Risk Taker by Sonia Stanizzo
Chapter 4
When they arrived at Nancy’s apartment, Nancy flicked on lights and gave her a tour as they passed through rooms decorated with modern furniture and splashes of colour. In the living room, Holly stopped at a set of shelves filled with books, trinkets and photos.
“Is this Ethan?” She picked up a frame of a tall lanky teenager with a serious expression.
“Yes, he’s about fifteen.” Nancy smiled.
Nancy showed Holly to a guest room; with white sheer curtains, a bedspread with a pastel floral print and a rosy pink floor rug and gave her a large t-shirt to sleep in. Flopping down onto the soft mattress, she stared at the ceiling. After one night of pretending to be a makeup artist, something burned deep in her gut. The passion her parents turned their noses up at and pushed aside as some silly hobby because it wasn’t as prestigious as working for the family business, flared into a raging fire.
Holly couldn’t remember the last time she’d had such a great time. She hadn’t been this happy in months. Nothing was as fun as playing with makeup and drawing bullet holes on actor’s headshots. Ethan Doyle got one right between the eyes. Nancy laughed at her creation but informed her he was only having light bruising.
To make the night even better, Nancy volunteered to be Holly’s practice dummy. An actor needed scarring from a burn on their face for tomorrow’s scene and she wanted Holly to create the look.
“Wow.” Nancy had turned her head to the side to inspect Holly’s work in the mirror. “This’s fantastic. You’re extremely talented.”
“Thanks, but you told me what to do.”
“You applied the makeup. You’re a natural.” The compliment had expanded her heart with happiness.
She’d found her happy place. Unfortunately, it ended tonight because tomorrow she’d use the last of her money to buy another ticket to Melbourne.
Would her parents make her admit moving to Sydney was a mistake? Probably. Even at twenty-four her parents, especially her mother made her feel like a child.
Sighing heavily, she curled under the soft blankets and soon thoughts of Ethan drifted to her mind. While filming, he’d glanced at her like dirt under his shoe and then in the trailer, she hadn’t missed the spark from his gaze. It was the outfit, she was sure. It still gave her a tiny thrill that a famous actor checked her out. She didn’t have time for hot and cold signals. She didn’t have time for signals, period. Because she was done with men who jerked her around. Not that Ethan Doyle would ever take things further. He had Victoria Martin to go home to.
She could tell by the way Ethan Doyle dressed, he appreciated class. She recognised an Armani suit when she saw one, her father had a wardrobe filled with them. A small-time actress—which is what he assumed she was—would be low on his radar. She’d bet her last eighty-six dollars and forty-five cents on it. Luckily for her, she didn’t care about Ethan Doyle and so her pathetic amount of money was safe.
Eventually, the events of the day caught up to her and exhaustion pulled her into a deep sleep.
* * *
The house was dark as Ethan let himself through the front door. He didn’t want to wake and startle his mother by switching on any lights. He knew the apartment well enough to navigate through blind. When he reached the guest bedroom, he headed straight for the en-suite, stripped out of his clothes and stepped into the shower. He planted his hands on the smooth tiles, dropped his head between his shoulders and enjoyed the hot water pouring over his neck and down his back. Tension from the long day eased from his muscles. Turning off the water before it grew cold, he grabbed a blue, fluffy towel from the rack and dried himself.
“Oh my God!”
Someone screeched behind him as he was towel drying his hair.
He spun around.
It was that woman—Holly, whom he’d fantasied about earlier. She stood in the bathroom, eyes wide, her mouth open. Then like she’d realised she shouldn’t be looking at him, covered them with her hand.
“I didn’t know anyone was in here,” she said.
He could have sworn her fingers cracked open slightly as she spoke. He smirked. “I didn’t know anyone would walk in. What are you doing here?”
“Your mother asked me to stay the night,” she answered, still not taking away her hand even though he knew she could see him through the gaps of her fingers. He made no move to cover up.
Why would his mother invite an actress to stay? Was Holly using her to get to him? It wouldn’t be the first time a woman had pulled that trick. “You don’t have to hide your eyes. I know you can see me. I’m not shy.”
She dropped her hand and spun around, her back to him. “I wasn’t looking.”
He chuckled not believing her for a second.
Shuffling on her bare feet, she drew his attention to the black t-shirt barely concealing her perky, round arse which showcased tanned, toned legs. His mouth grew dry and his dick grew hard. He used the towel still in his hands to shield himself.
She cleared her throat. “I should leave you alone. Your mum said I could stay. I didn’t expect you’d be here…” Her voice came out a little husky and man did more blood rush down to an already raging hard-on. She hesitated for a beat, then hurried out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
Blowing out a long breath, he shoved his fingers through his wet hair. The cute girl-next-door impression he originally classified her as, flew out of the window. In a t-shirt that barely covered her pert arse and tousled bed hair, she was sexy as hell.