chapter 24

WE LEAVE THE TRAILER, AND Ashton walks with me—slowly because of the heels—toward the manor. Its crumbling vine-covered facade and stained glass windows make it feel old, haunted. Ashton holds a hand out to help me up the steps, but I don't take it, determined to do this on my own—to face Dex with some shred of dignity left.

The rounded doorway looms over my head as I pass through it and into the foyer. It looks even more degraded in here, with scaffolding and other equipment set up around the perimeter of the room to keep the walls from falling away further. The two twin staircases seem to be in working condition, given the group of people standing around on one. A man talks in a big voice, gesturing with his arms, and I get the distinct feeling he's the director. Then the man shifts to one side, and a pair of blue eyes find mine across the space .

My stomach twists, and butterflies burst to life.

Stupid butterflies. They don't know that he's abandoned us.

Standing a bit taller, I hold Dex's stare. I refuse to glance away first, to be the small broken thing he tossed aside in favor of his more expensive toy.

"Ah, Ms. Miller," the director says, noticing me for the first time. He hustles down the stairs, which gives me my first full look at Dex.

He's wearing a black three-piece suit, one hand tucked into the front pocket of his pants. His long blond hair has been left down, styled to look carelessly perfect, and it takes effort not to think about touching it, running my hands through it.

His expression is... guarded. He doesn't smile at me, doesn't even smirk. Instead, his lips are pulled slightly down in the corners, and his brow is furrowed.

And it makes me mad. He doesn't get to look at me like that, doesn't get to pretend to be concerned.

"Ms. Miller, you look perfect," the director says, coming to stand in front of me. With my heels on, I stand about an inch taller than him, and I decide I like how it feels. "Have you ever acted before?" he asks.

I consider just shaking my head and staying silent, then remember I'm channeling that powerful woman staring back at me from the mirror, so instead, I smile and say, "Never. You'll have to teach me." It comes out a bit flirtier than I intended, but the director smiles.

He quickly summarizes the plot of the video, and as he does, my stomach contorts into more and more complicated knots. The video will be about a man searching for his lost love, the one who got away. He'll chase her through the halls, but every time he thinks he's caught her, she vanishes, just an apparition. A ghost.

I'd like the concept if not for how painfully relevant it feels right now. Granted, Dex isn't chasing me anywhere. I'm not so sure he'd care if he never saw me again.

"We'll start with you on the stairs," he says, using his arms to do another big gesture. "You'll descend playing the violin. Walk slowly—we have to get your entire solo in—and then you'll lower the violin, glance over your shoulder longingly, and drift through that doorway." He points to the far door, which is standing open already.

So, he wants me to walk down the stairs in heels while playing the violin. That sounds like a recipe for disaster.

My gaze shifts once more to the staircase, where Dex is still lingering. Some of the crew are flocking around him, but when I look his way, he glances up and catches my eye.

"Mr. Reid will mirror you on the opposite staircase," the director continues. "I want you to look over at him as you play. Think pining, longing . Can we try that?"

He wants me to look like I'm pining? I almost scoff.

The humor is not lost on me.

At that moment, some sort of assistant hurries up beside me, my violin case in her hand.

"Here you go, Ms. Miller."

I take the case from her, and having it in my hand makes me feel a fraction better.

"Okay," I finally say, meeting the director's eyes. "Let's try it."

After I practice descending the staircase in heels—which I actually survive —the director is ready to try it with me playing.

I polished my violin before leaving the house this morning, so it gleams in the dim light streaming through the stained glass windows. The film crew has a bunch of lights set up as well, and they make my skin buzz with warmth.

Dex is standing to my far left, at the top of the other staircase. Dust motes float through the shafts of light cutting through the space between us. His eyes are on me, but he hasn't said a word.

Fine. Two can play at that game.

"Okay, Ms. Miller," the director calls out, "let's give this a try. Don't worry too much about getting it right the first time. We can do it as many times as we need."

Jordan, Alisha, Sebastian, Michael, and Lucas are standing in the foyer. They all—except for Lucas—flash me smiles and encouraging thumbs-ups. I smile back, reminding myself that today I'm channeling confidence .

"Ghost" starts playing over the speakers. I have a few measures until I need to come in, so I take my time lifting my violin and preparing for the solo.

Then I draw my bow across the strings, and I'm caught up immediately in the music.

