Behind the Scenes: An Alpha Billionaire Romance Novel Read online

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  BEHIND THE SCENES

  JESSICA BLAKE

  CONTENTS

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  TITLE PAGE

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  COPYRIGHT AND DISCLAIMER

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  Fresh out of film school at UCLA, Sydney Andrews is on her way to living her dreams. A job with one of the top five film production companies in the world seems almost too good to be true. On her very first day of the job… she realizes it probably is.

  Enter Simon Mulroney, the handsome and cocky CEO, who uses people as if they’re extras in his life. With his careless attitude, he treats everyone like they're beneath them... until his new assistant walks in and gives as good as she gets.

  The chemistry between Sydney and Simon is undeniable, but so is the mutual distaste. Determined not to back down, Sydney digs in her heels and fights back. And in doing so, may be the only person capable of breaking her beautiful bastard of a boss. If he doesn’t break her first.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Sydney Andrews. It’s my first day here,” I say brightly to the heavy-set security guard staring at my driver’s license so hard I think she’s trying to memorize the number.

  “Mm hmm,” is all she offers before handing the license back to me and hitting a button that opens up the gate in front of my little 2005 silver Chevy. She doesn’t look at me once. Not that I care. I’m too occupied watching the magical divide in front of me rise up to admit my entrance into the heavenly land I’ve always dreamed of — Hollywood.

  A car behind me honks and I realize I’m just sitting there, staring at the clean, mostly white studio lot. I slip my license into my pocket, intending to put it back in my wallet some time later, and hit the gas, cruising slowly onto the lot of Mulroney Pictures.

  Three weeks out of film school at UCLA and I’ve got a job with one of the major seven film production studios in the world. Take that, Manteo, North Carolina, and all the people who said “no one actually becomes a film director” or “your job at the seafood restaurant will be here for you when you come back.”

  Well, I’m never going back to that podunk spot on the edge of the Atlantic Ocean. I’m starting my new job as an office production assistant, and it’s only a matter of time before I move up the ladder to one day direct the kind of slow thrillers I spent the entirety of my high school years sitting in my basement watching. It’s only a matter of time before I become the first person in my family to work some kind of job that doesn’t fall under the category of blue collar. Start a life as an independent woman. Become the artist and person I always knew I was meant to be. It’s only a matter of time before I —

  Run over the man right in front of my car!

  I hit the brakes, and the car screeches as my chest bumps against the steering wheel.

  “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” I gasp as I look up and over the dashboard. My windows are open, so I know he must have heard me. Instead of responding, though, he just glares, taking off his sunglasses to shoot daggers in my direction.

  I open my mouth to apologize again, but can’t seem to get the air needed to form words. The man I’ve almost just killed on the very first day at my new job looks like he just walked out of the pages of Playgirl.

  He’s tall and broad shouldered, with wavy blond hair and a strong jaw. His eyes — which are currently staring at me like I’m trash that needs to be taken out — are large and crystal blue.

  I didn’t know until now that you could be attracted to someone who so obviously despises you, but human hormones are powerful, I guess. He could be snarling at me like a dog and I’d still be salivating all over the steering wheel, begging him to bite me.

  “Watch it, lunatic,” he snarls before walking off towards a nearby car. My face burns with heat. God, what a douche… What a hot, delicious, douche… With a nice rear-end.

  Another car honks at me and I snap to. Focus, focus, I tell myself, scanning the numbers on the buildings in front of me. It’s time to rock this.

  The buildings stretch out on both sides of me. Mulroney Pictures is huge, with multiple buildings for offices and a gigantic back lot with half a dozen sound stages.

  I stare wistfully in the direction of the back lot as I drive, imagining all kinds of magic happening there. From where I am, it just looks like white, windowless factory buildings, but I know it’s so much more. The back lot is where the cameras, directors, and stars create cinematic history.

  The office area is where paperwork — and now me — is located.

  It’s still better than nothing. Hell, scratch that. It’s still amazing.

  The office building I’m looking for is a small one story with a square parking area in front. No shade, unfortunately. Trees are scarce on production lots, I guess. Most of what I’ve seen so far is either made out of asphalt or steel.

  I take a deep breath and practice grinning like a cheese ball — something I do when I need to calm myself down.

  “You got this,” I whisper to myself. “Here we go.”

  *

  “Lunch is at noon for an hour, and if you smoke, there’s a spot out back. Just make sure not to leave your cigarette butts on the ground, or Mr. Mulroney will wring your neck. And not in a good way.”

  I take the ID badge Stacey handed me and clip it to my jeans, wondering why she’s even suggesting there’s a good way to get your neck wrung.

  “Thanks,” I say to the receptionist, choosing to just forget about the topic.

  “You’re really pretty,” Stacey continues, matter-of-fact. She’s maybe in her early thirties, with short, black hair, and heavily mascaraed eyes.

