Lights, Camera, Omega (Hollywood Omegas #1)

“I’m an actor.” She crushes the empty paper coffee cup in her little fist, tears threatening at the corner of her eyes.

“Ah! But you still haven’t told us your name, mystery blonde beta starlet!” Since she didn’t oblige me, I provide her with a title, continuing in my mockery since she’s been kind enough to provide such delightful sport.

“Oh please, can you forgive a plebeian such as myself for imposing on your personal space!” she quips, heat high in her cheeks.

A bit of spine, I like a little chase.

“The fault is all mine, prima donna.” I punctuate the routine with a deep bow, perhaps a little too unkindly, because Julian steps in to get me back under control.

“You’ll have to forgive him.” Julian beams, handily nudging me out of the way, offering the young woman his most winning smile.

“He’s absolutely insufferable when he hasn’t had his coffee.” Julian does his best to excuse my bad behavior.

It almost works on her too. I can see her struggle not to swoon under Julian’s megawatt beauty and charisma.

“I still need a coffee, but I’d like to drink the next one rather than wear it,” I add dryly, a little too pleased with myself.

The blonde beta’s aquamarine eyes flash and I can tell I’ve sparked that little flame of anger again, but this time the heat of her rage makes her scent vaporize, wafting from her sun-bronzed decolletage to my nose; fresh cut peony, golden apricot, and warm honey—surprisingly delicious for our stacked little blonde beta.

Before the saucy, golden-haired spitfire can wind up and say something she’ll really regret, Julian loops his arm through mine.

“Our lovely friend probably has somewhere she needs to be, just like you and I!” He calls a little too loudly, a little too cheerfully as he begins to haul me backward off my heels.

As if on cue, Willy Rosenburg, one of the production assistants on Sound Stage E, appears from the craft services tent.

“Daphne Dale!” he booms in a tone not unlike an angry father yelling at his teenage daughter.

“What are you still doin over here?” He barks at our new friend.

“Quit bothering Mr. Wagner! You better get that sweet tuchus over to hair and makeup before Lois has a meltdown.” Willy shuffles her in the direction of Sound Stage E, one finger pressed to the black plastic earpiece attached to the side of his head.

Her expression crumbles, her anger slipping through her fingers for a moment before she turns to both Julian and I with that wide eyed, almost gasping look of pleading, and that stubborn furrow pinches her brows and narrows those big doe eyes again.

Oh, she’s got fire, this one.

I give her a wink, and she’s off in a hurry.

“Oh yes, do take care, Miss Dale! See you in the movies!” I chirp after her. I watch her golden head bobbing in a sea of people as she begins to make her way across the busy set. The poor girl’s blush threatens to burn her up like the surface of the sun.

As soon as she and Willy disappear into the crowd, Julian unhands me.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he hisses at me. I’m surprised to see how genuinely upset he looks.

“What!?” I unfold my sunglasses and balance them back on the bridge of my nose.

“Some little D-lister douses me with coffee and an actually edible sandwich before I’ve even had breakfast, gives me lip about it, and suddenly I’m the asshole?” I huff, incredulous.

“You were practically on top of her,” Julian mumbles, rolling his eyes.

“Hmph, well.” I snort, shifting uncomfortably under the collar of my suit shirt.

“You can tell that we do really need to think about ‘getting back out there’ again, because even though she was just some D-lister beta, I would have liked to be more than on top of her.” I rumble, an unbidden heat roiling deep in my stomach.

Julian’s auburn eyebrows shoot up.

“Does this mean you’ll actually let me go pick up some new scent cards from the agency this week?” He asks cautiously.

I feel the irritation rising in me again.