One step at a time, I descend the stairs slowly. When I have my balance and don't fear missing a step, I look to my left, where Dex is descending the twin staircase. I take in his long legs and the tattoos on the hand he's running down the banister, and the pining in my gaze isn't something I have to fake.

It's just something I have to let free .

He meets my eyes, wearing a similar expression. There's hurt in his gaze, pain, but I don't let myself believe it could be real. He's acting for the video; he's just doing a great job of it.

Remembering the director's instructions, I time the speed of my walking with the length of the solo. I hit the last step in sync with the last note and draw it out with a thick vibrato. Then I lower my bow and violin, cast a longing glance at Dex over my shoulder, and stride the other direction, through the doorway.

"Cut!" the director yells.

I take a moment to compose myself, then return to the foyer.

Jordan and Alisha give me beaming smiles, and Michael pats me on the back gently, careful to avoid ruffling my hair.

"It was perfect," the director says. "Nora, you are the epitome of talent." He kisses me on the cheek, then waves a hand in the air. "Let's do it one more time, just for assurance, and then we'll move on."

Across the foyer, Dex meets my eyes, but I don't give him anything—not a smile, or a frown, or a single tear. I just turn and climb the staircase, ready to get this damn thing over with.

We film a number of scenes, the majority featuring Dex lip-synching over the lyrics and looking haunted while searching the deteriorating halls for his lost love. Sebastian stands with me when neither of us are filming, and he keeps handing me Skittles from a bag he's carrying in his pocket.

"All right, we're ready for the final scene," the director says, and his eyes find me from down the hall .

I've been dreading this since Ashton told me about it. This will be the only scene Dex and I have to film face-to-face. So far, I've been incredibly lucky to not have to speak to him, touch him, or even be too near him. But now that the day is coming to an end, I have to film the most difficult scene yet.

An intimacy coordinator worked out all the details with me earlier, ensuring I was comfortable. But now, as the whole film crew heads upstairs to the master bedroom for the last scene, I'm starting to feel sick—not because I don't want Dex to touch me or be near me, but because I want it too much, and this is only going to serve as a reminder of what I can't have.

What he so easily took away from me.

It's not a sex scene—I don't think they would ever have asked me to film one of those—but it is supposed to be sensual, a remembrance of better times for the male lead, before he let his lover slip away and she became a ghost in his mind. And I'm the lover, the phantom who haunts the halls and his mind, present but always out of reach.

We step into the master bedroom, and I pause for a moment to take everything in. The walls are painted a rich royal blue, and the furnishings are all luxuriously gilded. There's a vanity against the wall, sheer drapes over the windows, and a four-poster bed in the middle of the room. It feels like stepping into a nineteenth-century estate.

I'm hustled through the doorway by the film crew, who immediately start setting up lights for their shots. The director steps in a moment later, Dex behind him, and I try not to tense up when they head in my direction.

"Ms. Miller, I take it our coordinator discussed this scene with you?" the director asks. His hair is frizzed up from all the times he ran his hands through it today, and I'm pretty sure I watched him drink at least four coffees.

"She did." My voice comes out strong, and I don't bother to glance at Dex as he drifts closer.

"Great. Here's how this is gonna go."

He summarizes the three scenes he intends to film: one in front of the curtains as the evening light streams in, one at the vanity, and one on the bed. I strive not to react when he reminds me what we'll be doing in the bed: rolling around, laughing, kissing.

Acting like we love each other.

"Will that be okay, Ms. Miller?" the director asks.

I consider it. The thought gives me flashes of being pushed up against Dex's glass doors, his chain wrapped around my wrists, and the want I still have for him flares to life. Angrily, I shove it down.

He doesn't want me.

"Perhaps you should ask Mr. Reid," I say back, my voice perfectly neutral.

Dex looks over at me sharply, his lips pulling down. He's still wearing that same expression from earlier today, and I still can't quite work out what it is.

But I shouldn't care what it is, shouldn't care about him .

The director quirks an eyebrow, his gaze sliding from me to Dex. "Mr. Reid? Will there be a problem?"

"No." He holds my gaze as he says it, and something about it lights a fire in me.

How dare he do this to me. How dare he make me fall for him and then act like we're strangers.

My whole body burns with heat. I cherish that fire, stoke it so it won't go out.

"Okay then..." The director seems unsure, but he doesn't push. "We'll start at the window."

