Twisted Lines (Blurred Lines Volume 6) Read Free Page A

coming.”
    I move faster and faster. My orgasm comes quickly after. When I’m spent, I rest my head against his chest. We’re both breathing heavily. 
    I’m feeling better.

 
     
     
     
     

     
     
    I brought some clothes from Zane’s house and I pull on a pair of gray sweats and a black tee shirt.
    “So, where the hell is Zane?” Cruze asks, grabbing a green apple from a fruit basket on the counter and handing it to me.
    “Thank you.” I take a bite. Sweet juice fills my mouth. He takes an apple as well. “I’m not one hundred percent sure,” I finally say.
    He walks over to the couch and I follow, sitting next to him and clear my throat. I’m not sure what to tell him. The police took all of the documentation proving I’m the new owner of Zane’s production company. They took the million-dollar check. They took everything but the letter and the phone. In a court of law that letter would probably mean nothing and the phone is in my name. No ties to Zane. I could’ve forged the letter or had a friend write it for me. Showing Cruze the letter would feel weird, like it meant nothing. Which isn’t true. The letter means a lot. Too much. And really, I have no idea if any of it is legitimate. For all I know he could’ve made the shit up.  
    “He just took off?”
    I push away our night in the secret pool, the words Zane spoke to me. “I fell asleep and when I woke up, he was gone.”
    “Mother fuck.” Cruze rubs a hand across the top of his head. He finishes his apple, chucks it into a trashcan, and leans forward, resting his arms against his thighs.
    I’m trying to figure him out. He didn’t like Zane. That would’ve been obvious, even if he hadn’t said as much. “Why do you care?” I ask, touching his shoulder.
    He lets out a hard laugh, puts his head into his hands. “My film,” he says after a while.
    And then it all makes sense. Zane leaving might affect Cruze’s career. “Shit.” I open my mouth to tell him I have the power to keep the movie going, but the idea of being in charge scares me. Aside from the past few weeks and what little work I’ve done as Zane’s PFA, I realize how little I know about the movie business. Fucking nothing. Zane had said I could sell it. Maybe that’s what I should do. Somehow. Let someone who knows what they're doing take over.
    “Exactly,” Cruze says.
    “What about the director? What’s his name?”
    “Nigel?”
    I knew his name, but couldn’t bring myself to say it. The guy gave me the creeps. “Yeah, can’t he keep the movie going? Aren’t there others, partners or something that can keep everything running smoothly?”
    He walks over to a small table filled with bottles of alcohol and pours himself a drink. “Want one?”
    It’s not even noon yet, but, as my mom used to say when she’d drink in the morning, “It’s happy hour somewhere.” I decide she’s right and shrug. “What the hell?”
    He pours me a glass and brings it over.
    I take it and he clinks my glass. “To getting fucked by John Zane.” He dumps the liquid down his throat.
    I stare and honestly am feeling a little pissed off. If this is the kind of guy John Cruze is, then I really don’t want to get to know him better. Setting my glass on the coffee table in front of me, I stand. “I’m going to go.”
    He walks over to the bar and pours himself another glass of whatever the fuck he’s drinking. “Why?” he asks, swallowing another mouthful.
    “Because I have no desire to listen to you sulk about your poor fucking life.” The anger is really boiling now and get up in his face. “Waaaaah, poor me. I might have to take a break from my fucking movie. Boohoo, I’m going to have to go on another vacation to Turks and Caicos.” He blinks as though suddenly seeing me for the first time.
    I move to the door and pull it open. “While you’re drowning your sorrows in another five hundred dollar bottle of whatever the fuck that is, I’m going to go back to my