Once we were done with our…activities, Liam and I hopped back on his bike and made the trip back into the city. I spent the drive in a totally blissed-out state, savoring once again the wonderful feeling of having his body against mine as the city passed by.

Before too long, we were back at the apartment.

"Should we, um," I said, not sure of how to phrase the topic of where I should sleep.

"Let's try to keep this as normal as possible for now," he said, stepping out of his shoes. "And Olivia might be coming back tomorrow morning; I don't want to confuse the poor kid too much."

"Ah," I said. "Good call."

So, we both went off to our separate beds. I expected the night to pass restlessly as I wondered just what the hell I had gotten myself into. But to my surprise, I went out as soon as my head hit the pillow. I woke up the next morning bright and early, taking a long, luxurious shower that I was almost afraid to get into for fear of washing Liam's lovely scent off of my body. Once I was clean and dressed, I went to the kitchen and made myself a pot of coffee. Liam must not've been up yet, so I had my run of the place. In the mood for a leisurely Sunday, I drank cup after cup, savoring each sip as I sat on the balcony, read the news, and watched the city slowly come to life.

I couldn't help myself and ended up checking the Hollywood sites to see what they had to say about Liam's project. Sure enough, it was getting some serious buzz. My eyes nearly bugged out of my head when I checked out the gossip sites for news about Liam and saw that one of the pictures was from last night as we were heading into that trendy restaurant. Liam looked like a conquering hero caught mid-stride, and I looked like a little twerp next to him, my eyes big and wide and my mouth opened unflatteringly in midsentence.

The writer of the article wondered just who this woman was spotted at the side of Liam Thorne as we headed into one of Manhattan's hottest restaurants. Thankfully, the only pictures were of us entering the restaurant; my stomach went sour at the idea of any pictures showing just what we'd gotten up to later in the evening.

Before I could consider the matter for too long, my phone lit up with a text from Sophia.

Hey, girl! Long time no talk!

I realized that I'd been so wrapped up with Liam and work that I'd totally forgotten to check in with her. I dialed in Sophia's number and she picked up right away. We got to chatting, with her wanting all the details about working with Liam, from the gossip about the celebrities to just what Liam was like. When the subject of Liam came up, however, I must've made a weird noise or something, because Sophia was all over it.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Um, we may have, um, gotten a little carried away with ‘catching up'."

"No. Way," said Sophia, her voice heavy with urgency.

Well, cat's out of the bag, I thought. I went into details, making sure to keep things PG.

"What does that all mean?" Sophia asked when I'd brought her up to speed. "Are you guys, like, back together or something?"

"No way," I said, my face turning red. "It was probably just a one-time thing. It was stupid, because now things are probably gonna be super awkward."

"Do you want it to be a one-time thing?"

To be truthful, I hadn't thought about it that far. It was too soon in the past for me to be considering anything like that.

"I have no idea. I mean, we already broke up once before."

"But he sounds like he's got his shit together. I mean, he owns his own company."

"Maybe," I said, standing up and pacing around the balcony. "But there's no way he doesn't have that old Liam down in there somewhere. You know, like how they say a leopard doesn't change its spots. Besides, why would he want anything serious with me? He's got every A-list actress in the city trying to get on his dick. I'm just some small-town nobody."

"Oh please," said Sophia. "How many times do I have to tell you what a bad bitch you are before you start to believe it?"

A little smile formed on my face. But before I could respond, my phone buzzed with an incoming call. It was Simon Whittaker.

"Um, you have any idea why Mr. Whittaker would be calling me on a Sunday morning?"

"No clue," said Sophia. "Wait...I mean, I know he's been wondering how the shoot's been going. He probably just wants to check in."

"Yeah, you're right," I said. "OK, I should probably take this. Later, girl!"

"Bye!"

With that, I clicked over.

"Hey, Mr. Whittaker," I said, a little nervous.

"Call me Simon, young lady," he said in his languid British accent. "How's my little liaison doing on this lovely Sunday morning?"

"Um, just fine," I said.

"Good, good," he responded. "Well, as you know, part of this little arrangement that Mr. Thorne and I worked out is that you work as something of an intermediary between our two organizations. Which means that you keep me abreast of the goings-on with the production. But I haven't heard from you in quite some time. You haven't forgotten about ol' Simon, have you?"

I gulped. He was right: I'd gotten so involved with things here with Liam that I'd totally spaced on the fact that I was supposed to be checking in with Mr. Whit- I mean, Simon about how the shoot was going.

"Sorry, Simon," I said. "These last few weeks have just flown by."

"Think nothing of it," he said. "But I will need a little update on the shoot. Are you free this afternoon?"

This wasn't really a request. I mean, not like I could tell one of the owners of one of the largest film production companies in the city that I couldn't meet him for lunch because I needed some me-time or something.

"Of course!" I said, keeping my voice chipper.

"Wondrous," he said. "I'll send you the address. Let's say around twelve-thirty?"

"Sounds good."

"Until then."

I hung up the phone and began regretting right away that I'd had so much coffee. Between the caffeine and the meeting, my heart was racing. I checked the time and saw that I had a couple of hours before I needed to leave. I went to my room and picked out something professional to wear, hoping as I got ready that Liam would wake up so I could talk to him about this meeting. I mean, all I really needed to do was tell Simon how things had been going, but still, Liam was such a cool, in-control guy that having him say that I didn't need to worry about anything was would need to hear to take my pulse down by about fifty beats per minute.

But as the time came to leave, Liam still wasn't up. He might've been in his office, but I didn't want to bother him with my dumb insecurities if I didn't have to. So, taking a deep breath, I was off. The restaurant was in Nolita, which was only about a twenty-minute walk away, so I decided to go on foot instead of taking the train.

