Free Command Performance by Annabel Joseph

hear from him. He wanted to ask if he could come over. He wanted to sleep beside her in her bed and hold her and stroke her golden blonde hair, even if he couldn’t fuck her. “I’m sorry I’m calling so late. Do you want to go out again? I want to see you again. Are you free any time next week?”
    “Sure, Mason. I can go out anytime. I’m not working at the moment.”
    I’ll help you find work. I’ll help you. I’m not going to be an asshole.
    “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? We’ll set something up after I check my schedule.”
    “Okay. Awesome!”
    In those two little words he could feel her giddy excitement. Oh, God, this whole situation was horrible. And wonderful.
    He was losing his fucking mind.

Chapter Five: Deal
     
    Mason sent the driver to the door. He couldn’t deal with her father’s growls and grimaces at the moment. They were off to dinner at Mr. Chow’s, then a studio party, because it would help Miri.
    Help Miri. Help Miri. That had become his new mantra. Photos of them still flooded the tabloids and entertainment blogs. The photos from the poetry reading popped up everywhere and seemed proof to the public that their relationship was deepening fast. Mason had to admit there was an intimacy and charm to the ones he’d seen. Candid amateur photos always came across as more real, even if they were underexposed and blurry. Maybe because they were underexposed and blurry.
    Mr. Chow’s would be a great photo opportunity for paps and amateurs alike. Celebrities who wanted to be seen only had to breeze through Mr. Chow’s doors, where a gauntlet of paparazzi camped most hours of the day. And the studio party... Mason had been to hundreds of them, but he hoped Miri would find some use in it. He had his next four projects lined up, but she had far less options. She had the talent though. If he could help get her career off the ground, help her navigate the transition from child star to serious actress, he would feel less guilty when this whole PR stunt was over. Not that she had the least inkling she was participating in a PR stunt.
    Not that it was only a PR stunt. Not anymore.
    She ducked her head into the limo, her wide smile infectious. “Hi, Mason.”
    “Hi, gorgeous. I love that color on you.”
    She was in a semi-formal gown, a slinky confection in deep blue that still managed to communicate a certain alluring innocence thanks to a matching wrap. No flashy jewelry, just some pretty teardrop earrings. He would have to text his stylist later and give him a raise. He was really outdoing himself with Miri. Mason took her hand as she slid across the seat, then pressed a kiss on her cheek. “I love your smile too. You always smile when you see me.”
    She laughed. “Doesn’t everyone?”
    He thought of his ex-wife Jessamine. In the end, she’d only smiled at him in front of the cameras, in the public eye. But Miri wasn’t Jessamine. He had to stop comparing the two. “Are you hungry?”
    “Starving.”
    He couldn’t help stealing a look down the front of her dress as she shifted to pull at the strap of one of her pumps. He was starving too, but not for Chinese food. She collapsed against his side, unlike Jessamine, who never let him touch her on the way to any event. Don’t wrinkle my dress. Don’t kiss me—my makeup! She’d been a consummate professional. Miri was...well...
    An innocent, Mason. She’s not for you. He’d done the math, knew exactly how many years separated them. Not only that, but they had wildly disparate levels of sexual experience. He still put his arm around her and took her hand, breathing in her fresh, floral-scented sweetness.
    “You look handsome, as always.” She gazed up at him, her pretty eyes far too worshipful. “What are you wearing tonight?”
    “Dior.”
    “Very dashing.”
    “Have you been to Mr. Chow’s before?” he asked.
    She wrinkled her nose. “It’s a paparazzi trap, isn’t it? I’ve been a few times, but no one’s bothered to