Chapter Eleven

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Way too quickly, Jada found herself and Tristan in front of a booth, filled with people. In the middle of it, a golden-haired, gorgeous man was clearly The King. He entertained his companions with jokes and the women fawned over him foolishly. It was obvious this was the man they were here to meet.

"Logan Wentworth?" Tristan asked bluntly. The man cocked his head in acknowledgment.

"Yes, that's me," he said. He had a distinctive lilt in his voice that reminded Jada of James Bond. Silky soft, commanding, and very British. 

"Do I know you?" He raised a quizzical eyebrow.

While he seemed friendly, there was a firmness in his voice that implied he wasn't interested in being hassled by strangers—making Tristan and Jada's job even harder. Jada allowed Tristan to take the lead, not because he'd demanded so earlier but because she feared she might screw things up.

"I'm Tristan Maxwell. A friend of Doug's. Remember?" Tristan said jovially.

Jada caught on fast. Tristan had utilized one of the oldest tricks in the book: making Logan think they'd already met. At this point, it would be rude for Logan to turn him away or say he didn't know him. In the entertainment business, it was all about who you knew. And if you didn't know them—but they seemed important—it's best to act like you did.

"Ah yes. Maxwell. It's good to see you. Have a seat." His invitation forced a sort of musical chairs seating rearrangement as Tristan and Jada were forced to squeeze into the booth.

"This is my girlfriend, Jada." Tristan threw a companionable arm around her shoulders as he went on. "When I saw you, I was like, Jada, you have to meet this guy. He's great—not to mention, one of the best producers in town."

"Thanks, mate. That's kind of you to say," Logan said, then his gaze fell on Jada. It seemed he approved of her—at least physically—as he took in her appearance appreciatively.

"It's nice to meet you, Jada. I hope you won't be too disappointed if I don't live up to Tristan's expectations."

"Oh, I don't know. I've found Tristan usually has sound judgment." Jada hoped her inner sarcasm didn't come across out loud.

"So what have you been up to since I saw you last?" Tristan asked. "I know your sci-fi thriller, Prototype, came out recently. It's a hit."

"Oh, I saw that one! It was amazing." Jada chipped in as she got into the groove of Tristan's act.

"Yeah. Not to talk business on your off-hours, but are you working on anything else like that? Something cool?"

"Well, it's always good to have something in the works. Right now, I'm exploring a big action flick. Think Black Panther meets Indiana Jones."

"Wow! I'm so picturing Michael B. Jordan in a fedora right now." Jada glowed when Logan laughed boisterously at her joke.

"You know, you're quiet, but also quite charming," he said to her. "Good catch on your part, Tristan."

"I like to think so," Tristan said, showering Jada with a look of love. One that she almost bought.

"Well, anyway, it sounds great." Jada tried to steer them back on topic.

Logan looks at her calculatingly.

"Well, we're still in the early stages. Would you be interested in auditioning for a part?" Logan asked.

"Seriously?" Jada squeaked, garnering another laugh from Logan.

"Sure, love," he said. He reached into his pocket and passed Jada his business card.

"Stay in touch. Get your agent to give me a call and we can set something up."

"Thank you," Jada said, trying hard not to gush.

"Well, thanks for everything, Logan," Tristan said after they'd indulged in several more minutes of small talk. "We'll have to get together again for another drink or something."

"Sounds good." Logan lifted his own glass.

With that, Tristan steered Jada out of the booth and back towards the main lounge area. Jada turned to him, still shocked.

"That was way easier than I thought it would be."

"Yep. Logan is a total Casanova—worse than me. A sucker for a pretty face. I knew if I brought you over, things would probably go our way."

"You're saying I only got the audition because of my looks?" Jada frowned. Tristan sighed before facing off with her.

"No. I'm saying he's a man," Tristan said. The intense heat returned to his eyes as he touched Jada's chin, studying her.

"Who wouldn't fall for you?" he asked, his voice soft. It washed over her, enveloping her in warmth and something else. Something dangerous. So dangerous that she worried she would fall into it.

"What do you say? Should we have one more dance to celebrate?" Tristan asked.

Instead of answering right away, Jada averted her eyes...only to see her worst nightmare.

It was Daniel.

Three steps away, a short distance over Tristan's shoulder, Jada swore she saw her ex-boyfriend staring straight at her. She studied him: tall, slim, the piercing hazel gaze. This was not a horrible mirage. Douchebag Daniel was here in the flesh.

*** Jada may be terrified of her ex but it can't be as bad as this wholeeee, entire trainwreck:

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