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81 Hormones, balls and a little bit of style
Last Updated:
2025-11-03 13:46:38
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The Actor's Contract 83 Nightmare on Lombard Street
Date = 1 AugustPlace = San Francisco (Lombard Street)POV - AriaAs we cross the street, I think to myself — it’s the kind of day that tricks you into thinking life has finally settled — sun warm on our backs, laughter bouncing off Lombard’s crooked turns, the city is shining, the dresses are perfect, and for once, nothing hurts — yet.“Let’s go join the boys and have a wonderful dinner together,” Haley suggests. “What do you girls think?” I’m in. Not for the food, but because, for some reason, I miss my man all of a sudden.“I can do with some grub,” Mel agrees. “I’m literally starving.”Ahead, Jackson is standing with River still clinging to him like a baby koala, the tiny person in black between them and the man who looks a lot like Marco, as if stuck in the same position.The rest of the guards are scattered around like it’s some invisible manhunt no one told me about. One’s eyeballing the sky like he expects a sniper to parachute in from a passing seagull, another keeps checking
The Actor's Contract 82 Choosing a dress
Date = 1 AugustPlace = San Francisco (Trixy’s Boutique)POV - Aria“Eh … welcome again to Trixy’s Boutique,” Trixy says, bravely attempting round two of her grand entrance.She’s now flanked by two assistants. One is a short, round girl with cheeks like apples and an expression that says she walked through the wrong portal today and ended up in a live-action soap opera. The other is a tightly-wound forty-something with a bun so aggressive it looks like it’s trying to escape her skull — and pulling her eyelids sideways in the process.This time, finally, Trixy has our full attention. Mainly because we’ve exhausted our daily allotment of penis jokes and rogue-whip commentary.“I’ll be helping the little ones,” the squishy assistant says brightly, her clipboard already out and ready to conquer small chaos. “What kind of dresses did you have in mind for the flower girls?” she asks, eyes landing on me.I glance at Leyla, who’s practically vibrating with joy on her bed. Her little pink bea
The Actor's Contract 81 Hormones, balls and a little bit of style
Date = 1 AugustFifteen days left.Place = San Francisco (Trixy’s Boutique)The best bridal shop in town.POV - AriaTrixy’s Boutique is tucked into a quiet corner of the city — a quaint little place with ivy crawling up its brick face, a curved door, and a little bell that chimes like it belongs in a movie about fairies and hope and people who still believe in happy endings.But the moment the armored Jeeps come to a full stop, reality follows. The bodyguards exit first, scanning the block. Shadows in suits with earpieces and grim faces. They’re silent, mirrored sunglasses, armed beneath their jackets.Somewhere out there is still someone who wants to harm us. And he wasn’t done with us. We don’t say it aloud, but the pressure of it hovers like fog in the summer air.“Okay, ladies,” I say as cheerfully as I can muster, stepping down from the SUV and smoothing my dress. “Let’s go try on some fantasy dresses before the universe throws another plot twist at us.”Inside, it smells of van
The Actor's Contract 80 Chaos, crates and condoms
Date = 30 JulyEveryone got here in record time.Place = San Francisco (Black Pit)And we’re all moving here for safety.POV - AriaThey say moving house is one of the best but most stressful things you can do in life.They say this like it’s a normal process. Like you box up your books and your throw pillows and your cat, and you carry your curated life across town with the assistance of some overly muscular moving men and a U-Haul.What they don’t say is that if your life includes your hunky fiancé, three feral children, and the entirety of the Blackburn-Grimm baggage buffet, moving becomes something else entirely.It becomes hell.Sweet, sentimental, wildly inappropriate hell.We’re officially moving into the newly renovated cottage at Black Pit — the one I woke up in after the warehouse incident. An act of madness I apparently consented to while distracted by Enrique’s dimples and the promise of honeymoon sex.Or maybe because it’s the only option at the moment. We can’t move into
The Actor's Contract 79 Birthday peaches
Date = 25 JulyThe days pass slowly, but uneventfully - no more messages or choices.Place = San Francisco (Inferno)POV - AriaWARNING – Sex scene!!!I am blindfolded.Not in the kinky way, though I won’t have objected. No, this is Enrique’s theatrical kind of blindfold — the silk is so soft it probably has a fancier passport than I do. The elevator beneath my feet hums quietly, rising higher and higher until the quiet ping marks our arrival. I feel his hand tighten around mine.“Are you going to push me off the roof?” I ask, my voice dry. “Because if this is how you’re dealing with your commitment issues, it’s against the contract.”He laughs. That deep, melted-chocolate sound that always makes my stomach do flips.“You should read the fine print first.”The door whooshes open. I smell something sweet — candles? Flowers? Something soft and indulgent in the air, like warmth and peaches. His hand is at the small of my back now, guiding me forward.One step. Two. My heels click against
The Actor's Contract 78 Peachy love
Date = 15 JulyFive days of peace.Place = San Francisco (Inferno penthouse)And we have the whole place to ourselves.POV - EnriqueWARNING – sex scene!!!It’s late.The kind of late where the moon’s done with her shift and even the raccoons have called it a night.I let myself in and find her curled up on the sofa like a sexy little tortilla, fast asleep under a blanket, while some badly dubbed romcom plays in the background. She must’ve passed out halfway through whatever tragic masterpiece it is.I strip with stealth that would make a cat burglar weep with envy and slide in next to her, naked, because I have my priorities straight. Her warm, silky form fits perfectly into mine, like we were built in a lab for spooning. Her nightie — and I use that term loosely, because it’s basically a see-through red piece of cloth — is doing a damn fine job of waking up every dirty thought I’ve ever had. And I’ve had a lot.“Sport?” she mumbles sleepily.Who else? Amazon delivery?“Hi, Batnip,”
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