Katie’s P.O.V

Smile. Please Smile. You don’t have to show your pearly whites. Just curl the corners of your lips up. Yes. Yes. Just like that. Now crinkle your eyes at the sides. Okay, stop. That’s too much.

Before she arrives at my tiny desk, something resembling a smile is on my face as I look up at her smug expression. “Hey, Cora? Need anything?”

Thankfully, my voice doesn’t betray what I truly feel inside.

“Oh yeah.” Her heavy and musky cologne fills my lungs as she leans over my laptop, her tiny blouse straining to contain her implants. “Why don’t you be a darling and get the crew in Room 4B a hit of coffee?” her tone drips with condescension.

I glance at the script on my screen. I have a scene to shoot in an hour and need to memorize the last line. “As you can see, I’m busy right now.”

Rolling her eyes, she lowers her voice. “Kylie—“

“You know my name is Katie.” I cut her off, arching a brow.

Core ignores me. “Kimberly…you know you are just a substitute. Like your irrelevant roles in low-budget movies mean nothing, now, when I ask you to do something, you do it. Or else…”

She lets her threat hang in the air, and I close my eyes, hating the wetness behind my lids. I hate this. I hate her. But I can’t afford to lose this job. Not when Leo needs me.

Cora is the A+ plus actress of X-Man Production, and everyone kisses her ass, knowing quite well that beneath those layers of make-up was an ugly talentless villain who slept her way to the top.

So, she can ruin my career with a snap of her fingers. She’s dating the boss, after all.

A shuddering breath escapes my lips before I blink them open, nodding at her. “Of course. I’ll be back in a few.”

She blows me a kiss, winking flirtatiously as she turns away. “Good choice.”

Her slim hips sashay out of my tiny office, taking her disgusting cologne with her. I place my head on the file, my hair falling forward as I fight the urge to go after that witch who made my life a living hell since I got hired.

When I’ve got a semblance of control, I get up from my seat and grab my coat.

As I stroll through the cubicles, I see pitying looks from my co-workers. They heard everything. They always do. There’s no privacy in this dump.

A gust of wind chills my cheeks as I leave the building, sending my hair into a wild dance around my face. Turning my face to the sky, I soak in vitamin D, shrugging off the humiliation I just endured.

I don’t hate my job, although it might seem like it. I just hate being treated like a nobody after working so hard for something all my life.

But life has never been kind to me. No, it gave me scraps and kicked me to the curb.

I was a werewolf without a wolf, a freak of nature that no pack wanted. Bouncing from one foster home to another became my reality until I finally found a loving human family. But then tragedy struck, and my adoptive brother lost his legs in a car crash. I still remember the horror I felt when I saw him in the hospital, hooked to machines and tubes.

That night, I swore to myself that I would make him proud and give him the best life possible. Immersing myself in studies, I graduated top of my class only to land a job at one of the worst agencies in NYC.

Then I realized life was playing a cruel joke on me.

The blaring of car horns and cursing pedestrians—normalcy in New York City—all dull into a buzz as I lose myself in my thoughts.

Every month, I saved some money for Leo’s surgery, hoping he would walk again one day.

I jump when I feel a tap on my shoulder, clutching my heart over my white shirt. “Jesus, you scared me,” I mutter to the woman before me.

From the corner of my eyes, I realized I was already in front of the Starbucks café.

Running my eyes over her overtly-friendly stance, I make quick deductions. Stilettos, red lips, hair pulled into a high ponytail to show off the pearl necklace on her slender neck and signature high-end pant and suit. Ah. Most definitely an Agent.

Clearing her throat, she grins, extending her hand towards me. “Hi, I am Ms. Scott.”

A sharp scent of cedar cut through my nostrils, making me tense. She was a werewolf, a Gamma at that. I don’t come in contact with my kind on the busy streets of New York.

“Do you want to step in for a while?” she nods towards the open sign on the door to the café. “We can talk over coffee.”

I shake my head before she finishes speaking. “I’m in a hurry, sorry.”

The smile on her face doesn’t waver even once, sending a jolt of envy through me. My coldness clearly annoyed her, but her expression didn’t give anything away.

“I’m Katie.” I offer to ease the tension, which works because her blue eyes sparkle almost immediately.

“I know who you are, Miss Moore.” She chirps, sweeping her tongue over her slightly protruding fangs. “You’ve made an impression so big it would be a privilege to have you work with our company. Before you say no, I know you are signed with…” she scoffs, “X-man, but this is an opportunity of a lifetime. You have a rare talent that shouldn’t be wasted in trashy companies like that, no offense.”

Hope begins fluttering its tiny wings in my heart, and I beat it down before it takes flight. “And who are you with?”

“BM entertainment.” She flushes, handing me a brown envelope with a logo that widens my eyes. “There’s a copy of our contract and my contact information for when you’re ready to reach out. I’ll see you around, Ms. Moore.”

After her petite figure disappears into the bustling crowd, I pinch myself in the arm to test if my broken mind is creating this.

“Ow,” I laugh, rubbing the sore spot. This is real! I am being scouted by one of the biggest production houses in NYC, maybe even in the country!

Sliding my hand into the envelope, I feel around for the card, and when I finally touch it, I let my hope soar.

I return to the office with a spring in my step, carelessly dropping Cora’s coffee on her desk. I bite back a grin when it topples over, spilling its brown content on the desk.

“Oops,” I say, shoving past the open-mouthed Cora as I hand other actors their coffee.

“What the fuck, Katie?” She yells, her face turning red.

Oh, you know my name now?

Shrugging unapologetically, I walk back into my office to immerse myself in the script sitting on my desk.

Hours later, I wave a cab, rattling off my address to the passive driver as I lean into the backseat. God, I am starving and bone-tired. My co-actor was a total mess who kept dribbling saliva onto my cheek. I shudder, shaking the mental image off.

The world is a blur of lights and noises as we speed through the city and I roll down the window, sticking my head out as I try to escape the stench inside the car. It smells like rotten egg and moldy cheese mixed, making me gag.

The driver doesn’t seem to notice or care, driving fast and honking at every car in his way.

A grateful smile touches my lip when the driver finally pulls to a stop in the driveway of the Green Villa. I rush out of the vehicle, passing him a few dollar bills.

“Keep the change,” I mutter as I turn my back on him, walking past the lush garden into the house at the far end.

Turning the lock on the door, I whirl around, only to freeze in shock as I see him on the couch. He sprawls neatly on the cushions, his face buried in the business page of a newspaper. I had no idea he had returned from his trip.

Usually, I kick off my shoes at the entrance, but I can't contain my excitement at seeing his handsome face. His diamond-cut jaw moves as he quietly reads the words to himself.

"Drake!" I squeal, launching myself at him. "You're back!"

His familiar scent of cologne and soap fills my nostrils as I wrap my arms around him, moving my lips to his. But he turns away at the last second, and my kiss lands awkwardly on his chin.

Hurt lances through me, and I pull away from him, noticing his arms hanging limply at his sides. He flinches from my touch. Again.

Tears sting my eyes as I glance at the photo album on the coffee table, but I blink them back, squaring my shoulders.

I shouldn't be disappointed.

Maybe I should have even expected that reaction. I am like a stranger to Drake. A new face trying to warm up to him. He lost every memory of us. It's like someone erased our relationship from his mind.

"Hey.” His voice is cold and distant. "You're home."