Since breaking things off with Russell, she’d found him unbelievably difficult to work with. He'd made it very clear he resented the fact that she'd initiated their end—as if she was the first woman to ever reject him. It had made for an uncomfortable last few months of filming, but she'd done her best to ignore his passive aggressive barbs and blatant advances.
All things considered, she was really happy with her own performance, even if she hadn't seen the final product yet.
"This movie is going to be big, Aria. I can feel it."
Aria wrapped an arm around her mother's shoulders as they walked in the direction of the dressing rooms. "From your lips to God's ears."
When they arrived at her room, a small room with no windows on the second floor of a long row of dressing rooms, Aria dropped down on the couch with a big sigh. "I could sleep forever."
"Why don't you take a nap before heading home?" Betty asked, her eyes on her watch. "I've got to get home to relieve your father's nurse for the evening."
"Oh, go, go. Don't let me keep you." Aria pulled her feet onto the couch and pushed a pillow under her head, curling up for a nap. "I probably will rest my eyes for a minute."
Betty grabbed a throw blanket off a nearby chair and draped it over her. "Okay, sweetheart. I love you."
"Love you, Ma," Aria said, already drifting off to sleep. They'd been filming since four in the morning today, trying to finish the last scene. Now that it was over, she felt like she could sleep for days.
Darkness fell over the room, and Aria felt her body relax, slipping out of consciousness. Minutes, hours, she wasn't sure how long she'd slept before she was jolted awake.
"Oh, shit. Were you sleeping?"
Sitting up, Aria blinked and rubbed her eyes. Russell was standing in the doorway of her dressing room, a wicked grin on his face.
"What do you want, Russ?" She kept her tone flat, her teeth clenched.
"You coming to the wrap party tonight?"
Aria yawned, checking the clock on the wall. She'd apparently been sleeping for three hours—much longer than a nap. "Yeah, I'm going."
She was feeling refreshed after the extra hours of rest, and she did want to celebrate with the crew—even if that meant enduring another few hours of her ex-boyfriend.
Russ glanced up and down the hallway outside the room, then stepped in and closed the door behind him. "Hey, maybe we should have a celebration of our own..."
Aria immediately got to her feet. "Get. Out."
"Come on, baby," he cooed, crossing the room. "Don't you miss us? The film's wrapped, and we can get back to being us outside of work."
"Us was over the moment I caught you fooling around with an intern," she seethed, instantly angry that he still couldn't take a hint.
Russ's face glowered, going from sexual to angry. "Whatever. I’ve got a good memory." He winked at her and gestured first to his head, and then to his crotch as if he was jerking off.
Aria's stomach turned. "You're disgusting."
He shrugged while he walked back to the door, nonchalantly. Looking back over his shoulder, his face split into a wicked smile. "You'll be back. D-List actresses always come back for this dick when they realize I'm the best they'll ever have."
"Fuck you," Aria shot out, crossing her arms over her chest.
With his signature sinister smile, he walked out of the dressing room.
Aria's insides boiled. Slime. He was complete and utter slime. Clearly, she'd lost her damn mind when she'd briefly dated him. She'd been so easily mesmerized by his talent as a director, and he'd taught her so much. She'd thought it was just innocent, but all those extra late night lessons had turned into him hitting on her and her...just going with it.
Groaning, Aria dropped back onto the couch. God, I'm so stupid. She couldn't believe she'd been fooled by someone as blatantly slimy as him.
"Hey, Aria!" A silver-haired beauty bounced into the room through the doorway Russ had just exited.
"Hi, Steele," Aria greeted her makeup artist and hair stylist, who was really more like her best friend after spending every day together over the past few months of filming. Steele was her full name—or so she insisted—like Cher, she always said.
Steele collapsed onto the couch next to her, leaving a puff of glitter in the air. "Today is the absolute worst."
"What? Why?" Aria turned to her friend, pulling her legs up on the couch to face her.
Steele was uniquely gorgeous, the kind of beauty that was all personality, too. Brightly dyed silver hair, colorful makeup, ears lined with half a dozen earrings each, and vibrantly colored clothes made her stand out in any room. Her always exuberant attitude matched her style, and the two had quickly grown close.
"It's our last day," Steele said, her voice exaggeratedly whining. "Friendship over!"
Aria laughed, tipping her head back at her friend's dramatics. "Our friendship is not over! It's the last day of filming, but you know I'm going to need you again. There's still the photo shoot for promos for the film. There's the red carpet look. Press events. There's a ton of things I still need you for."
"Oh, great," Steele teased, tossing her hands up. "So, we're only friends because you still need me."
"Aside from being the best makeup artist and hair stylist in town, I have no use for you," Aria said in mock seriousness. "Honestly, you're just in the way otherwise."
Steele squawked. "Bitch."
"You know I'm kidding!" Aria leaned her head on Steele's shoulder, hugging her arm. "I love you, girl. We're still friends even if we aren't working together."
"Ugh." Steele squirmed away and stood up. "That's enough mushy gushy for now. I don't do feelings."
