Sweet As Sin

10

“Yes, honey, he’s the director. He’s the director in music video at the moment.”

“He looks like a teenager!”

Kenji chortled. “Among other things. But he’s the real deal, lovey.”

“What’s with his name?”

“Random, right? It’s a thing now. All these young directors are giving themselves nicknames, think it makes them sound badass. Obi is short for Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Jedi Master.” He snickered. “Because, you know, our boy over there is so in touch with the Force.”

I rolled my eyes.

Kenji added, “And by the way, please don’t make any more jokes about not knowing the song. It’s probably one of the best rock ballads ever written. It’s a shoo-in for the Grammy this year.”

I was going to tell him it was no joke. Really, I was. But then my gaze found Nico once again, and my thoughts flew right out of my head.

Still reclining on the bed, a wicked little smile on his lips, he crooked his finger at me, then patted the mattress beside him.

I’m sure my gulp was audible.

“Showtime,” Kenji murmured, watching this exchange. He sighed. “Lucky bitch.”

“Lucky” wasn’t the word I’d use. “Screwed” would be more fitting. Because if my shaking hands, pounding heart, and sweaty pits were any indication, I was going to have a hell of a time remembering even a single instruction Obi had given me.

I was about to go lie on a bed with the most beautiful man I’d ever seen . . . and pretend I was his bride-to-be. While three dozen people watched. And filmed it.

Thirty thousand. Thirty thousand. Thirty thousand.

That was my mantra as I walked slowly across the room toward Nico, my pulse like thunder in my ears.

“You look incredible.”

Nico’s voice was low and gruff. His eyes were unblinking, the look in them intense. I glanced away, picking at the delicate lace on my sleeve.

“You need powder.”

Dear God, please tell me I didn’t just say that out loud.

“’Scuse me?” Nico sounded confused.

Yep. I did say it out loud. Now if only I accidentally farted, my humiliation would be complete. “You, um . . . your nose. The lights . . . you should have powder.”

“You tellin’ me I need makeup, Kat?” His tone was gently mocking.

Did he know how much he affected me? Yes, of course he did. He’d been turning females stupid for years. I blew out a hard breath, and cleared my throat. “Everyone needs makeup for the camera.”

He studied me. “Not everyone.” A furrow appeared between his brows. “You covered your freckles.”

He sounded disappointed. For some bizarre reason, he didn’t like that I’d covered my freckles under a heavy layer of foundation. The freckles I’d hated my entire life. The freckles I would’ve sold my soul to permanently remove.

Obi shouted, “Replacement girl, on the bed! Quiet on the set!”

With horror, I realized there was no way I could lower myself to the mattress. That would require bending, which would no doubt cause multiple seams to split. Kenji had stuffed me into the designer gown so well it was molded to my body like a sausage casing.

“Replacement girl! Now!”

“Her name’s Kat, Obi.” Nico watched me from hooded eyes as he said this, one corner of his mouth curved up. “Apparently she doesn’t answer to anything else.”

Obi released a pained sigh. “Kat! Please! On. The. Bed!”

Well, f**k it. If the entire room was about to watch me bust out of a ten-thousand-dollar dress, at least I’d be getting paid triple that to do it.

I took a breath, closed my eyes, and, without bending at the waist, pitched forward.

I landed right on top of Nico.

His surprised grunt was almost drowned out by the laughter of the crew. I wondered how much humiliation a person could suffer before dying of it.

A pair of strong arms encircled me. Nico whispered playfully in my ear, “I’m flattered, Kat. I’ve had women throw themselves at me before, but never quite so literally.”

Mercifully covered by my hair, my face flamed red with shame. I was contemplating never opening my eyes again when Nico gently rolled us both over, and tucked me into his side. He brushed the hair from my face, but I hid in the crook of his arm, groaning.

The bed began to shake with Nico’s stifled laughter.

“Quiet on the set!” Obi’s shout was shrill. He was immediately obeyed. By everyone but Nico, that is, who chose that exact moment to declare into the silence, “f**k, you’re adorable.”

Ground, please open up and swallow me. Please.

“We’re rolling! Cue music!”

A song began to play over the speakers. A lone violin note in plaintive high C, accompanied by the bass treble of a cello, filled the room. Then, sweet and soulful, aching with longing, a voice sang out.

My heart black as midnight on hell’s darkest shore

Yearning for something, or someone, before

It’s too late and I’m damned to this place

Of silence, and madness, and endless deep space

It was beautiful, that voice. Nico’s voice.

I opened my eyes to see him there above me, staring down, the smile fading from his eyes. He swept his thumb across my lower lip, and began to sing along with the lyrics.

His voice was soft, intimate, as if meant only for me.

I’ve wandered and hungered and waited for you

I’ve prayed on my knees to find something true

And now that you’ve found me and claimed me for yours

You’re taking me deeper than I’ve ever been before

Soul deep.

Soul deep.

Deeper than I’ve ever been before.

I was breathless. Wordless. Every cell in my body was aware of him, of his heat and weight, the wind-clean scent of his skin, the glow of the lights on his hair. Mesmerized, I couldn’t look away.

In that moment, no one else but the two of us existed.

“CUT!”

Startled by the shout, I dragged my gaze from Nico. Obi stood with hands on hips beside a video camera, looking all sorts of pissed.