Chapter 3: The Bentley Bill
Luna's POV
My heart slammed. "Regret what?"
"Ending us." Intensity poured off him. "I was a total idiot."
I forced a casual "Hmm," ignoring the pulse racing under his touch.
"There it is again—your damn 'hmms' and 'ohs.'" Frustration edged his words.
"What's left to say? We broke up. Done deal."
"Is it?" he challenged, leaning closer. "Breakups aren't set in stone."
I yanked free. "Didn't you say, and I quote, 'I ain't beggin' her ass to come back'?"
"People change." His eyes smoldered.
Desperate to pivot, I nodded at the building. "The Mayfair. You remembered."
"Course I did. We lived here in college." Another flash: sneaking into his place, keeping our fling under wraps, bodies colliding in secret.
"It's late," I said, digging out a business card. "Hit me up with the damage bill."
I bailed from the car before he could reel me back in, not daring to let him drag me into that old gravitational pull.
The next morning, I powered through the halls of Legacy Media, coffee in one hand, script folder in the other. Tina, my assistant, hustled to keep up, her face buzzing with excitement.
"Have you heard?" she panted. "The CEO's back from London! He might swing by today for an inspection. Every department's losing their minds!"
I kept striding, keeping my cool. "No reason to freak. Our stuff's solid."
"You're always so chill under pressure," Tina gushed, eyes wide with awe. "No wonder you're Legacy's rockstar screenwriter."
I glanced at my watch. "Let's hit the casting room. The actors are waiting."
I wasn't about to spill that I'd just rear-ended some guy's car last night—my ex, no less—and he was still trying to worm his way back into my life. God, my luck sucks.
In the casting studio, I parked myself next to the director, jotting notes as actors auditioned for my latest script. I leaned over to Dean Foster now and then, swapping thoughts.
"Her emotional range is killer," I whispered after the second actress wrapped. "But she doesn't nail the vulnerability. Too buttoned-up."
Dean nodded. "Yeah, we need someone who can shatter on cue."
The third actor finished strong, and I checked my watch again. "What about the last one? She's already twenty minutes late."
Dean shrugged. "Audrey Parker. Supposed to be the hot new thing. Wait or bail?"
I stood, brushing off my slacks. "We're calling it. Thanks, everyone, for bringing your A-game."
As the crew started packing gear, the doors flew open like a bad movie entrance. In strutted Audrey Parker, entourage in tow—manager, two assistants, the works. She rocked oversized shades indoors, her blonde hair styled to perfection.
"You can't be wrapping already," her manager barked. "Ms. Parker cleared her packed schedule for this!"
Audrey whipped off the sunglasses with flair, scanning the room like she owned the joint. "Sorry for the holdup, folks. Let's get this show on the road."
The crew shot awkward looks my way, waiting for my call.
Tina whispered in my ear, "Audrey Parker, total rising star. Word is her dad's got ties to the big boss. Some say she's gunning to be the next Mrs. CEO."
I kept my face neutral, but my grip tightened on the folder. Great, nepotism drama. Just what I need.
"Sorry, Ms. Parker," I said, all professional politeness. "We've wrapped today's slots. We can reschedule—"
"Do you even know who you're blowing off?" her manager cut in, all puffed up.
Audrey stepped right into my space, her pricey perfume hitting like a wall. "This audition's basically a formality, sweetie. The role's mine. I'm just doing you the favor of showing up."
I held her gaze, steady as steel. "On my projects, nothing's locked in. Parts go to the best performance, period."
Her perfect face twisted in rage. "You seriously lecturing me on how this biz works?"
"Just laying out how my gig runs," I said, not budging an inch.
She lost it completely, swinging her hand like she was gonna slap me. I caught her wrist mid-air, reflexes kicking in.
"Let go!" she screeched, yanking against my hold. "Do you have any clue who I am?"
"A spoiled diva who's twenty minutes late and thinks slapping's cool when she hears 'no'?" I fired back, cool as ice.
"CEO INCOMING!" someone yelled from the door.
The room went dead silent. Everyone froze, including me and Audrey, still tangled in our standoff.
There, framed in the doorway, stood a guy in a sharp charcoal suit that screamed power—broad shoulders, commanding vibe. His icy gaze swept the room, landing on Audrey's wrist in my grip.
Gabriel Ashford? My heart slammed against my ribs. No way. He's... the CEO? My ex—the one I'd just ditched three years—was now my boss? Holy shit, this is a nightmare.
Audrey switched gears in a heartbeat, yanking free and rushing him with big, innocent eyes. "Gabriel, thank God you're here," she whined, all soft and pitiful. "This woman—your screenwriter—she's totally abusing her power. She wouldn't let me audition and then grabbed me!"
Gabriel's face stayed stone-cold unreadable. He ignored her, zeroing in on me instead.
"You," he said, voice cool and clipped. "With me. Now."
Day one, and I'm already getting hauled in like a screw-up employee. By my ex. Fan-fucking-tastic.
I followed him out, whispers exploding behind us.
"The CEO's first drop-in, and this happens..."
"Damn, he's even hotter up close. That jawline could cut glass..."
"Heard he's a total hardass. Think Luna's getting canned?"
We cut through the halls in tense silence, eyes tracking us like hawks. Some didn't even bother whispering.
"Isn't Gray supposed to be Miss Professional?" one snickered. "Not looking so superior now, huh?"
"Always hated her stuck-up vibe," another muttered. "Thinks she's hot shit 'cause she's the star writer."
I kept my chin up, ignoring the office sharks smelling blood. Gabriel marched ahead, all business, not once glancing back.
We hit his office, and I was so wrapped up in holding my ground that I didn't see him stop. I plowed right into his solid back, my forehead smacking him.
Gabriel spun, clutching his chest like I'd stabbed him. "Ouch, you hit me," he said, playing up the fake hurt. "That stings."
I jumped back, putting space between us. But he spotted the red mark on my forehead, his eyes narrowing.
"Your forehead's red," he noted, reaching out. "You okay?"
I dodged, holding up a hand. "Back off, Mr. Ashford. No touching."
A flash of real hurt crossed his face before he smirked. "But staying away from you? That's impossible. What's a guy supposed to do?"
"Remember, this is Legacy Media, and you're my boss now," I snapped, laying down the law. "Professional boundaries—deal with it."
He arched a brow. "So outside work's fair game?"
I shook my head, exasperated, steering us elsewhere. "About your car... what's the damage gonna run me?"
Gabriel's lips quirked like he was fighting a laugh as he fished a damage report from his pocket.
I snatched the sheet, eyes scanning for the total. My jaw dropped. "Five million dollars?!" I gasped, staring at the insane number in disbelief.
