Falling Into Love with You (The Hate-Love Duet Book 2) by Rowe, Lauren (grave mercy .TXT) 📕

Nadine and the crowd, “Hey, everyone. Sorry about that. Savage was on a phone call with his grandmother.” I glare at Savage, who’s smirking infuriatingly at me. “We’re very sorry and both promise, it won’t happen again.”

Nineteen

Savage

“Draft Day is a wrap, folks!” the director shouts, and in response, everyone around me on the stage—the three other judges, crew, and staff—sigh with relief and/or applaud. It’s only lunchtime and we’ve still got Mentor Day left to shoot this afternoon. But, at least, after hours of bantering, bartering, haggling and fighting—that last one being mostly between Laila and me—all four judges now have their final teams. I didn’t want to be the one to pick a fight with Laila today, but once she started giving me hell about that blue-haired pixie she wanted the most, Addison Swain, I actually enjoyed giving Laila as good as I got.

And it worked. Midway through the morning, Nadine came over to Laila and me and flashed us a huge smile and thumbs up. Which means, if Laila ever had cause to worry that her job was on the line today—which I’m not convinced was ever the case—I’m now positive she’s in the clear. And that means whatever genuine anger my stunt this morning might have provoked in Laila, all will be forgiven by the time we leave the studio tonight. In fact, I’d bet dollars to doughnuts Laila will give me the blowjob of my life when we get home to thank me for knowing her better than she knows herself.

“Hey, everyone, before we break for lunch,” the director says, and the room quiets down. “Why don’t we get all four mentors out here real quick to shoot the full-cast round table discussion. We’ll do some trash-talking about the teams and then break for lunch.”

“Sounds great,” Nadine says. She addresses a production assistant. “Wrangle the mentors from the greenroom, Gina.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As crew members hustle-bustle around me, setting up whatever is coming next, I lean back in my chair and wink at Laila, who’s sitting next to me at the table. “What’d I tell you, Fitzy? We nailed it.” I hold up my hand for a high-five, but she leaves me hanging. “Aw, come on. You can drop the act now. Our scenes together are almost done. After this little round-table thing, you’ll be shooting with Colin and your team for the rest of the day.” I hold up my palm again. But, again, Laila leaves me hanging. Chuckling, I grab her limp hand and thwap her palm against mine, like a parent showing a toddler how to high-five. “’Thank you, Savage,’” I say on her behalf. “’You’re a genius and I’m grateful to you.’”

Laila yanks her hand from mine. “I told you not to talk about this until we’re done for the day. I can’t get into this right now.”

“Into what? You know why I invited Charlie over this morning.”

She leans forward and whisper-shouts, “Stop. Talking. Now! Somehow, I need to get through the rest of the day without screaming at you, bursting into tears, or murdering you.”

I’m flabbergasted. “Bursting into tears? There you go again. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Her nostrils flare. “Trust me, I plan to enlighten you, in great detail, when my job is done and we’re alone. For now, however, I’d appreciate you kindly pretending I’m not here.”

“Laila, the only reason I invited Charlie to the house was to help you get into character today. Surely, you’ve figured that out by now.”

“You want to know what I’ve ‘figured out’? You’re a hypocrite and a liar. Which I knew, of course. But I thought I could overlook the red flags and learn to trust you completely. I thought you’d changed. But now I know I was deluding myself.”

My heart explodes with panic. “What are you talking about?”

“Quiet on the set!” the director yells, glaring at me. “Okay, let’s cue the mentors! And . . . roll cameras! Mentors?”

After flashing me a little snarl, Laila plasters a fake smile on her face and turns her attention toward the entrance of the stage, where two seconds later, the show’s four mentors enter.

My heart racing, I look down at the table. How does Laila not understand my ulterior motives here? Obviously, I pulled this morning’s stunt to help her. But even if I didn’t, even if there was no early-termination clause in her contract and I invited Charlie to the house this morning to find out if Laila did, in fact, screw him during the tour, then so what? Would that have been such a horrendous crime? Yes, it would have been a bit immature of me. Obsessive, maybe. But would it have been enough of a misstep to undo all the goodwill and trust I’ve built with Laila since living with her? If so, then I guess what we’ve been building is a whole lot less sturdy then I’ve been thinking.

“Okay, judges, let’s have you get up and greet your respective mentors,” the director calls out. And we four judges dutifully spring into action.

When I reach Kendrick, he grips my palm in a sideways handshake, the same greeting he usually gives me, and I can’t help sneaking a peek at Laila to find out how she’s greeting Colin. Well, that figures. She’s kissing Colin’s cheek. Probably trying to get a rise out of me. Classic Laila.

I look away, and by chance, discover Aloha greeting Fish with a kiss to his cheek. See? I say to myself. There’s no reason to panic. Laila doesn’t want to jump Colin’s bones any more than Aloha wants to jump Fish’s.

“Okay, got it,” the director says. “Now, everyone take seats at the round table, with judges and mentors next to each other, and we’ll do a few minutes of trash-talking about the teams before breaking for lunch.”

All eight of us take seats, as instructed, and proceed to banter and hype up our teams for the next fifteen minutes or so. Until, finally, the director yells cut. “Before