Caught on Camera (Black Towers Book 1) Read online

  “Glad you find this so fucking funny.” Cole’s voice dripped with sarcasm. Yeah, he was certain that Regina was behind this. No one else would have had access to the video… no one else would have had any reason to release it into the wild.

  If he’d had any soft feelings left for her at all, this move on her part had just ground them into dust.

  “So give it to me straight.” Ethan propped his booted feet up onto desk. “You’ve been so gung-ho about Georgia Evans playing the lead in Love Me Harder. Is this why? You want to fuck her again? Because she has a nice, tight little ass and all, but I need talent and a cute tushie.”

  No, getting Georgia into bed wasn’t it at all, but Cole didn’t bother explaining it. Ethan Black might have been a creative genius, but he had the sensitivity of a toad. Trying to explain that he needed some closer with the girl who had been the love of his life would go right over the other man’s head.

  "I'm going to have to postpone our meeting." Brusquely, Cole turned away from the producer, his temper about to boil out of control. He needed to get the hell out of here before his anger at Regina and at the whole damn situation made him lash out.

  “Stay.” Ethan gestured toward the chair on the other side of his desk. “I’ll call publicity in; we can talk about how to turn this sex tape into the biggest thing that ever happened to Love Me Harder.”

  Right. And that sounded about as much fun as a bullet in the brain. “You brainstorm without me. I have to go take care of some shit.”

  "But—"

  "I said not now!" His temper had thickened the tension in the room to a soupy mess, so Cole forced his shoulders to relax and pushed his spiky, sandy hair from his face. Just seeing Georgia again, even if it was only on video, was making him lose his shit. He had to get a grip. "Look, I just… I need to go take care of some personal stuff that this video has brought up. Okay? I can’t do this right now.”

  Like, he needed to go have it out with Regina before she did something even worse.

  “I don't know what the fuck has gotten into you, but you better work through it.” Ethan straightened in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Look, I’m sorry one of your exes is a bitch and the other is now a porn star. But I have a production schedule to keep, and you've signed a contract.”

  Referring to Georgia as a porn star made Cole’s fists clench again, but he sucked in a deep breath and forced himself to chill out. Ethan was right—he had signed the contract. He could get another job if he walked, but this project had the potential to bring him into Georgia’s world again… and also, he didn’t back out on his word. Ever.

  “Give me a day.” Cole stared at the other man impassively. He knew Ethan would agree to it—knew that Ethan wanted him on this project as much as Cole wanted to be on it. “Just twenty-four hours. Then you can haul me into all of the meetings you want.”

  “I hope she's worth it, Anderson. I sincerely hope she’s fucking worth it.” Ethan shook his head, huffing out a breath in disgust.

  Cole ignored him, instead pushing out of the producer’s office. The curiosity in the waiting room was a dense cloud, but he ignored it, shoving his way out of Sunrise Productions.

  Owen was waiting outside the door, as Cole had assumed. The security guard stuck closely to his side as Cole stormed out of the building and back to his waiting car. The life-sucking paparazzi were still there, shouting questions around him, but they were all speaking on top of each other and they were difficult to make out. Still, a few of them reached his ears, and they only fueled his fury.

  “When did you make the tape? Is it recent? Does Regina know?”

  “Is Georgia pregnant with your baby?”

  “Are you getting back together?”

  He knew he’d never gotten over Georgia, but this… these fucking vultures pecking away for a story? He felt like he was spiraling out of control, and somehow taking her with him.

  Slamming the car door behind him, he slid his sunglasses back onto his eyes. He leaned back in the leather seat as Fred aggressively worked the car through the throngs of people/

  He wouldn’t let himself lose control. Not now, not ever again.

  Nature’s Way Supermarket, One Hour Later

  Salad sucked.

  What Georgia really wanted was a hot fudge sundae. No—a banana split. Creamy mounds of vanilla ice cream, fudge sauce, strawberries, whipped cream…

  But salad was the tradeoff for life as an actress. Especially one who was currently out of work.

  Yep. Salad. Mountains and mountains of salad.