Aria grinned, fully aware that Steele was a lot more emotional than she let on. "Whatever, crazy. Help me pick out an outfit and look for the wrap party tonight."
"Now that I can do." Steele was already pulling clothes apart on the rack to one side of the room. "Let's go slutty tonight."
"I'm not going slutty," Aria countered, thinking of Russ's attendance.
Steele sighed. "You always turn down slutty. What about half slutty?"
"What's half slutty?"
Steele held up a dress that had no cleavage. It completely covered her chest and wrapped her neck, leaving only her arms and shoulders bare.
Aria frowned. "How is that half slutty?"
Steele held it up against her body and indicated the hem at the bottom. It barely touched the top of her thighs.
Laughing, Aria shook her head. "So, I'm a nun on top and then naked on the bottom?"
"Exactly. Half slutty."
Aria took the dress and held it up to her own body. It went a little lower on her because she was shorter than Steele, reaching about mid-thigh. "Pair these with knee-high boots to cover my legs and I'll wear it."
Steele pumped her fist through the air. "Finally! Maybe you'll meet a guy tonight."
"I am not dating right now," Aria countered, closing the dressing room door so she could get changed. "Not even interested."
"Imagine how pissed Russ would be if he saw you with another guy though." Steele handed her a set of suede boots that matched the emerald green cocktail dress perfectly. "It's the perfect revenge for his cheating ass."
Not many people knew about her affair with Russ, but Steele was part of her inner circle. Still, she had no desire to make Russell jealous. She just wanted him gone.
"I think I've learned my lesson about dating people I work with," Aria countered, lifting her shirt over her head and tossing it onto the couch. "And there's no one here I'd want to date anyway."
Steele shrugged. She was lining makeup on the counter. "There was a new guy on set today. Sexy as hell in that suit. I might have to call dibs on that."
"You're engaged," Aria reminded her. She had to admit though, Steele was right. Shepherd Film's new CEO was handsome as hell. So handsome, in fact, that she'd already completely blanked on his name from when he introduced himself. His smoldering blue
eyes, rugged jaw, and broad shoulders had completely eclipsed her attention for a moment.
Steele winked at her in her reflection in the mirror as she stood behind Aria and zipped up the back of the dress. "Engaged, not blind. Sit. I'm going to do a smoky eye tonight."
"Like you'd ever leave Xavier. I've never seen two people more in love." Aria grabbed Steele's phone off the counter, clicking it on to show her the background photo. It was of Steele and a tattooed man kissing, arms wrapped around each other.
Steele blushed and took her phone back. "It's true. We're really fucking cute." Aria sat still as Steele began wiping off the makeup from filming. "And I'm about to make you really fucking cute, so you better not waste it on another night alone with your battery-operated boyfriend."
She giggled, feeling her face flush with heat. "Steele!"
Part of her had to admit, she wasn't as closed off to dating and men as she let on. She was focused on her career and not about to let a man get in the way of that, but it would be really nice to have someone to fall asleep next to again.
The truth was, Aria was lonely, and she was starting to think it was time to do something about that.
* * *
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Excerpt from Not a Hero
A Standalone Bad Boy Marine Romance
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Prologue
“He’s dead, Miles! He’s dead!” A familiar voice called out to him, panic thundering through his screams. “We need to go. NOW!”
Someone grabbed his arm and roughly yanked him backwards.
Deafening gunshots rang in his ears, drowning out everything else.
His feet were concrete slabs, forcing him to stare at what he’d done. Everything inside him wanted to run for cover, find safety, and forget what had happened. The concrete pushed down, the ground swallowing his feet like quicksand, dragging him down into the dusty red clay as he scrambled to free himself. Greedy and unforgiving, the dirt had his knees and kept reaching for more, and he knew without a doubt this was it.
This is how it ends, Miles thought as he grabbed at the surrounding earth pulling him into a desert grave.
This is how I am punished.
Miles Kydd shot out of his bed like it was on fire, electricity pulsing through every nerve in his body. He swiveled around, blinking rapidly, and taking in his surroundings. He quickly realized he was not on fire, but rather, standing in his boxers in the middle of the barracks filled with rows of snoring Marines in bunk beds.
A few shifted in their cots and glanced at him through half-open eyes before rolling over and going back to sleep. The flash of understanding on their faces quickly went blank as they pretended to be oblivious.
They all know.
Miles’s face heated, and he rubbed his fists into his eyes, attempting to rid the images burned there. Raking his fingers through short, dirty blonde hair, the perspiration that coated his skin transferred to his hands. Taking a deep breath and then slowly exhaling, he wiped sweaty palms on his boxers and walked back to his cot.
Quietly, so as to avoid any more attention, he slid under the scratchy wool blanket almost eight years in the U.S. Marines had conditioned him to find comfortable.
Miles glanced to his right. A few cots over, the desert moon beaming through the windows reflected off the pale skin of Tobin’s shaved head, which was partially covered by the blankets pulled to his nose.
His best friend since childhood, Tobin Leach had enlisted with the United States Marines alongside Miles the day after their high school graduation. They had reenlisted an additional four years together, and now were only a few weeks from heading home.
