Page 80 of Love: Take Two

"Brent, keep my client's name out of your mouth unless you'd like me to start sniffing around Mel Michaels." I put my finger to my chin, pretending to remember. "If I recall, you really dropped the ball on her merchandizing agreement."

Brent's gaze turns furious, but he wisely keeps his mouth shut.

"I'm going to call Yong-rae with the good news, and I'll keep you updated on how things are faring on set."

I feel their eyes on me as I exit Jim's corner office and head to my own, but I don't slow down. They can stare until they go cross-eyed. I'm done acting like some kind of silent partner at Luxe when I earned my place just as much as they did.Moreso, if you consider the odds have always been stacked against me.

I close the door to my office and pick up the receiver immediately, happy to finally be calling with some good news.

"Yong-rae!" I beam when he answers. "I hope you're sitting down!"

Cheers erupt when Yong-rae steps from his trailer and starts walking toward the soundstage. The light team, all the PAs, costume and makeup;everyoneshowed up to celebrate my client's first day back to work. I poke him in the ribs with a wink when I see him tearing up, though my own eyes are noticeably damp. After two weeks, the nightmare is finally over.

Getting production back up and running was easy since everyone was still scheduled and neither Pinnacle nor Edward Ash released them to their next gigs. We were all holding our breath, waiting, and being back here to finish what we started is the best possible outcome.

And then multiple women started coming forward saying they barely made it home after a night at Tipsy's. One said her friends had to put her in a cab after just one drink. Another said she remembered going, but nothing about the night itself. Apparently her roommate showed up and got her home safely.

The stories were heartbreaking, not just because of what almost happened to these women, but because nothing was being done about it. Ken Jericho was using Tipsy's as his personal hunting ground, and none of the women felt comfortable speaking out until there was video proof.

Jill McIntyre threatened a lawsuit if the police delayed authentication more than twenty-four hours; the charges against Yong-rae were dropped the next day. Jill's as fierce as Awa, though not half as beautiful.

Awa stands right next to the soundstage, flanked by Rory, Tabitha, and even Edward, who's wearing a rare smile.

"Welcome back, man," he offers, giving Yong-rae a hearty slap on the back.

"Glad you're not fired," Rory says with a wry grin. Yong-rae holds his arms out in invitation, and she allows him a brief hug.

Tabitha is openly bawling and pulls Yong-rae into a tight embrace. She gets tears and makeup all over his shirt as Jax, the head makeup artist, looks on, annoyed.

"Next time," she whispers, "we're stayinginfor dinner."

Yong-rae cracks a rueful smile and nuzzles into her neck. Tabitha's answering smile is watery.

And then there's Awa.

One look at her, and I have to remind myself to breathe. In her eyes is the past I was too stupid to hold on to, and a future that's finally within reach. We won't be giving this "a real shot" because this isalreadyreal. It always was.

But I can't say all that in front of my client, his girlfriend, and half the top talent in New York, so I simply nod, greeting her with a smile I hope is professional, and say,

"So, are we ready to get this show on the road?"

"You took the words right out of my mouth," Rory answers from somewhere behind me.

She addresses the crew like a general does her troops, and everyone snaps into action. We've got two weeks of shooting to make up, and a curse to break.

In all the commotion, no one notices me nudging Awa's shoulder and jerking my head towards the video village, or her pinky wrapping around mine as we walk in step with one another. There are no words; only looks of relief, promised passion, love.

"Thank you for your note," I whisper as I pull her chair out for her. She crosses one leg over the other, and skin marbled like the richest mahogany teases me from beneath the hem of her blood-red skirt. I'm in awe and can't stop myself from grazing her thigh with my index finger. She shivers in response.

"And for the flowers."

"It was nothing," she says, shaking her head, but I take her chin in mine, letting all the longing inside me show on my face.

"It waseverything, Awa."

I want to pull her to me, kiss her right here in front of everyone. Would anyone even notice, with us tucked awaybehind a wall of monitors and everyone buzzing around like bees? One small kiss to tide us over. Until we can finally have the long overdue conversation to make things plain between us.

She moistens her lips—blood-red to match her killer suit—and I lean in. We're mere inches apart when—