she was released from a hold because a younger face popped up?

No matter how much they gave, how much they sacrificed, the outcome was never theirs to decide.

“Forget it,” I mumble, scribbling in the margins of my notepad. “I just think a little compassion wouldn’t kill you.”

Charlie chuckles beside me. “Compassion? You’re barking up the wrong tree. The boss rules with an iron jaw. Dictator-style.”

Ryder sighs, then shrugs. “Fine. Go bring her back.”

I blink. “Wait—what?”

Charlie’s brows shoot up. “You serious?”

“Before she leaves the building,” Ryder says, already turning away. “Hurry.”

I jump up and dash down the hallway. She’s just about to push through the front doors when I shout, “Wait! Please, hold on!”

She turns, sniffling, mascara smudged under her eyes. “Yes?”

“I’m so sorry,” I say, breathless. “There was a mistake. Mr. Vane would like to see you again, if that’s okay?”

She actually laughs—but not in the way I hoped. “You’ve got to be joking. I’m not going back in there. If he can’t respect me, I’m not wasting more of my time.”

I blink. “I stuck my neck out for you.”

“Oh, should I throw you a parade?” she sneers. “I’ve got a role in the next Coppola film, sweetheart. This crap? I don’t need it.” She turns on her heel and storms out with a dramatic sniff, leaving me rooted to the spot and fuming.

I tried to give her another shot. I tried to help. And she made me look like a damn idiot.

And now, I get it—what Ryder meant about essence. If she’s this impossible now, imagine her on a set. What a disaster.

I shuffle back into the casting room and sink into my chair with a groan. “She was already gone.”

Ryder raises a brow, probably knows I’m lying, but chooses to let it slide. He simply turns back to the door and says, “Next.”

I stay quiet the rest of the auditions, nursing my pride and taking notes. By lunch, I’ve memorized the entire scene from sheer repetition.

Every line, every pause, every emotional shift. Some of the actresses are all nerves, fumbling lines or whispering for a restart.

Others blaze through, totally self-possessed. But after a while, it all starts to blur together, and I still don’t have a clue what exactly Ryder is hunting for.

Out of nearly a hundred women, I’ve only written down eight names. And I’m not even sure he’s sold on those.

One actress left. My brain is mush.

Ryder leans toward me, murmurs near my ear as he taps my knee lightly. “Don’t fall asleep.”

His touch startles me. Even through the thin layer of my tights, the warmth of his palm lingers like a brand. It’s nothing—just a casual pat, like a coworker saying hang in there.

So why does my pulse skip?

I don’t have time to dwell on it because the door opens and the final actress steps in—

And my breath catches.

“Mom?” I whisper, stunned. Eyes wide. Frozen in place.

Annabeth’s expression flickers with surprise before brightening into a dazzling, over-the-top smile. She throws her arms up with a squeal and barrels toward me, pulling me into one of her suffocating hugs.

“Sweetheart!” she gushes. “What an unexpected treat! I had no idea you’d be here. How have you been? Honestly, it feels like it’s been ages. You didn’t tell me you were working with Azure-Hale.”

I try to wiggle out of her grip. No luck. “I’m not. I work for Mr. Vane.”

Ryder rises from his chair. “Annabeth.”

Her smile melts into something softer—dreamy, almost. I immediately hate the way she bites her lower lip and the blush that warms her cheeks. “Ryder,” she says, voice lighter. “It’s been too long.”

“It has,” he agrees.

“How have you been?”

He softens, and that irritates me more. “Doing well. You?”

“Great.”

I grind my teeth as the bitterness twists in my stomach. Whatever is going on between them, I don’t like it. It’s like I’ve vanished from the room. They’re talking in some kind of private code, and I’m just here, forgotten.

Look at me, not her.

“We should absolutely grab lunch sometime soon,” Annabeth says. “Wouldn’t that be lovely? Eve, you could join us. Catch up. Tell me about your job.”

I nearly gag. Annabeth and I don’t do lunch. We barely do phone calls. I haven’t seen her in… what, over a year? She didn’t even call on my twenty-first birthday. Too busy with whatever glamorous disaster she’s calling a life now.

She may have given birth to me, but this woman’s practically a stranger.

“Yeah,” I manage with forced politeness. “Sure.”

“Shall we jump into the scene?” she asks brightly. “I’m sure you’re all eager to wrap up.”