  Wrinkling her nose at the brightly colored vegetables laid out in front of her at the organic salad bar, Georgia grabbed her takeout bowl and tongs and started picking at the lettuce. She could have recited the calories and nutritional info for each type.

  Raw kale—seven grams of carbohydrate in one cup. Two grams of protein. 33 calories.

  Arugula—same serving size. Four grams of carbs, two of protein. Two of fiber. 25 calories, but one gram of fat.

  She could do this all fucking day. And when what she really wanted was a greasy chili dog with cheese, a slice of deep-dish pepperoni pizza, a platter of nachos… well, who really cared about caloric differences in rabbit food?

  She made it about half way through the bar before her phone vibrated in her pocket. Balancing the tongs on the takeout bowl, she glanced at the screen and pursed her lips. It was her agent. Again. This was the third time the woman called this morning.

  "Give it up Sharon.” With a stab of anxiety, Georgia swiped the call through to voicemail. She knew that if Sharon was actually, finally taking the time to call her, then she should probably answer—heaven knew, she could use any good news the woman could send her way.

  But she was still feeling a little bit raw over how scarce the woman had been in the last two years—ever since Georgia had been hard-up for work. She knew she shouldn’t take it personally—at the end of the day, Sharon was her agent, not a friend, and that meant that she went where the money was.

  Still, it stung. Pinching her lips together, Georgia resumed her lackluster perusal of the salad bar and sighed.

  “Are you Georgia Evans?”

  Georgia didn’t recognize the voice. She glanced up at the stranger on the other side of the small stand. “Yeesss.”

  She frowned a bit as she spoke. She’d been out of work, out of the spotlight for a long time. She didn’t get approached very often anymore.

  The man dragged his gaze down to her breasts and nodded, his lips curving into a salacious smile. “Nice.”

  “Excuse me?” She blinked. Had this man really just complimented her tits in the middle of Whole Foods?

  Well, weirder things had happened.

  “I like your work.” The man dragged his gaze back up to her face and smiled. He was being perfectly friendly, but still, he made her feel… icky.

  “I haven't done any films in years.” Georgia arched an eyebrow. Fans would often come up with stories, with lies, to bring themselves closer to their idols, but this still just felt off.

  Snickering, he pulled out his card. “Sure, baby. But if you ever want to make another movie, give me a call.”

  Georgia frowned and cautiously took the car. “Okay, then.”

  Go away, weird guy. Just go the hell away and leave me with my lettuce.

  “Damn.” He slid his gaze over her body once more, hunger evident on his face. He smiled lecherously at her breasts before finally backing away. “You just say the word, sweet thing. Together, we’ll make that tape you did with Cole Anderson look like child's play.”

  “Are you talking about Jungle Heat?” This was the film she and Cole had met on the set of, a coming-of-age story targeted to the audience of the eighties smash Blue Lagoon. But… well, it had been child’s play. That had been the whole point. The story had focused on moving from childhood to adulthood, and the loss of innocence that came with it.

  And why had he called it a tape?

  U
gh. Why did she always get the crazies?

  “You know what I’m talking about.” His grin widened as he held up two fingers. “Peace, babe.”

  Georgia’s relief that he was leaving turned to complete shock when the man turned his hand around and wiggled his tongue in between his fingers in a hugely obscene gesture. By the time she got her wits together enough to ream him out, the asshole had already disappeared behind one of the aisles.

  What the hell?

  Glancing around to confirm no one else had witnessed the exchange, because wouldn’t that look great in the tabloids, Georgia glanced down at the card in her hand.

  Jamal Walker, IT Consultant.

  IT Consultant? As far as she knew, IT people had nothing to do with getting people into movies. She dropped the card and picked up her salad bowl, but her skin was prickling with awareness. When she looked around, she saw people—like, more than one—blatantly staring at her.

  “Can I help you?” Another man had approached the salad bar, but he hurried away as Georgia pinned him with a stare. Helplessly she ran a hand over her hair. With the messy waves up in a bun, no makeup on her face, and dressed in just jeans and a T-shirt, she knew she didn’t look her best, but she didn’t think she was gawk-worthy.