We move toward the window, which is open, allowing the early-evening breeze to sweep in and fill the room with the soft scent of spring. The drapes billow gently, and if I weren't low-key enraged right now, I might think it beautiful, perhaps even romantic.

As it is, I move with angry purpose, following the director's instructions as he stages me in front of the window.

"Look out the window with a soft gaze," he says, "as if you're daydreaming about something. When Mr. Reid comes up behind you, I want you to turn into him, just a bit, and smile like it's the first time you're seeing him all day."

I nod and intentionally smooth the angry crease from my brow. Behind me, the director gives Dex additional instructions, but I'm too busy focusing on breathing steadily in and out to overhear what he has to say.

"Cue music!" the director shouts. "Ghost" starts playing over a speaker in the corner of the room. "And... action."

I focus my gaze out the window, trying to keep my eyes soft despite the anger bubbling just under the surface. Dex's shoes click softly across the floor behind me. My body wants to tense, knowing he's about to reach out, but I keep myself loose.

Then his hand is on the low of my back, fingertips gliding across the shimmery silver material of my dress, and I'm turning to look up at him. I try to hold the director's words in my head, but when I make eye contact with Dex, so close I could reach out and kiss him, I freeze up.

His eyes are like ice in the golden sunlight cutting through the window. They're cold, hard, but something else too. He's wearing that same frustrating look he's had on his face all day.

I'm not sure what my face does, but it must not be right, because the director calls, "Cut!"

Dex hesitates for one moment, then two. Finally, he takes his hand off my back and steps away.

"Let's try that again," the director says. "Softer faces, both of you. And smile . You're supposed to be in love."

I let out a scoff, and the director glances at me, but he doesn't ask for an explanation. Behind him, two women in the film crew exchange knowing looks.

"Reset!"

The music turns off, and Dex and I go back to our original spots to try again.

It takes a few more tries to get the window scene right, and then the vanity scene goes by quickly. I just have to sit there pretending to touch up my makeup while Dex watches and smiles at me in the background. But then it's time for the last scene: the bed scene.

There's a quick wardrobe change, and they bring in one of those folding screens for me to get changed behind. I slip out of the silver dress, then into a sexy white nightgown that shows the majority of my back and has lace along the edges. A silky robe goes over the top, and one of the stylists tousles my hair a bit to make it look softer.

When I'm done and they move the screen away, Dex is waiting on the other side. He's sitting at the end of the bed, shirtless, completely tatted up, wearing just his black pants now. His blue eyes latch on to me, then sweep up and down my body .

It makes me feel powerful. But why ? Why can I still draw his gaze? I'm not Serena, will never be Serena. So why is he looking at me like that?

The director swoops in, offering guidance for how he wants the scene to go. I listen in a vague sort of way, but really, I'm just remembering that day at Dex's house, the look on his face when I asked him what I meant to him.

And he told me without saying a thing: Nothing. I mean nothing to him.

The director has the camera crew move to the side of the bed so they can film us at the end of it.

Once everyone is ready to go, he calls, "Action!"

I paste a fake smile onto my lips and move toward Dex. His hands come up to touch my hips, and it's not acting when I soften into his touch. Slowly, almost hesitantly, Dex leans his head in so it's resting just below my sternum, his arms snaking around my body to pull me into an embrace.

And again, I need no direction. I lower my head, bury my face in his hair. He smells fresh, and the scent of his shampoo takes me back to the shower we shared, when he touched me so tenderly, placed kisses along my bare shoulders. I move my fingers through his hair, and his arms tighten in response.

He's acting , I remind myself. This isn't real.

The director calls for us to cut, and if I didn't know better, I'd think Dex hesitated a moment longer than necessary before releasing me. I step away and turn my face so I can't see his eyes.

The director has us switch it up now so that we're both lying in the bed. Dex still hasn't said a word to me. Not a word .

The music starts up, and Dex's vocals bleed through the speakers.

"I'm just a ghost without her, wandering in the cold, caught in the shadows of a love story I never let get told. I let her slip away, too scared to face the truth. Now I'm haunted by her absence in this lonely fuckin' youth."

The song lyrics meant little to me while we were recording, but now they hit me hard, right in the stomach.

The music continues to play, and now the cameras are rolling.

"I see her face in every shadow, hear her voice in every sound. But she's gone, lost to the dark, and I'm left here to drown. I was a fool to let her go, blinded by my fear. Now I'm left with nothing but the ghost of her so near."

