The Billionaire’s Bun In Her Oven - Ellie Rowe Page 0,34

all the right things and I’m the one who can’t do anything right, can’t stop fucking looking at you all the time, and thinking about you—” I slap my hand over my own mouth.

Oops. Fuck. I watch Stephen take this in, but he slowly reaches his hand up to grab mine.

“What did you say?” he asks, his face cracking into a grin.

“I said… how the fuck have you been off?” I try, wincing.

Stephen shakes his head. “You must not be paying attention, or you’d have noticed I’m the one who can’t fucking stop looking at you. Everything you do makes me crazy. I mean that in a good way,” he adds, off my look.

“Oh,” I say. His hand tightens around my waist

“Look, it wasn’t my idea to have that horrible, fucking woman on my show. The execs decided, thought it would make for great TV.”

I roll my eyes, and he nods in agreement. “I know, I know. But I swear to you I am always looking out for you.”

My breath catches and Stephen stares at my lips with something more than his usual hunger. I think he’s telling the truth. He’s been thinking about me.

His breathing deepens as his other hand slides up my skirt and up to my waist. I reach to stroke his hair, running my hands down his chest. He cups my cheek and pulls me in for a kiss. Then we both jump, breaking apart and bringing down a stack of toilet paper and tissue boxes down on top of us.

Someone’s opened the broom closet door.

Twenty-Six

Stephen

Paulie’s standing there, his eyes giving us both the once-over, his lips pursed impishly. “Hey, you two.”

“We’re – discussing the show,” I stammer.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he responds quickly. “But, as my mother told me when I was thirteen, ‘time to come out of the closet’.”

“Just give us two minutes? Please?”

“I would, but Madame’s mother is on the phone.”

“My mother?” Cynthia asks. Her face flushes in anger. “What the hell is my mother calling about?”

Paulie bounces anxiously on his toes, his tone now serious. “I dunno. That’s why I’m interrupting. She said she’d been trying to get through to your cell and couldn’t reach you, so she called the restaurant.”

“My phone’s been off for the shoot…” Cynthia pulls her cell out and powers it up. I catch a glimpse of the screen to see she’s had five missed calls from “Mom”.

The energy in the closet shifts. In a flash, we go from nearly getting it on to juggling complex family dynamics. “Do you think something’s wrong?” I ask Cynthia, concerned.

“I can promise you, my mother is fine,” Cynthia mumbles, running her hands through her hair and straightening her chef’s coat. “Probably ran out of merlot…” She drifts out of the closet.

I’m about to follow when Paulie places a hand on my chest. He pushes me back into the closet. I stumble as one of my feet lands in a (fortunately empty) mop bucket. Just as I right myself, he steps in with me, shutting the door behind him.

There’s an awkward pause. Given the size of the closet, he’s very close to me. “Ummm, listen, Paulie…”

“Oh, you wish,” Paulie tell me. He gives me another once-over with his eyes. “OK, I wish. But we both know who you’re really into.” He glances toward the door, in the direction Cynthia just headed off to.

I try to play it cool. “I don’t –”

“Please, mister,” Paulie puts a hand in my face to shut me up. “I’m not stupid. I just want to warn you — you fuck with my girl? I will go all hibachi-grill on your gonads, get me?”

“That’s a… very precise image.”

“Fantastic!” He gives me a toothy smile and then pops out of the closet. A crew member, walking by, comes up short. Paulie shrugs at him, before moving on. The crew member’s eyes widen when he sees me. I shake my head and hurry out of the closet.

I feel exposed standing by myself in the middle of the dining room, so I pop into the office down the hall from the kitchen. Kenny, Rachna and the post-production crew have taken over the space so they can review and edit footage as we go.

They’re all in there, along with the editor, Tug, who’s bent over a laptop attached to two flat-screen monitors displaying the footage being edited.

“How’s it going in here?” I ask as I close the door behind me.

Rachna keeps her eyes on the monitors as she takes a big sip from