  “Wow. Thanks.” My heart warms at the compliment. After the awful start with the man I almost drove over, it’s nice to run into someone who could potentially be a friend. I wonder if Stacey also takes lunch at noon and if she knows of any good places within walking distance.

  “All you really need is to wear some make-up and not dress so frumpy,” she continues, and my hopes of us ever being close go crashing to the ground.

  “I’m more of a minimalist,” I mumble, trying to control my anger. I’ve run into enough women like the kind I think Stacey is — the ones who feel the need to always keep other women in check — to know it’s best to just not engage in prolonged conversations with them. “Where do I go?”

  “Last door right down the hall,” she says, pointing to my left. She picks up the desk phone and presses it to her face, dismissing me.

  There are two short hallways. I take a quick peek at the one to the right. Bathrooms, a wate
r closet, and a closed office door. Got it.

  I pick up my neon-orange backpack from the floor and head down the other hall, passing several more office doors on the way. My heart is beating so hard it feels like it’s about to burst out of my chest, and I realize I didn’t even check my reflection before getting out of my car. I’m about to start work with the head of Mulroney Pictures, and for all I know, I could have breakfast on my face.

  I take a second to halt and slip out the little compact mirror that I keep in one of the backpack’s side pockets. The hallway is empty, but I still try to be as inconspicuous as possible in checking my reflection. My short, wavy brown hair is still pinned back in place. My blue eyes, though, look a tad frantic — kind of like I’m an animal walking into the slaughter house.

  Calm it down, Sydney, I tell myself while I put the mirror away. As I get closer to the end of the hall, the sounds of people talking and phones ringing grow louder. I stop at the last door, boasting a sign reading “Simon Mulroney,” and take a right through the open doorway.

  My heart sinks. What greets me is less than impressive.

  I’m in an office with several desks all cramped together. A long window runs the length of the far wall, with views of the ass of another building. A closed door sits adjacent to the window.

  Two young men are on phones, shuffling through papers, and clicking on laptops as they talk. The third person — a girl not much older than me with blonde, pink-tinged hair and glasses, gives me a wave.

  “Savannah, right?” she asks.

  “Sydney. But you got the city part right.”

  She gives a little smirk, but it’s a friendly one, and I’m relieved my often pathetic humor has hit its mark.

  “I’m Dana. We’ll be working together. These guys are Chuck and Daniel.” She nods at the two men who are also somewhere in their twenties. They both wear pastel colored button ups and both seem impervious to my appearance.

  “Great,” I nod. “Is Mr. Mulroney in?”

  Dana gives another smirk, except this time it doesn’t seem like a good one. “Oh, is he ever,” she responds with heavy sarcasm. “He’s in a killer mood today. I’ll buzz you in.”

  She takes a step over to a desk and hits a button before speaking into the buzzer. “Mr. Mulroney, our new assistant is here.”

  A second passes and a buzz is followed by a brusque man’s voice. “Send her in.”

  Dana gestures towards the closed door on the other side of the room before promptly turning away to a wall covered with notes. I take a deep breath and walk across the room to open the office door.

  The man in the room has his back to me, his hands in his pockets. As he begins to turn around everything moves at a normal pace at first, but then time abruptly stretches out, each second happening in agony-drenched slow motion. His tousled blond hair. The vibrant eyes that catch the light coming in through the window. The broad, tense shoulders.

  Mr. Mulroney raises his head to take me in, the initial look of nonchalance on his face turning to first one of surprise, and then contempt.

  Holy freaking shit.

  The world is still spinning in slow-mo as I take a deep breath and make an instant conversion to the religious life — any fucking religious life — in order to send out a prayer to heaven.

  Please God, don’t let him fire me, is all I can think.

  “You’re not going to knock me over?” he asks. “You didn’t get a chance to finish what you started on the asphalt.”

  I chuckle slightly, hoping he’s making a joke. His lips tighten into a thin line.

  Okay, so he wasn’t trying to be funny.

  “I-I am so sorry,” I stutter in a voice that doesn’t even sound like my own. It sounds scared; slightly pathetic.

  The hard line of his mouth breaks and he smiles before walking behind his desk to sit down. I take a deep breath. Okay, so maybe he was trying to be funny.

  He runs a hand over his jaw, bringing one hundred percent of my attention to the fullness of his lips, and his eyes dart up and down my body.

  Hold on a second. Did he just check me out?

  “I need a black coffee,” he says, opening a drawer at his desk and pulling out a folder.

  “Um,” I say. That’s it? No ‘hello my name is, and you are?’ Granted, I already ruined my first impression when I almost ran him down but, seriously, does one mistake warrant me not even getting a chance to properly introduce myself?

  He raises his eyebrows and looks up at me. The silence stretches on, and I realize he truly does intend to start our first day together like this. Heat rises across my body as I turn and make my way through the door. I’m almost certain I can feel his eyes on my back the entire way out. Or my ass.

