Bad Romeo (Starcrossed #1)(54)
Author: Leisa Rayven

The man holds his hand out to me, and I shake it with trembling fingers.

A real Broadway director. This is surreal.

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Taylor,” he says warmly as he covers my hand in both of his. “That performance tonight was … well, let me say that if I need a Juliet in the near future, I know who I’ll be calling. You were remarkable, my dear. Truly.”

A blast of heat hits my cheeks, and I don’t think my smile could be wider without surgical assistance.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Fiori,” I say, trying to talk around the huge lump in my throat. “I’m … wow … I’m honored.”

“And Mr. Holt,” he says as he releases my hand and turns to Ethan. “You’ve managed to do the impossible. To portray a Romeo I didn’t want to beat with my umbrella. Bravo. You’re a very talented young man.”

Apparently Holt isn’t above blushing, either, because the tops of his ears go bright red as he shakes the older man’s hand.

“Uh … thanks,” he says with a self-conscious smile. “I’m glad you don’t want to beat me. Now if you could only convince Taylor not to, that’d be great.”

Marco turns to me and raises his eyebrows. “You beat your leading man, Miss Taylor?”

I shrug. “Only when he deserves it.”

Marco laughs and claps. “Oh, you two have some interesting chemistry, don’t you? Directing them must have been delightful, Erika.”

Erika shakes her head and smiles. “That’s one word for it. The experience was certainly never boring. Still, the results speak for themselves.”

Erika smiles at us proudly. I feel like my chest is going to explode from happiness.

Marco points to Holt and me. “Yes, I have to say, you two onstage together is a rare and special phenomenon. Quite remarkable. I haven’t witnessed chemistry this powerful since I saw Liza Minnelli cradling a triple Scotch at the opening night of The Boy from Oz. I predict big futures for the both of you. Especially if you continue working together. I’d certainly love to direct you one day.”

Holt and I glance at each other. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Judging from his expression, neither can he.

“Well, you two had better go get changed,” Erika says as she takes Marco’s arm. “I believe you have a party to attend, and you’ve certainly earned a night of celebration.”

Holt and I say our good-byes before we head toward our dressing rooms. He walks beside me on the stairs and grazes his hand down the small of my back. We’re silent, but I can tell his head is reeling just as much as mine.

“That was a Broadway director,” he says in awe.

“Yep.”

“He complimented our performances.”

“Yes, he did.”

“He actually implied he’d hire us. You and me. For a Broadway show.”

“So I didn’t just imagine that part, then?”

“No.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. Wow.”

When we reach his dressing room, he takes my hand and pulls me inside. The room’s empty, and he shuts the door behind us. He turns to face me, his expression intense as he moves forward, urging me back against the door.

“I’m sorry,” he says as he leans down, “but what just happened has officially blown my mind. I need to do this.”

He presses against me and kisses me. It’s long, slow, and deep, and although I’ve kissed him a lot onstage tonight, this is different. We may be still wearing our costumes, but this has nothing to do with our characters.

When he pulls back, his breathing is fast, his face flushed, and his eyes are bright with lust.

“Come and meet my parents.”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

“Uh … okay.”

“I feel like you’re my good luck charm tonight. Maybe being with you will make talking to my old man bearable.”

I smile. “I don’t mean to freak you out, but you just said something nice to me. On purpose.”

“Yeah, I did,” he says and screws up his face. “It felt weird.”

“It sounded weird.”

“But nice?”

I stand on my toes and kiss him softly. Although he tenses, he lets me. He even kisses me back.

I pull back and sigh. “Very nice. Thank you.”

He wraps his arms around me and grazes his nose along my neck.

I shiver as his lips brush against my throat when he whispers, “You’re welcome.”

Ten minutes and one more knee-buckling kiss later, we reach the stage, dressed for the party. Elissa is there, waiting.

When she sees us, she stops in her tracks and looks between us.

“Oh my God. Did you two just have sex?”

“Jesus, Elissa, no,” Holt says, frowning at his sister.

“Well, it looks like you have,” Elissa says as she wipes some lipstick off Holt’s neck and smoothes down my hair. “Now let’s move it. You guys are the last ones out. Mom and Dad will think we’ve forgotten about them.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” Holt mumbles as we head toward the door.

We push through into the foyer, and it’s packed with friends, family, and fellow students. I have another pang that my parents couldn’t be here.

There’s a slight rumble of recognition and a smattering of applause as Holt and I emerge, and people say nice things as we pass. Holt seems to take it in stride, but he’s more experienced with this kind of thing. Still, I acknowledge as many people as I can and try to smile.

We push through the crowd until Elissa yells, “Mom! Dad!” before dashing toward an attractive middle-aged couple. The man is almost as tall as Holt but with sandy brown hair, and the lady is short like Elissa, and nearly as blond. I can definitely see shades of Elissa in her mom, but I struggle to see Ethan in either of his parents.

Elissa hugs her mother first, then her father wraps his arms around her. Ethan leans in to give his mother a kiss. He looks at his father and shuffles nervously. There are several awkward seconds before his father reaches his hand out, and Ethan shakes it.

Elissa ushers me forward. “Mom, Dad, this is Cassie Taylor, our amazing Juliet. Cassie, our parents, Charles and Maggie Holt.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Holt,” I say as I nervously shake their hands. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

Pleaselikeme, pleaselikeme, pleaselikeme.

“Cassie, you were a wonderful Juliet,” Maggie says, smiling. “So much better than the girl who played her in the Shakespeare Festival last year. What was her name, Ethan?”