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white. There are three steps up to the oversized jetted bathtub and I suddenly long to soak in it.
    Maybe tonight.
    First, I’ll have pie.
    Then I’ll work a few hours.
    After that, a luxurious fucking bath.

 
     
     
     
     

     
     
    I’m fucking pissed and I’m not sure why. It could be that Cadence decided to go live in Zane’s house. Maybe it’s because she wants to take our relationship slow. Possibly it’s because I’ve been honest with her. For the first time in my life there’s been no games. I care about her. That in and of itself is a surprise.
    She’s a prostitute. That usually isn’t conducive to relationships. She’s a brunette. Small chested. My past is littered with blonds with big boobs. It’s my thing. Some men prefer the ass. I’ve always preferred the breasts.
    Cadence is everything I never knew I wanted. Her breasts are smaller. She has brown hair. Beyond the physical discrepancies there’s her previous employment and her knack for saying whatever the fuck pops into her head. She doesn’t have a filter.
    If I was to go down my hypothetical list of what I want in a woman, she wouldn’t meet any of the criteria. But it doesn’t matter. My fucking heart, my soul, and my body want her and only her.
    My publicist thinks it’s because I’m used to getting my own way. It’s possible she’s right. I’ve never been with a woman long enough to discuss whether or not we should take it slow. I’ve never spent more than a few days in the same room with a woman. Living with Cadence was painless. It was so enjoyable.
    Except not for her. She needs space.
    It fucking blows my mind.
     

     
    When I’m done in hair and makeup I go over my lines. Today’s scenes involve green screen work. Scarlett and I will be battling and running from supernatural creatures we can’t see.
    I’ve done green screen work before, but never to such an extent. The ghosts or ghouls or whatever the hell my character will be battling will be digitally added at a later date, so for today I’ll be talking and shouting and fighting and killing a silver pole with a light on the end.
    “Johnny?”
    It’s Scarlett. I can tell by the low raspy voice.
    “Come in,” I say, leaning back in my chair and sipping some bottled water.
    She’s dressed in her costume—a tight red dress and red stiletto heels. Her hair is curled softly around her face and she has on black eyeliner and red lipstick. She reminds me of Marilyn Monroe, if Marilyn Monroe had been too skinny and surgically enhanced. Still, she looks beautiful.
    “You look hot,” I say and smile.
    “Thanks.” She looks at her hands. I notice her long nails are painted red.
    It’s obvious she’s in one of her moods. The world sees a total bitch. That’s her persona. But underneath is a self-conscious girl with daddy and mommy issues. She had both parents at home growing up, but her childhood was still rough. Her dad was always working and her mom put her on a diet when she was ten. She was told she was fat and that fat people were ugly people. Her mom is seriously overweight, which explains why she fed Scarlett her self-hatred.
    “Is the whore going to be on set today?” She runs one long nail down my arm.
    The comment pisses me off, but that’s what she wants. It was the only way she got attention from her daddy. Pissing off me is how she knows she’ll get attention. “I’m not sure. Probably.”
    I look up from the magazine article I’m reading about myself in Men’s Health magazine and watch her through the reflection in the mirror.
    She quirks a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “What did she say about our scene yesterday?”
    I know she’s referring to our sex scene. It’d turned out steamy, exactly as I intended, but I saved that kind of intensity for when the cameras rolled. Scarlett never understood that. She thought that if the chemistry was good on screen it would be even better off.
    We’d tried it her way once before. It hadn’t worked.
    I