“I told you to save Erik,” she cried, angry and broken at the loss of her Viking lover to the roiling ocean. “Itoldyou. I told you I could swim, and hecouldn’t.”
He kept his face stony, only the merest hint of his mingledgrief and relief evident in his expression. “You were tiring, and you were nearer to me than he was. I had a choice. I made it. Now we’ll both live with it.”
When he held her tear-glazed eyes just a moment too long, the audience would realize, even if Cassia didn’t: Cyprian had secretly wanted her. And if there was a chance she’d drown, he couldn’t leave her. Not even if that meant dooming his closest friend, the man she loved. Not even if that meant hating himself for what he’d done.
She shoved his chest, hard enough that he rocked backward. “May all the gods damn you, Cyprian. And even if they forgive you, I vow to you: I never will.”
He dismissed her with a sneer. “So be it.”
Her snarl of heartbroken rage in response was perfect. Just loud enough, just obvious enough. Maria was no longer playing to the cheap seats.
Still, this take was probably a flash in the pan. Most likely she was a moderately talented theater actor not meant for either film or television, one who’d briefly gotten lucky and given the best performance of her life at a crucial moment.
She was a fighter punching above her weight, and that would become evident soon enough. Any minute now.
But by the time she and Peter finished their scene, then did a cold read of another script excerpt, Ron’s smirk had entirely disappeared, and R.J. had turned to the casting director for what appeared to be a whispered, extremely intense conversation. Various execs looked thoughtful, and a few were even smiling.
It shouldn’t have been a surprise, not after their pleasurable but ill-fated night together, but somehow it still stunned Peter: He and Maria had undeniable chemistry. Worse: After her disastrous start to the audition, she’d recovered. More than recovered. At least for this one morning, this one audience, she’dshone.
Before the showrunners finally dismissed them back to the waiting room, R.J. complimented both of them on their performances, then urged them to clear their schedules for the rest of the day and have their agents or managers on call.
The decision-makers in the room still needed to put two alternative Cyprians and another Cassia through their paces, of course, and maybe those other actors would slay their auditions. Maybe their performances would demonstrate such towering chemistry and acting ability, Maria and/or Peter would find themselves shunted aside.
That said, the showrunners weren’t exactly being subtle.
“I think it would behoove both of you to have your teams waiting in the wings,” Ron told Maria with a wink even Peter considered smarmy. “Just in case.”
That was the moment Peter realized.
Even if he landed the role of a lifetime today, he might still have a serious problem. One he had no idea how to solve.
And her name was Maria.
2
Late that afternoon, both Maria and Peter signed their contracts after due consultation with their agents and—in her case—her brother Filip, a lawyer.
It was all a bit surreal, frankly. A couple of months ago, she’d sent in her audition materials on a lark. Eager to get far, far away from her family’s concerned scrutiny and her own wounded heart, itching for a new professional challenge, she’d taken her shot but hadn’t expected much to come of it. Because yes, despite her talent, she wasn’t actually an experienced film or television actor, and no one in the United States knew her work.
But now she’d somehow landed a plum role onGods of the Gates, the biggest show on television. Not just in America, but around the world, including in Sweden. She couldn’t be prouder or more excited, and she couldn’t wait to tell her family.
Only one cloud currently darkened her delightfully sunny skies.
Peter. Tall, dark, sexy, surly Peter Reedton.
Her closest colleague would be the man she’d fucked and left without a word last night.
It wasn’t optimal, frankly.
All afternoon, she’d tried to catch his eye and get him alone for long enough to smooth things over. To offer what explanations she could, whether or not he found them satisfactory. To diffuse anyawkwardness between them in a private conversation. Maybe even to tell him how unexpectedly hard leaving him behind had been, how often thoughts of him had entered her mind that morning, and how much she’d not only wanted him but also . . .likedhim.
Enough to frighten her. Enough to make her run.
From the moment Peter walked into that sauna, she’d wanted to fuck him. But she’d seen no possible future for them, and these days, she allowed herself no intimacy of the nonsexual variety with short-term lovers. She did entirely casual or fully committed. Nothing in between.
There was no point to it, and she wouldn’t waste her time, her energy, or her heart. She’d learned that lesson early and well, and suffered through a refresher course on the topic only months ago. When it came to their one-night stand, liking Peter hadn’t been a bonus but a threat.
So she’d insisted on a hotel room—and hadn’t offered hers as an option. When they were finished, she didn’t have to persuade him to leave. She could simply go, and that was exactly what she’d done.