Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 125248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
He arrived in the Gucci, velvet jacket, silk shirt open at the throat, and an alternating black-and-white diamond herringbone necklace in 24-karat gold his team had borrowed from Cartier, resting against his pale skin. Golden Crown in hand because Maribel said carrying it made for better photos.
His men fanned out around the room, black amidst a sea of white and glitter.
Cassidy stayed close as he made the rounds.
He smiled. Accepted congratulations. Posed with other winners. Hugged his director. Laughed when appropriate. Answered questions. Let writers talk his ear off about future roles he’d be perfect for.
He declined shots. Enjoyed the buffet and drank a lot of sparkling water.
The first party was manageable. The second one, he wanted to choke himself.
Astral House had rented out a rooftop space in Beverly Hills. By the time he got there it was a bunch of beautiful drunk people who’d spent the evening losing, winning, pretending not to care, or caring so much they drank through it.
The air smelled like expensive perfume, liquor, and weed.
Xander was so tired of fake smiling as if he was having a good time and Cassidy knew it. He could tell by the way he gravitated closer, and closer.
“You’re done in fifteen,” Cassidy murmured near his ear.
Xander turned his head. “Maribel said an hour.”
“I’m not Maribel.”
“No,” Xander said softly, letting his gaze travel over him. “You are not.”
Cassidy’s eyes heated for a breath, then shifted over Xander’s shoulder and the warmth turned ice cold.
Xander followed his gaze and immediately saw why.
Wyatt Stanis was coming toward him with a drink in one hand and trouble in his unsteady steps.
He was handsome in a careless, glossy way, with dark curls, and a cunning smile. At the Crescent Gala he’d been charming. Now he was loud, drunk and no longer respecting boundaries.
“Xan,” Wyatt called, dragging the name out as he approached. “There he is. Man of the hour.”
Xander smiled stiffly. “Hey, Wyatt.”
Wyatt threw one arm around him before Xander could step back.
Cassidy moved in to intercept but Xander shook his head to stop him.
Wyatt squeezed him, his hand landing low on his waist. “You fucking did it, man. Best Actor. Best Film. They’re gonna have to rename the whole damn night after you.”
Xander tried to shift out from under his arm, but Wyatt didn’t let go. “Thank you.”
“You looked gorgeous on that stage.” Wyatt’s breath smelled like pineapples and tequila…or was it rum. “Seriously. Beautiful. Whole room was going crazy for you.”
Wyatt eased his hand further down, fingers digging into his velvet jacket as he leaned into his side. “I was too.”
Xander’s heart pounded faster at the way Cassidy’s expression had turned to stone as he glared at Wyatt’s hands.
He caught Wyatt’s wrist. “Okay, you’re drunk.”
Wyatt laughed as though Xander wasn’t being serious.
“Come on now, no need to play hard to get,” Wyatt smiled. “I’ve seen the way you look at me on set. How hard you were when we did our scene.”
Oh hell.
That was not because of you.
Behind him, somewhere across the room, Ruxs turned.
Green did too.
Day lifted his head as God pushed off the far wall.
Xander moved Wyatt’s hands again. “All right. Enough.”
Cassidy
Cassidy hated the Astral House party before they’d even made it through the door.
The place was enormous, it wasn’t a lounge so much as a gilded maze. The music thudded through the floors, the bar was open, and industry people crowded every open space, all laughing too loudly, and touching too freely.
And everyone wanted Xander.
That was a big problem for Cassidy but Xander handled it all with impossible grace.
It was close to midnight and Xander was one of the few sober people left in the room, and he looked beyond ready to leave.
Now this Wyatt asshole was testing his limits.
Cassidy gritted his teeth when Wyatt pulled Xander close for another selfie.
Wyatt’s arm was much lower than it needed to be. Xander gave the camera a tight smile, then shifted away after the flash. Wyatt shifted with him, laughing into his ear.
“This fucker is really pissing me off,” he murmured into comms.
“Yeah,” Tech answered from his overwatch position on the second-level balcony. “Me too. But you know what real duress looks like on him.”
Wyatt grabbed Xander’s hand and pulled him toward the dance floor.
Not invited, dragged him.
Cassidy moved.
God’s command hit his ear like a door slamming shut. “Hold positions.”
Cassidy stopped, every muscle in his body objecting.
“God.”
“If Xander doesn’t wanna dance, he can say so,” God replied. “Wyatt Stanis is a buck-fifty soaking wet. Xander can handle him.”
Damn it.
“He’s probably trying not to embarrass him,” Ruxs said.
Cassidy watched as Xander was dragged into the pulsing center of the floor. Wyatt wrapped his lanky arms around Xander’s waist, thrusting his hips forward as if he was auditioning for a Dirty Dancing remake.
Cassidy read Xander’s lips as he leaned back slightly.
“Okay, Wyatt. Chill out.”