Read Online Total Trainwreck by Evie Claire - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Evie Claire
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whiskey. “You don’t want to know.”
“Yes, I do.”
“He inquired after the number of nominations it would take to get you in bed,” Spence says through a devilish smile from behind his glass, his focus straight ahead on the man’s back. I choke on my vodka water and shoot daggers at the man’s head disappearing into the crowd. Typical. All men like that ever care about is fucking the talent. I roll my eyes and wish Maria were here to share my disdain. I wanted her here, but the studio’s PR tyrant had a damn coronary at the suggestion.
Where the hell is he? The instructions were clear—all cast members were to be on the boat by seven sharp. Every time the elevator door rolls open my head snaps to attention, expecting it to be him. It’s eight and the deck is too damn crowded for me to see.
This was supposed to be an intimate gathering. Fifty guests later, the top deck is at capacity. One deck below, the pool is covered with thick, clear plastic. Beanbag chairs in the party’s colors of white, ivory and sage face a gigantic screen stretched across an exterior cabin wall. Blankets, champagne buckets, popcorn bowls and trays of hand-rolled Cubans line the aisles. I’ve never been to one of these parties, but I can’t imagine it gets much cooler.
Evening has fallen into night. Lights dot a distant shoreline. Warm breezes waft up from the inky water, bringing with them the sea’s sweet saline scent. It’s enough to calm the iron butterflies battering my poor stomach. I’ve been on pins and needles waiting for him to show. Maybe he isn’t coming. The thought makes my heart hurt. For days I’ve awaited his response to my demand. Nothing. This morning, faced with the reality of silence possibly being his answer, all I could think about was how badly I want to be in his arms. I ache for it. To feel the fire only his touch brings. To hear his voice slide wickedly into my ear. To know the bliss of his body melting into mine. The thoughts alone start my pulse racing.
I close my eyes, trying my damnedest to let the vodka do my thinking for me. When I open them she’s there. Leaning heavily on the bar, staring me down through glassy eyes like she’s about to pounce.
Heather Troy, trying to appear all innocent and pure in a flowing white dress and upswept hair. She fails miserably. A woman like her can never look innocent. Calculating, yes. Innocuous, no. I stare back, refusing to give an inch. The memory of our last meeting fuels my hatred. At the gala, she had the audacity to act like I was nothing more than an annoying fly she needed to swat away. That stung like hell.
Now? She’s sizing me up, which gives me the tiniest hope that maybe all isn’t lost where her tabloid husband is concerned. But, where is he?I’m on my tiptoes peeking over the crowd when I hear him.
“Spencer.” Devon’s voice rings clear as a bell behind me. I spin on my heels so fast I nearly fall over. He’s smoking hot. Like sex-god-of-the-seven-seas hot. A crisp white button-down hangs open at the neck under a soft blue-gray twill blazer. Salt-and-pepper hair, moody blue eyes and five o’clock shadow perfection. He’s enough to make me open-mouth gawk. How does he get hotter every time?
Devon extends his hand to Spence but his eyes are firmly on me. My scalp prickles under the attention of his navy stare. It’s intense, hard and bold as hell. The kind of stare a man gives when he’s claiming something. My breath quickens and I lick my lips. I have to look away.
“Thank you for hosting our screening.” Devon snaps his gaze quickly to Spence and gives a forced smile once he’s done eye fucking me. The dank scent of scotch lifts off him in the breeze.
“You’re welcome. But I think we both know there’s only one reason why I’m hosting another studio’s screening.” Spence wraps his arm around my back, pulling me in close and trailing his hand along my naked ribs. Devon’s gaze falls to me again and his eyes
“Yes, I do.”
“He inquired after the number of nominations it would take to get you in bed,” Spence says through a devilish smile from behind his glass, his focus straight ahead on the man’s back. I choke on my vodka water and shoot daggers at the man’s head disappearing into the crowd. Typical. All men like that ever care about is fucking the talent. I roll my eyes and wish Maria were here to share my disdain. I wanted her here, but the studio’s PR tyrant had a damn coronary at the suggestion.
Where the hell is he? The instructions were clear—all cast members were to be on the boat by seven sharp. Every time the elevator door rolls open my head snaps to attention, expecting it to be him. It’s eight and the deck is too damn crowded for me to see.
This was supposed to be an intimate gathering. Fifty guests later, the top deck is at capacity. One deck below, the pool is covered with thick, clear plastic. Beanbag chairs in the party’s colors of white, ivory and sage face a gigantic screen stretched across an exterior cabin wall. Blankets, champagne buckets, popcorn bowls and trays of hand-rolled Cubans line the aisles. I’ve never been to one of these parties, but I can’t imagine it gets much cooler.
Evening has fallen into night. Lights dot a distant shoreline. Warm breezes waft up from the inky water, bringing with them the sea’s sweet saline scent. It’s enough to calm the iron butterflies battering my poor stomach. I’ve been on pins and needles waiting for him to show. Maybe he isn’t coming. The thought makes my heart hurt. For days I’ve awaited his response to my demand. Nothing. This morning, faced with the reality of silence possibly being his answer, all I could think about was how badly I want to be in his arms. I ache for it. To feel the fire only his touch brings. To hear his voice slide wickedly into my ear. To know the bliss of his body melting into mine. The thoughts alone start my pulse racing.
I close my eyes, trying my damnedest to let the vodka do my thinking for me. When I open them she’s there. Leaning heavily on the bar, staring me down through glassy eyes like she’s about to pounce.
Heather Troy, trying to appear all innocent and pure in a flowing white dress and upswept hair. She fails miserably. A woman like her can never look innocent. Calculating, yes. Innocuous, no. I stare back, refusing to give an inch. The memory of our last meeting fuels my hatred. At the gala, she had the audacity to act like I was nothing more than an annoying fly she needed to swat away. That stung like hell.
Now? She’s sizing me up, which gives me the tiniest hope that maybe all isn’t lost where her tabloid husband is concerned. But, where is he?I’m on my tiptoes peeking over the crowd when I hear him.
“Spencer.” Devon’s voice rings clear as a bell behind me. I spin on my heels so fast I nearly fall over. He’s smoking hot. Like sex-god-of-the-seven-seas hot. A crisp white button-down hangs open at the neck under a soft blue-gray twill blazer. Salt-and-pepper hair, moody blue eyes and five o’clock shadow perfection. He’s enough to make me open-mouth gawk. How does he get hotter every time?
Devon extends his hand to Spence but his eyes are firmly on me. My scalp prickles under the attention of his navy stare. It’s intense, hard and bold as hell. The kind of stare a man gives when he’s claiming something. My breath quickens and I lick my lips. I have to look away.
“Thank you for hosting our screening.” Devon snaps his gaze quickly to Spence and gives a forced smile once he’s done eye fucking me. The dank scent of scotch lifts off him in the breeze.
“You’re welcome. But I think we both know there’s only one reason why I’m hosting another studio’s screening.” Spence wraps his arm around my back, pulling me in close and trailing his hand along my naked ribs. Devon’s gaze falls to me again and his eyes
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