Dex meets my eyes as I shift in the bed, slipping one bare leg over his body so I'm straddling him, but it feels like he doesn't see me, like he's looking right through me.

Maybe I really am a ghost.

"I'm just a ghost without her, a specter of my past, haunted by the memories that continue to amass. I let her slip away, too scared to love for real. Now I'm haunted by her absence and the pain that I conceal."

I move in for the kiss, reaching for his lips with mine, waiting for the sensation I've yearned for all these weeks. But at the last moment, Dex pulls back.

"I can't do this," he says. His hands are gentle even as they push me away.

Humiliation swirls inside me. All these people are watching, and he refuses to kiss me? Suddenly, I can't hold my anger and hurt back any longer .

"Why not?" I snap. "You had no problem before." I search his gaze until he averts his eyes. I'm still straddling him, his hands on my hips, but he refuses to look at me. Angry tears burn my eyes.

I told myself I wouldn't cry, didn't want to give Dex the satisfaction of seeing how badly he hurt me. But I can't seem to keep them at bay. One streaks down my cheek, probably taking my mascara with it.

"Is it something I did?" My voice is quieter, and it seems to draw Dex's eyes. He's looking at me now, watching as another tear streaks down my cheek. "Or am I just a game you don't want to play anymore? Is that it?"

He opens his mouth, and I hold my breath, waiting to hear his explanation. Maybe he'll finally tell me what I meant to him. But then he just closes his mouth again, eyes averting once more.

Rage rips through me, and I shove his chest, forcing him back into the pillows.

"You are such an asshole." Slapping his hands off my hips, I climb out of the bed, silky robe sliding around my bare legs. When I whirl around to face him, he's sitting up, watching me. "They warned me about you. I knew I shouldn't get involved. But I was stupid." More tears are streaking down my cheeks now. "So, so stupid."

His brow furrows, eyes a strange combination of soft and guarded. "Nora," he says, and the sound of my name on his tongue does something to me—something it shouldn't. It reminds me of all the times he said it before, of the shape his mouth made against mine, and suddenly, I can't look at him anymore, can't stand to be in his presence .

"Fuck you," I whisper. "I never want to see you again."

I whirl and stride from the room, only now noticing the director kept the cameras rolling the whole time. One is aimed directly at my tear-streaked face, but I don't even care. I just have to get out of here.

The film crew parts around me, watching with excited and awestruck expressions. They don't try to stop me. My feet hit the stairs, and I descend as quickly as I can, the silky robe fluttering behind me. My violin case is around here somewhere; I just need to find it, and then I can leave.

"Nora?" Glancing to the right, I find Jordan and Alisha standing in the doorway, blinking at me in surprise. Jordan steps forward. "What's wrong?"

"Dex—" My words are cut off by a sob.

Alisha and Jordan exchange a knowing look, then immediately surge toward me. They wrap their arms around my shoulders, enveloping me in lavender-scented warmth.

"I'm so sorry," Jordan says.

"He's a dick," Alisha puts in.

"Such a dick," Jordan agrees.

They fawn over me, whispering about what a fuckboy Dex is and stroking soft hands over my hair. And I appreciate it, I really do, but all I want right now is to get out of here. I can't be in the same space as him anymore.

"Have you seen my violin?" I ask, voice still warbling with tears.

"Yeah, I did." Alisha pulls away, her brown eyes sweeping the foyer. "I'm pretty sure it's in here." She disappears momentarily, then comes back with my case held in one hand. "Here you go. "

"Thanks." I take it from her and wipe a hand under my eye. I can only imagine how messy I must look. "I'm going home."

"You want us to come with you?" Jordan offers. She's playing with a strand of my hair, brow creased in concern.

"No, that's okay. I just need to get out of here. I'll be fine."

We exchange final hugs and parting words, and just as I'm pulling away, there's movement on the balcony above us.

I turn and look up, and my stomach clenches.

Dex is standing there, still shirtless, staring down at me. The cameras follow along behind him. He's beautiful, too beautiful. It makes me hurt to look at him.

Jordan and Alisha cross their arms, faces pinching into scathing glares.

I don't honor him with another second of my time. Instead, I hurry for the door, and I don't look back again.

This will be the last time Dex Reid ever hurts me.

Never again , I tell myself. Never again.