False Lines (Blurred Lines Volume 7)
False Lines (Blurred Lines Vol. 7)
Copyright © 2013 Breena Wilde
Kindle Edition
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All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written consent of the author, Breena Wilde, P.O. Box 1408 Bountiful, UT 84011.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the creation of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover design by:
Steven Novak
Interior design by:
Novel Ninjutsu
Edited by:
Clean Leaf Editing
This volume is dedicated to everyone who’s ever lost someone they love and to those who know that they’ll never really leave us. They’re forever in our hearts.
One John disappeared, shattering her already fragile heart. The other wants to pick up the pieces.
Will Cadence be able to find happiness, or is it back to hooking full time?
I wake to an empty bed. Stretch. Open my eyes to the light shining in through the window. And that makes me sad, because I’m remembering my brother. There won’t be any more sunrises for him. No more morning coffee. No more living. He’s dead. I buried him.
And it fucking hurts.
Guilt eats me up, swallows me like a hungry monster. I know that’s how his addiction treated him. He had no control. All he had was his next fix. His addiction was an unforgiving disease. I can’t help but wonder if there was something I could’ve done differently, a choice I should’ve made that would’ve kept him alive. I can’t think of one. He wanted to be fucked up. It suppressed his pain, took away the anger and hate he felt for my parents. He blamed them for his shitty life. He chose not to live. The only one who suffered was him. And me.
Fuck!
I pull the pillow over my head, blocking out the sun, wishing I could block out the pain.
He fucked up his life all by himself. Sure, I could blame my parents, too. They weren’t great. In fact, they were the opposite of great. But at some point I have to take responsibility for my life. I choose to live, to survive. Up until a couple of months ago that meant fucking men for money. Somehow I hadn’t allowed that part of my life to take over. My brother needed to do that too. Only he never did. I can’t blame him. And I know I shouldn’t blame myself either.
I pull John’s pillow to my body. It smells like his soap and aftershave and I inhale deeply, wishing he were here, wishing his mouth would cover mine and our tongues would entwine as well as our bodies. Then I could forget for a while. I could be engulfed in pleasure instead of the fucking all-consuming pain.
John is back at work. Filming is proceeding as scheduled. Scarlett is doing all her own scenes. It turns out she didn’t like the way everyone raved about the scene John and I did together. She believes she can do better. Highly unlikely, but I’m happy she’s decided to give it a shot. Shining in front of the cameras isn’t my thing. It’s John’s. And I’m cool with that. He’s good at it.
I’m meeting him on set today after I stop in at the office. The other partners in Zane’s production company were skeptical of me and my role in the company at first, but we’ve come to an understanding. They’ve seen I have a knack for it. This job is exciting—much more exciting than prostitution.
Three days after Zane left I went to the police station and picked up the money and all of the paperwork regarding Zane’s house, his production company, and my brother’s information. The officer who returned everything to me seemed shocked at the turnaround time.
I’d taken the million-dollar check to the bank and opened an account, then was informed it would be two weeks before I could access it because they needed to make sure the check cleared.
Cruze says I can stay with him as long as I like. It’s been fun living in the hotel. Cruze is a good lover. A good man. It’s obvious he has feelings for me.
I’m still not sure how I feel about him. I mean, I like him, sure. But between my brother dying and Zane leaving, my emotions are all over the place.
I get up, go to the bathroom, and turn on the water in the shower. After I pee I get in, allowing the hot water to beat against my head and shoulders. It’s relaxing, but it’s when I’m alone like this that thoughts of Zane pull at my heart.
He’d called me while I was at the gravesite.
“We’re meant to be together. Our bodies. Our hearts. Our souls. You know that.”
Did I?
The last time we were together fills me up with desire. It makes my pussy wet. I can’t help but groan. I fucking want him. I want him to slide his huge cock inside me. I want to come undone around him. But it isn’t possible. He’s gone. He left and I’m with Cruze now.
I sense things aren’t right with Cadence. Last night while we fucked her body responded, but her mind was elsewhere. I know she’s just been through a horrible time. Burying a brother can’t be easy. But I get the feeling that isn’t why she wasn’t all there. I tried to ask her but she just kissed me harder. That fucking John Zane is my competition kills me. I want to tell her about all the rumors, all the crazy fucked up shit Zane’s known to do. Before we went to sleep I almost did. But I don’t know that it’ll do any good.
Growing up my home life wasn’t the greatest, but I got out a lot faster than she did. I started acting. I became famous. The life I live now makes what I went through almost seem like a dream. I try not to think about it because letting my mind go there brings up shit I’d rather not deal with.
What I have now is great. I fucking worked my ass off to get here. Do I regret fucking the casting director to get my first gig? No. Do I regret screwing over several friends to get a part I wanted? Hell no. It happened when I first started in this business. It’s cutthroat and I’m a fast learner.
Where I’m at is where I belong. I know that. And I want to tell Cade that I understand, that fucking for money is something I’ve done too, just in a different way. But I can’t. I don’t know why.
“Mr. Cruze, you’re wanted on the set,” a female stagehand says, knocking on the door to my dressing room.
“I’ll be right there.”
I stand, check my reflection one last time, and head out. Today I’m filming two scenes with Scarlett. The first scene is one where we destroy the bad guy after he’s possessed Scarlett’s character. The second is the scene I shot with Cadence, the one where she and I fucked in front of everyone.
I’ve psyched myself up for it. Over the years I’ve learned the best way to make a love scene work is to create a connection, because no matter how incredible the writing, the setting, or the costume design, if the chemistry between the actors isn’t there, then the movie will flop. Moviegoers can sense it; like a bloodhound on the scent of an escaped convict, they can tell when the actors are faking it.
When I first came to Hollywood, my agent got me two speaking roles on two different movies—at the same time. I totally felt cool and, while neither movie launched my career, I learned a lot. One movie was a romantic comedy with two high profile actors. Off screen the two of them got along really well. They were obviously friends and even flirted with each other. As soon as the cameras started to roll, their sexual tension fizzled. It was like watching a train wreck.
The other film I worked on was a dramatic musical. The actors playing the main characters were also high profile—both married to different people. On set, between takes, they barely spoke. But on screen, when the cameras began to roll… Holy shit! The two of them together were fire and sex and desire. The chemistry was so powerful everyone on set felt it and that raw attraction crossed onto the big screen easily.
I got brave at the wrap party and asked him how he did it, how he could create so much sexual tension with someone he barely knew outside of work. He’d smiled and given me a priceless piece of advice. He said,
“When the cameras are rolling, your love interest is your soul mate. She’s everything to you. Nothing and no one else matters, and I mean no one. Not your spouse, not your girlfriend, not your family. It’s only her. Always and forever. Understand?”
I’d nodded and taken that advice to heart.
And as I walk toward the set and see Scarlett in her sheer robe, nothing and no one else matters. It’s Scarlett. She’s it for me. Always and forever.