  I’m almost certain I can feel his eyes on my back the entire way out. I close the door firmly, although softly, more in an effort to put some space between the two of us than give him privacy. The three people in the outer office are busy on their computers.

  Dana looks up at me. “How did it go?”

  I glance at Chuck and Daniel, then walk over to her desk. It’s L-shaped with room for four seats, reminding me of the desks we sat around in elementary school.

  “Okay,” I say uncertainly.

  She grins. “Don’t worry. It could have been worse.”

  I stare at her. Was she eavesdropping? Does she know what happened in there?

  “Newbies have gotten kicked out after thirty seconds alone with Mr. Mulroney,” she continues, “just because he didn’t like the look of them.” She studies me. “You didn’t get kicked out, did you?”

  “No. I don’t think so. I got told to go get coffee.”

  She gives a short, to-the-point laugh. “Damn, sounds like he went easy on you.”

  *

  I push the salad around with my plastic fork, but I’ve got close to zero appetite. I’ve only worked for Simon Mulroney for four hours, and it’s already been one of the worst mornings of my life.

  “You’ll get used to his ways,” Dana says, plopping down next to me, literally reading my mind.

  “His ways? So he’s like this a lot?”

  “Dickish? Oh, yeah.” She takes a swig from a bottle of water. We’re at a little corner cafe several blocks from the studio, and the place is bustling with a lunch crowd grabbing spinach wraps and quinoa salads.

  “He’s basically the king of arrogance,” she continues as she pulls tomatoes off her sandwich. “I mean, why shouldn’t he be? It’s not like he’s ever had to work for anything. He’s inherited everything he has: the studio, his good looks. No one is head of a major studio when they’re only thirty-one. Unless you’re a Mulroney.”

  I stab a red pepper. “His grandfather started the studio, right?”

  “Yep. And you’d think the Mulroneys run the entire city, the way Simon acts. After his grandfather, his dad became the head. Four years ago, it was Simon’s turn.”

  “Wow,” I breathe, thinking about it. Head of a giant movie studio at twenty-seven. That’s five years older than I am now. I wouldn’t even know what to do with that kind of power.

  Lose my shit, that’s what I’d do.

  A thought occurs to me. “Maybe he’s just insecure because he got the job so young, you know? Everyone knows it was just given to him, so they’re probably all waiting for him to screw up.”

  Dana nods thoughtfully, chewing on her sandwich. “Could be. But come on, look at the guy. How insecure can you be when you look like that?”

  She has a point.

  “How do you deal with him?”

  She lifts a shoulder. “Easy. Every day, I remind myself that my job is just one stepping stone in my career, and I look at the bright side. He’s only there about half of the week. He’s got another office downtown.”

  I sigh and drop my fork. “It doesn’t matter for me. I think I’m going to get fired even if he’s only here one hour out of the whole week.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Everyone says that on their first day.” />
  “Yeah? And then what happens?”

  She shrugs, then freezes. “Okay, well, some of them do get fired.”

  My heart sinks at her words. “Great. I’m doomed.”

  “Hey, you’re doing better than most… oh my God!”

  Her shriek is so loud I practically jump out of my metal chair. “What? What is it?”

  She clutches at her hairline. “The plants. I totally forgot all about them. They’re supposed to be delivered sometime today. Damn it. I should have had one of the guys stay at the office during lunch.”

  “I’m sure the delivery man will just set them by the door,” I say, resisting the urge to pat her hand. “I mean, they’re just plants. They’ll be okay.”

  “You would think so. Simon is particular about everything, including his stupid peace lilies.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m gonna have to go back there.”

  “Wait, I can go.” I put my hand out as she starts to get out of her chair.

  “Really?”

  “Yep. I’m not even hungry. I’m just gonna save my salad for later.”

  She nods and sinks back into her chair. “Okay, thanks. I owe you one.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  I grab my backpack and plastic to-go box full of greens and head out of the cafe, hopefully towards a prime opportunity for redemption.

  *

  The plants are in the little lobby, near the front desk. Stacey is nowhere to be found, but I assume the two potted plants, a few feet tall each, are the right ones since they’re just sitting in the middle of the floor. I feel their soil, testing to see how dry they are. Maybe if I water them and take them to Mr. Mulroney’s office, I’ll score a brownie point with him. It’s worth a try, anyway. After bringing him back the coffee earlier, I’d promptly spilled half of it on the floor. I need all the help I can get.

  I fill a little paper cup with water from the drink dispenser and give each plant a healthy dose, then set about moving them to their new home. They’re heavier than they look, and I end up having to drag them one at a time. I alternate between the two, pulling one a few yards down the hall and then going back for its twin. I’m glad the office is empty because I look like an idiot, I know it.