Page 22 of Love Unscripted
The room had gone very quiet. Ray shifted in his seat. Tiffany dropped her gaze. Aaron fixed his expression into something professional and calm.
“We’ll get you what you need,” he’d said evenly but he’d heard the warning. If they couldn’t deliver clean, consistent footage—trailer-worthy footage—the campaign stalled. A stalled campaign meant a delayed release. A delayed release meant money, headlines and questions.
Chris had been polite. Strategic. Almost kind. “Given the… recent press around Camille,” he’d added gently, “it would help to reinforce a narrative of professionalism. Behind-the-scenes content, on-set interviews—anything that supports stability.”
Translation: Convince the world she isn’t a liability.
Now, alone with his thoughts, Aaron felt the weight of it settle in his chest. They weren’t panicking yet. But they were watching. And they expected him to fix it. If Camille continued to rebel on set, this wasn’t just a directing issue—it was a marketing problem. A financial problem. A studio-trust problem.
He took a sip of his drink and leaned back, rubbing his temples.
One more week like this and it wouldn’t stay contained to the set.
He had to talk to her. Really talk to her. Before both their careers tanked.
He’d directed three Christian films before, but those had been indie projects.The Gifthad been an early low budget film about a childless couple who finally decides to adopt. That was followed bySeen and Heard, a movie starring his father about a successful business man who is challenged to live out his faith in a practical way. And the last wasNew Year’s Eve, a faith based romantic drama about two people at emotional cross roads as the year comes to a close.New Year’s Evehad done well and waswell-regarded in the Christian community. So he was building a reputation.
Estherwas not an independent film. This was a historical epic for a major studio—vast sets, sweeping visuals, international expectations.
Marketing a film like this wasn’t the concern. The studio had deep pockets and could do a phenomenal job in that area. What gnawed at him was Ray’s visit. Chris’s carefully worded remarks. The promise Aaron had made—to deliver the film in three and a half months, on budget.
Something had to change.
When the restaurant door opened and Camille finally walked in, Aaron’s heart gave an unwelcome lurch.
Camille wasn’t dressed immodestly. Quite the opposite. She wore a simple white silk top paired with blue jeans and soft white loafers. The look was clean, understated, almost demure.
That wasn’t the problem.
The problem was that since the day she’d arrived on set, he hadn’t been able to rein in the pull he felt toward her.
After Scarlette died, he’d made a quiet vow. He would never risk that kind of devastation again. She had been his joy. His anchor. His better half. Grief still lived in his chest, steady and unrelenting.
And then Camille had entered his life—unexpected, inconvenient, impossible to ignore. She unsettled him. Disarmed him in ways he didn’t want. He told himself he wasn’t intrigued.
He was lying.
He was fighting feelings for Camille—a woman nothing like effervescent Scarlette.
What was wrong with him?
Camille approached the table with tension in her shoulders. She slid into the booth across from him and eased her bag from her shoulder.
“Good evening,” she said, eyes on the table.
“Hi.”
“Have you ordered?”
“No. I was waiting on you.”
She looked up. “Sorry I’m late.”
He waited for an explanation. None was offered. She reached for the menu instead, brows drawing together as she scanned it. He already knew what he wanted, so he let himself watch her.
Camille Carlucci was captivating in a way that was obvious. Her dark eyes—bold, searching. The delicate curve of her nose. Her soft, expressive mouth. Her thick black hair. Her curvaceous body.
When she glanced up and caught him watching, surprise flickered across her face. For a heartbeat, the air between them stilled.