  What was going on?

  Her phone vibrated once more, and Georgia made a frustrated noise as she pulled it out of her pocket. She prepared to swipe it through to voicemail again, pausing when she realized that this time her agent had texted rather than calling. Curious, Georgia set down her container yet again and swiped the screen to look at the text.

  This went viral about an hour ago. You might want to take a look.

  Fingers suddenly numb, Georgia clicked on the link, her phone immediately taking her to a video. Immediately a chorus of sexy moans blasted out of her phone and she scrambled to turn the volume down.

  Onscreen, a woman she knew all too well was getting well and truly fucked by a man that still made Georgia’s blood pound. The couple cavorted across the screen, heating up the sheets in a suite at what was unmistakably the Rue Luxe in Paris. Lying in plain view on the bedside table was a butterfly vibrator and a few other kinky-looking toys.

  This was one of the videos that she and Cole had shot together years ago—a tape that caught every dirty detail of one of their most intimate moments.

  “Shit.” How had this gotten out? The only person who would have had access to it was… Cole.

  She should have been long past being able to be hurt by him, but the realization shredded what was left of her heart.

  Georgia quickly shoved her phone back into her pocket—she needed to get the hell out of here. But when she looked up she realized that she’d somehow become the center of a very large crowd. A man in a tie and Whole Foods uniform was frantically trying to organize the herd.

  “That's not me.” Panic clawed at her throat. And it wasn’t pure denial—that wasn’t her. Not the woman she was now, anyway.

  “Sure looks like you.” It was the asshole who’d given her his card, smirking right at the front of the crowd who’d assembled, cell phones out, filming away.

  “Hey, Georgia!” Something flashed off to her right. Whirling instinctively, Georgia found a vaguely familiar tabloid reporter grinning back at her. His shutter clicked rapidly as she stared at him like a deer in headlights, frozen in place with adrenaline.

  This was too much. She needed to get the hell out of here.

  “Get out of my way!” Shoving past the reporter, who just laughed, Georgia pulled out her phone and started texting her agent as she ran for the parking lot. The crowd followed, shouting questions and taking photos as Georgia shut herself in her car and quickly locked the doors.

  For a moment she sat there, her breath rasping in and out as she took in the fact that even her car was completely surrounded. What was she going to do? She’d never been in this kind of situation before.

  It was surreal to think that just ten minutes ago she’d nonchalantly strolled into a grocery store to pick up some lunch. She did this at least three times a week, and she was rarely bothered.

  But this—even back when she’d been at the height of her fame, the circus surrounding her hadn’t been like this. This—these people were vultures, out to catch their own fifteen minutes by stomping all over hers.

  For one teetering moment she felt her throat burn and her eyes gloss over. She was completely overwhelmed.

  “Show us your tits!” Someone banged on Georgia’s car window, and instantly the tears morphed into rage. Slowly she turned her head and locked eyes with the speaker, a teenage boy of about fifteen.

  What she felt was channeled out through her eyes, and within moments the kid visibly wilted and faded back into the crowd. Slamming the car into drive, Georgia began to inch forward, slowly enough that if she bumped anyone they wouldn’t get hurt, but steadily enough to show that she was leaving now.

  At the exit to the parking lot she saw the red and blue flashing lights of two of LA’s finest, bringing out barricades and holding back the crowd. One gestured her through, and she stepped on the gas gratefully, speeding down the street, not relaxing until she’d exited onto the relative anonymity of the highway.

  The only thing she’d wanted since leaving rehab was to put the past behind her. But how was she supposed to do that when her most intimate moments were dragged up and put in front of the entire world to see.

  Chapter Two

  “Yes, I’ve seen the video. And hell yes, I’d do Georgia Evans.”

  -Cara DeLeon, model/ actress

  “Who released that tape?” Georgia slid into the chair opposite her agent’s desk and crossed her arms. She’d come straight here from Whole Foods, and she was still shaking. “Who the fuck released that tape?”