After a nice walk, I arrived at the restaurant. It was a large, open space with lots of white and gold, the afternoon sun shining in and filling the space with some level of cheer. It was packed, and I could tell by the clothes that the clientele was just as wealthy as those at the place last night, though a different type of wealthy; the place last night had the people who stared in the films, and this place had the people who funded them. I scanned the sea of well-dressed men and women and spotted Simon, who was sitting at a small table near a window, a little glass of clear liquid in front of him.

He saw me as I approached, and a slow, creeping smile spread across his fleshy face as he rose to greet me.

"There she is," he said, giving me a too-firm hug before pulling out the chair for me.

"Well," he, said, noticing my outfit. "Looks like Mr. Thorne’s been giving you some pointers about dressing well."

"Don't really have much use for anything nice when you're just fetching coffee," I said, settling in my seat and feeling immediately uncomfortable.

"I took the liberty of ordering you a salad," he said. "I would've waited for you to show, but you girls always end up just getting salads anyway."

"Oh, thank you," I said.

Something struck me as a little sexist about his comment, but I couldn't lie- a salad did sound nice. I guess he had me pegged…or that I wasn't the first girl he'd asked out to a lunch like this.

"So," he said, drumming his thick fingers on the white tablecloth, "tell me what you've been up to, dear. How's the production been going?"

I filled him in as best I could, while being vague when I felt it was expedient. I found myself wishing that I'd been able to talk with Liam before this meeting, since I had no idea how much of the issues with the director and the lead actress I should talk about. So, I sort of just, um, glided over the situation, saying some vague nothings about "occasional tensions on the set." Samuel raised an eyebrow at this, and I think he got what I was saying.

"Very good, very good," he said when I was done.

"Sounds like you've been keeping a careful eye on things; just what I've been hoping you'd do."

"Glad to be of help," I said, still feeling a little nervous.

"Well," he said, taking a sip of his drink, "if you really want to be of help, let's get to what I was hoping to talk to you about."

There's more to this? I thought, confused.

Samuel sat back in his seat, the chair groaning under his shifting bulk. He looked away for a second, his thick brow knotted as though he was trying to figure out the best way to say something. Before he could start, the waitress arrived and placed a colorful salad in front of me and a sandwich in front of Samuel. He thanked the waitress, giving her a flirtatious wink as she stepped away.

"Don't let me stop you," he said. "Dig in."

Samuel grabbed his sandwich with two hands, taking a massive bite out of it. The thin, pink meat oozed out of the back, and when he set the sandwich back down, his big, pink lips were sheened with grease. I found my appetite somewhat diminished, and poked listlessly at my salad, spearing a small piece of pear into my mouth when I finally felt like eating.

Finally, he sat back once again, now ready to talk.

"As you know, Thorne Pictures is one of the hottest companies in the New York film scene," he said, weaving his fingers together and resting his hands on his large, round belly. "I want to know why."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"There's something to Mr. Thorne…something that Bronzeplate doesn't have. I know he's young and hungry and willing to take risks on pictures that others won't, but there's something more to it than that. And I want to know what it is."

I sat still, saying nothing.

"So, I want you to pay very close attention to how Mr. Thorne runs things. Very close. In fact, if you happen to come across some information on his computer pertaining to exact numbers and figures, well, I wouldn't upset if you somehow managed to take a picture of this and get it to me."

Was he…asking me to spy on Liam?

"Don't go out of your way to attract attention, but if you find anything relating to finances, upcoming pictures, current negotiations with talent…well, let's just say that it would behoove your career at Bronzeplate if you were to assist us in this manner."

I poked at my salad listlessly, whatever appetite that I had fading fast.

"But enough business," he said. "Tell me how you're liking the industry so far."

"Um," I said, looking down and clearing my throat, "it's good."

"Just good?" asked Simon, his eyebrows raised over his watery eyes.

"Great," I corrected myself. "I love it. It's been excellent working so closely with Mr. Thorne; I'm learning a lot from him about the behind-the-scenes process."

"Great, good, grand, wonderful," said Simon, grabbing a wad of greasy meat that'd fallen out of the back of his sandwich, wadding it up, and popping it into his mouth like a gumball.

"Precisely what I was hoping for," he said, the meat turning into pink sludge in his mouth as he chewed it.

He swallowed hard, washing the whole thing down with a long sip of his drink.

"I've had my eye on you for some time, young lady," he said, drumming his fingers on the table once more. "If you've been succeeding in this new role as much as I'm getting the hint you are, well, I think it might speak volumes about your future at Bronzeplate. I wouldn't mind taking a new assistant under my wing, for example. I do prefer to work…very closely with my underlings."

My eyes shot to the table, and I saw that his hand had moved across it. Not super close to me, but close enough to where he was making it clear that he was in my personal space.

Was he suggesting what I think he was?

No, I thought. There's no way he would so bold as to suggest that I work with him…like that.

"Um, that would be great," I said, suddenly feeling very trapped.

I turned my attention my back to my salad, eating it as quickly as I could. Thankfully, only a little more time passed before I got a text from Liam, asking if I could come back to the apartment to help him go over some scheduling issues. Nothing life-or-death…but Mr. Whittaker didn't need to know that.

"Duty calls?" he asked, polishing off his drink.

"Kind of," I said. "Mr. Thorne's a real ball-buster."

Another grin spread across Mr. Whittaker's face.

"Go on," he said. "I won't keep you."

"Thanks for the lunch," I said, getting up as quickly as I could without drawing attention to just how fast I wanted to get the hell out of there.

"Think nothing of it," he said.

But as I turned to leave, he placed his hand on mine.

"Think about what I said," he said. "I think you could go far in this industry. If you make the right connections, that is."

I nodded in acknowledgment, flashing one last strained smile before hurrying out of the restaurant, my mind racing from what had just taken place.