Bad Romeo Christmas: A Starcrossed Anthology by Leisa Rayven Page A
Authors: Leisa Rayven
other woman on the planet, forever."
Cassie smiles. "Did it ever occur to you that Erika knew exactly what she was doing when she cast us together?"
I let out a short laugh. "All the time. That woman constantly manipulated us into being intimate, so we'd have to face our connection. Which reminds me, I'm due to send her my annual ‘thank you’ gift basket. It's the least I can do."
Cassie traces my lips with her forefinger. "If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."
As she recites Romeo’s lines, she gazes at me like I have the power to make the world turn. I'll never get tired of her looking at me like that. Ever.
I lean down and taste her lips. She kisses me back, warm and eager, and it's not long before I pull back, dizzy and intoxicated. As much as I'd like to make love to her again, it's almost sunrise, and we silently agree that a few hours of sleep are preferable to no sleep at all.
When she snuggles into my chest, I put my arm around her and stroke her side. After a few minutes, her breathing evens out and her body goes limp.
I look down at her sleeping like an angel in my arms and smile.
"My bounty," I whisper, "is as boundless as the sea. My love as deep. The more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite."
And with that, I kiss her forehead and drift off to sleep. As usual, I dream only of my sweet, astonishing Juliet.
Part Two: The Naughty List
ONE
You'd Better Watch Out
November 26th, Present Day
Kodak Theater
Los Angeles, California
If there were an award for dealing with gross incompetence without murdering someone, I should be winning it right now. I'm not usually a violent person, but the epic fuck-uppery with which I'm currently dealing isn't normal.
"Miss Holt!" I turn to see Ainsly, our harried production assistant, scurrying toward me. "There's a car blocking the loading dock, and the florist is trying to deliver a whole truckload of arrangements for the red carpet."
"Put a call over the loud speaker. If the car isn't gone in five minutes, have it towed."
"Got it."
"And why isn't this stage cleared? We have to start rehearsals in an hour."
"Oh, well ... I did tell the mechs they need to hurry."
"And?"
"They ... uh ... well, they laughed at me."
Of course they did. She's pretty, blonde, and polite. The macho pinheads who run the rigging clearly need a petite blonde bitch to sort them out.
"Okay, Ainsly. I'll handle it. Where's James?"
"Not sure. I saw him talking to the publicist about red carpet arrivals about an hour ago but haven't seen him since."
James is the new assistant stage manager I hired when my best friend abandoned me, and although he talks a good game, I've barely seen him all morning. I have no idea what he's doing, but I'm damn sure he's doing it half as efficiently as Josh would have.
"Fine," I say, as I make a mental note to add James to the list of people I want to assault. "Get those dressing rooms finished, okay? Can't have the biggest A-list celebrities in Hollywood dealing with dirt and grime like normal people."
"Yes, Miss Holt."
I sigh and rub my eyes as she disappears into the throng of people bustling around backstage.
Tonight is the inaugural celebrity benefit concert for Liam's dyslexia charity, The James Quinn Foundation, and not only is Liam overseas filming in Mongolia of all places, I'm having to cope with a super tight production schedule in an unfamiliar theater without my right-hand man. I haven't had to deal with this kind of pressure without Josh for so long, I'd forgotten how much I hate it.
I shoot off a quick text.
Then another.
After a few seconds, my phone vibrates with a response.
Cassie smiles. "Did it ever occur to you that Erika knew exactly what she was doing when she cast us together?"
I let out a short laugh. "All the time. That woman constantly manipulated us into being intimate, so we'd have to face our connection. Which reminds me, I'm due to send her my annual ‘thank you’ gift basket. It's the least I can do."
Cassie traces my lips with her forefinger. "If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."
As she recites Romeo’s lines, she gazes at me like I have the power to make the world turn. I'll never get tired of her looking at me like that. Ever.
I lean down and taste her lips. She kisses me back, warm and eager, and it's not long before I pull back, dizzy and intoxicated. As much as I'd like to make love to her again, it's almost sunrise, and we silently agree that a few hours of sleep are preferable to no sleep at all.
When she snuggles into my chest, I put my arm around her and stroke her side. After a few minutes, her breathing evens out and her body goes limp.
I look down at her sleeping like an angel in my arms and smile.
"My bounty," I whisper, "is as boundless as the sea. My love as deep. The more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite."
And with that, I kiss her forehead and drift off to sleep. As usual, I dream only of my sweet, astonishing Juliet.
Part Two: The Naughty List
ONE
You'd Better Watch Out
November 26th, Present Day
Kodak Theater
Los Angeles, California
If there were an award for dealing with gross incompetence without murdering someone, I should be winning it right now. I'm not usually a violent person, but the epic fuck-uppery with which I'm currently dealing isn't normal.
"Miss Holt!" I turn to see Ainsly, our harried production assistant, scurrying toward me. "There's a car blocking the loading dock, and the florist is trying to deliver a whole truckload of arrangements for the red carpet."
"Put a call over the loud speaker. If the car isn't gone in five minutes, have it towed."
"Got it."
"And why isn't this stage cleared? We have to start rehearsals in an hour."
"Oh, well ... I did tell the mechs they need to hurry."
"And?"
"They ... uh ... well, they laughed at me."
Of course they did. She's pretty, blonde, and polite. The macho pinheads who run the rigging clearly need a petite blonde bitch to sort them out.
"Okay, Ainsly. I'll handle it. Where's James?"
"Not sure. I saw him talking to the publicist about red carpet arrivals about an hour ago but haven't seen him since."
James is the new assistant stage manager I hired when my best friend abandoned me, and although he talks a good game, I've barely seen him all morning. I have no idea what he's doing, but I'm damn sure he's doing it half as efficiently as Josh would have.
"Fine," I say, as I make a mental note to add James to the list of people I want to assault. "Get those dressing rooms finished, okay? Can't have the biggest A-list celebrities in Hollywood dealing with dirt and grime like normal people."
"Yes, Miss Holt."
I sigh and rub my eyes as she disappears into the throng of people bustling around backstage.
Tonight is the inaugural celebrity benefit concert for Liam's dyslexia charity, The James Quinn Foundation, and not only is Liam overseas filming in Mongolia of all places, I'm having to cope with a super tight production schedule in an unfamiliar theater without my right-hand man. I haven't had to deal with this kind of pressure without Josh for so long, I'd forgotten how much I hate it.
I shoot off a quick text.
Then another.
After a few seconds, my phone vibrates with a response.
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