I feel a jab in my chest when Ryder smiles at her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile like that—not as my boss, anyway. Since I started working for him, it’s been all stern expressions and clipped nods. Maybe a few lingering stares, but nothing like this.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he tells her, voice unusually warm.

I slump into my chair, head spinning. Can this day get any worse?

“You okay?” Charlie leans over to whisper. “You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine,” I say, pasting on a smile. “Just tired.”

He laughs softly. “Hang in there. Almost over.”

It’s only after he leans back that I notice Ryder’s arm resting along the back of my chair—and the glare he’s shooting at Charlie.

I don’t know what his problem is, but after Annabeth’s surprise appearance, I don’t have it in me to care. She’s always had a way of throwing my whole day off balance.

Her audition goes fine. Honestly, it’s pretty good. She’s always had talent. That’s never been the issue.

It’s just… unsettling, watching her slip into the character of Juliet with such ease. A woman mourning her family and terrified of losing what’s left—her child.

Juliet is strong. Torn, but full of love. The kind of mother who would walk through fire for her kid.

I know Annabeth wouldn’t even get her heels scuffed unless there was a paycheck or photo op involved.

Once she finishes, Ryder stands. “Thank you for your time, Annabeth.”

“Thank you,” she replies with a soft laugh, her voice sugary and sweet.

It makes my skin crawl, the way she looks at him like he’s dessert.

“I’ll give you a call later, sweetheart,” she adds with a syrupy smile in my direction.

“Sure,” I mumble, fully aware she won’t.

I don’t start to breathe again until she’s out of sight, and even then, I feel like I’m barely holding it together. What began as a decent day has completely unraveled, leaving me irritable and tense.

I’m relieved when Ryder turns to me and says, “You’re free to head home.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s all I need you for today. Just type up your notes and email them to me.”

“You’re not picking anyone yet?”

“No. There’s still a process. I’ll need to review the final names with the producers, the writer, and marketing. It could take days. Weeks, even. Until then, you’re dismissed.”

Dismissed? What is this, military school?

Still, I don’t have the strength to be snarky.

“Thank you, sir,” I reply tightly, and head out the door.

When I reach the car, I let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh that echoes through the lot. Taylor’s vehicle is up on bricks—bricks—with all four tires missing.

The scene looks like something straight out of a slapstick comedy. Whoever did it clearly rushed the job, judging by the deep scrapes along the sides and a couple of bolts tossed carelessly on the ground like confetti.

"Did I offend the universe in another life?" I shout, throwing my arms up toward the sky.

Behind me, someone lets out a low whistle. I turn to see Charlie standing there, eyebrows raised.

“I’m sorry,” he says between bursts of laughter. “But this is hands-down the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Glad you’re enjoying the downfall of my sanity,” I deadpan, though a reluctant grin tugs at my lips. “Honestly, the only way this could get worse is if I got zapped by lightning.”

“Careful with that kind of talk while I’m in your blast radius,” he teases, taking an exaggerated step away for good measure.

I laugh under my breath. “Wow. You’re a riot.”

“Do you think your insurance will cover something like this?” he asks, scanning the damage.

“I hope so. But I’m not sure how much the tow’s gonna run me.” I drag my hands down my face. “Taylor’s going to murder me. I already owe her for, like, half the utilities.”

Charlie tilts his head sympathetically. “Want a ride? I can drop you off. Better than loitering in a tireless death trap.”

I’m just about to accept when another voice cuts in—low, firm, and entirely unexpected.

“She’s riding with me.”

I turn in surprise to see Ryder Vane up from behind, his hand settling lightly against the small of my back as he guides me away from Charlie like it’s already decided.

There’s no time to object, no opening for protest, and definitely no missing the tight look in his eyes.

Wait—is that jealousy?

“I’ll give you my mechanic’s number,” Ryder says, steering me toward a sleek black Ferrari I somehow missed earlier—apparently hidden in a private underground garage I didn’t even know existed. Great. Now I feel even more broke.

“They’ll tow the car and handle the repairs.”

“I... probably can’t afford their rates, Mr. Vane,” I murmur, still stunned.

“Don’t worry. Tell them I sent you. It’ll be taken care of.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You really know how to pull strings in this town, huh?”

Ryder moves ahead to open the passenger door for me, offering his hand as I sink into the luxurious leather seat.

“You have no idea,” he replies, voice smooth and unreadable.