  Taking off her thick-rimmed glasses, Sharon leaned back in her chair. Though the woman hadn’t gone so far as to dump Georgia when her career had derailed, it had been a very long time since they’d met face to face. The last time Georgia had seen her, Sharon's dark, curly hair wasn't yet graying at the temples, and she hadn’t yet had fine lines framing her eyes and lips.

  “We’ll get that to that in a minute.” Sharon tossed her glasses on her desk. “How are you holding up?”

  “I'm fine.” Georgia looked down at her hands, her fingers still trembling, though she wasn’t entirely sure if it was with rage or nerves or both.

  “Are you sure?” Sharon’s voice was no-nonsense, as usual, but even though she hadn’t seen the woman in years, Georgia could still hear the thread of concern.

  “Well, I just got accosted by some perverts over the arugula at Whole Foods.” Georgia shrugged, then looked up and met Sharon’s eyes. “But am I right in assuming that it’s going to give me some notoriety that will get me work?”

  Sharon winced, just a bit, but Georgia caught it.

  “Come on, Sharon, let’s not be delicate.” Georgia had jumped off that train long before she’d hit rehab. “This sucks. And when I find out who released that tape, it’s not going to be pretty. But if I’m going to go through this shitstorm in the media, at least let’s try to get me some momentum out of it.”

  She had to get some movement, because the savings from her teen years had almost dried up. She’d started acting when she was a kid—it was the only thing she knew how to do.

  “Well, you’re not wrong.” Sharon sighed. “Look, I’ve sat on this offer for a bit, because honestly, you’ve been so negative about the last few jobs that I’ve had for you that I didn’t think you were ready for this.”

  “They were commercials, Sharon!” Georgia prickled. She knew that beggars couldn’t be choosers… but the truth was that she was ashamed that commercials were all she could get now. She didn’t want to show the world how far she’d fallen.

  Though given the events of the last hour, she supposed that ship had sailed.

  “Commercials are real jobs, Georgia.” Sharon put her glasses back on, then slid them down her nose to look at
her client. “Jennifer sells mineral water. Sofia sells soda. Uma sells purses. Emma sells makeup.”

  “A cosmetics campaign is a little different than a yogurt commercial, Sharon.” Frustrated, Georgia flopped back in her chair as Sharon arched an eyebrow.

  “Jamie Lee did a yogurt commercial, young lady. Are you going to tell me she’s not a success?”

  “Sharon.” Georgia knew she was whining, but this had been a hellish day. And unless something drastic happened, and soon, she was going to have to accept the damn yogurt commercial anyway.

  “As I was saying. I’ve sat on this for a while.” Sharon gave her a pointed glance. “But with the timing… maybe this could be just what you need.”

  She pulled a folder off her desk and opened it. After glancing at the page, she closed it again and handed it to Georgia. “It's for a direct-to-web show.”

  “A what?” Frowning, Georgia took the folder and opened it. Inside was a script titled Love Me Harder. It was the first script she’d seen in a long time, and her pulse picked up a bit just looking at it.

  “A web show. It's the latest thing. You'll shoot ten episodes like a television show, but instead of having it show on the major networks, you'll go straight to the internet.” Sharon sounded pleased; Georgia felt the disappointment like an elephant on her chest.

  “Like YouTube?” She swallowed thickly, trying to keep a brave face. “So it’s not actually a big show?”

  She didn’t know why she’d even let herself think that it was.

  “Yes, YouTube.” Sharon waved her hand in the air. “The first season drums up interest, and if the public likes it enough, they’ll shoot a second season and make people pay for it.”

  “I—” Georgia watched Sharon lean her elbows on her desk as something tickled at her brain. Sharon leaned her elbows on her desk.

  “The project has already got some great buzz because of the innovative way that they’re releasing it. The producer is Evan Black of Black Productions, and the director is an up and coming star. If this first season makes the drop like everyone is predicting, the second season will launch Black Productions’ new movie and television app.” Sharon’s voice became firmer as she spoke, launching into her sales pitch.