Seeing him close by calmed Miles, easing the anxiety his nightmares and memories had left behind. He clenched his jaw, pushing down the sudden surge of familiar shame, a constant poison threatening to overtake him if he allowed it. He wouldn’t—Miles never lost control.
At least that’s what he told himself.
Taking a deep breath, he hid his demons in a dark corner of his heart. Ignoring them was the best option he had, or maybe the only one.
It’ll be easier once I’m out of this hellhole. He needed to redirect his thoughts, to focus on his excitement about heading home, his discharge official in a few weeks.
Miles was most looking forward to seeing his father. Walter Kydd had recently been diagnosed with lymphoma, which was why Miles had decided not to reenlist again as he’d originally planned. He needed to be home as much as his father needed him there.
He bit down on the inside of his cheek as he considered his father’s illness—the last man on earth who deserved such a hardship. They were each other’s only family, and Walter had given Miles everything he’d ever needed and more. It was more than father-son, Walter was his everything.
A heaviness pressed on his chest, and he turned over on his cot, attempting to change his line of thinking to something positive, something to push the sadness away. His thoughts drifted to his mother—not a topic which could aid his melancholy state—and he pushed that away as well.
Miles squeezed his eyes shut, exhaling slowly. I can do this.
Only one more month in Afghanistan.
Only one more month until his feet would be back on American soil. Then a few weeks later, he’d be walking down those Pennsylvania roads he loved.
It was time to go home.
Chapter 1
“You know what I’m most excited to see?” Tobin leaned across the plane aisle toward him, an excited grin plastered across his face and a glassy look in his eyes as he sloshed down his fourth mini-bottle of whiskey.
“What’s that?” Miles warily eyed his friend’s glass, taking note in case things got out of hand. He’d never known Tobin to understand boundaries, but his friend’s drinking had increased since Afghanistan. Not that Miles blamed him after what they’d seen over there.
Miles lifted his own glass, considered the whiskey inside for a minute before putting it back down on the tray table and pushing it away. At the rate Tobin was going, one of them would need to maintain a sense of control.
“Grass, Miles! When is the last time we saw a patch of grass, man? Whole meadows of grass and big trees everywhere you look?” Tobin had a distant look in his eyes as he leaned his head against the headrest. He lifted the mini-bottle of booze to his lips, only to realize it was empty. Frowning, Tobin reached above his head and pressed the call button to summon the flight attendant.
When she didn’t materialize in half a second, he pressed it again…and again…and again.
“Tobin, quit it!” Miles scowled. “She’s coming. Don’t you think you’ve had enough anyway? We’re landing soon, and you don’t need to be completely shit-faced when you see your mom again.”
Tobin scoffed, shaking the small plastic bottle in front of Miles’s face. “I’m going to need more than this kid-sized bottle if I’m going to see Janiiiice.” He grimaced as her name left his mouth.
“Kid-sized booze?” Miles rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I think you’ve had enough.”
“I just want to see a patch of grass, Miles.” Tobin’s voice was softer now, nostalgic.
Miles couldn’t help smiling and nodding his head. He knew exactly what Tobin meant. One of the many things their camp in Afghanistan had lacked was the lush green grass and trees they’d grown up with in their home town of Slipwick, Pennsylvania.
“I miss the lake.” Miles mused over fond memories of the woods near Lake Arthur where his family home was.
His father had built their house—it was really more of a cabin—from the ground up, right on the lake’s and comp
letely off the beaten trail. It was farther from town than most of Miles’s friends when he’d been in school, but he’d never minded since spending every warm weather day on the water had been worth the trek. He’d practically lived for the hours spent in the old canoe, or equally ratty rowboat.
Tobin chuckled, rubbing his hand over his bare head. “You and that damn lake.” He rattled the ice in his cup, pressing the call button a few more times.
A snarl escaped Miles’s lips, swiveling in his seat to shoot his friend an angry glare, any sense of calm gone. “I swear on your fucking life, Tobin, if you press the damn button one more time, I will break your finger clean off,” he barked.
Tobin’s eyes widened, but Miles’s continued seething, his thoughts taking off at a sprint. The incessant ringing from the call button. The ringing in his head.
Ringing like the sound of the first explosion, knocking him to the ground.
“Damn, Miles.” Tobin put his hands up in defense. “Relax.”
Miles blinked and looked around, suddenly self-conscious. He’d drawn the attention of a few neighboring passengers. From the looks of concern on their faces, he’d be lucky if they didn’t call the Air Marshall on him.
Forcing a tight-lipped smile, he sat back in his seat and faced forward. Guilt washed over him when he noticed Tobin still staring at him with a look of suspicion.
“So grass, huh? What’s next after the greenery?” Miles asked.
An unspoken apology passed beneath his question, and Tobin grinned. All was forgiven. It had always been that simple between the two of them. “Hair. I can’t wait to let it grow out and finally meet some women. A lot of women—you remember how chicks loved my hair. I won’t be able to keep up with them all.”