Free Resist by Blanche Hardin Page B

real name of Blaine Pascal-Baasch.
    The network didn’t want anything to do with his underground film name not to mention it would both fuck with his “street cred” and he’d be taken less seriously for the work that paid him the most money. What the network had offered him and he’d signed with his contract was a shit load of money and nothing to laugh at but he’d opened a business account with both our names on it afterwards. Basically, he handed me the checkbook, debit card and an American Express Business Platinum card, and told me they were free for me to use, as I desired.
    At first I couldn’t believe it but then my degrees kicked in and I knew it was reverse psychology at play here. The only reason why he trusted me with all that money is because he knew I was the type to never spend it frugally. Hell, I’d bought my car with money from my personal savings account for Christ’s sake.
    I shopped at Target for my toiletries and general household items, mid-level department stores or thrift shops for clothes, DSW for shoes and Victoria’s Secret for my undergarments and sleepers—I wasn’t the type of woman who wasted money on the trivial.
    I still was a bit stunned about how the whole episode had played out but wasn’t that the original intent? Isn’t that what we’d discussed on the plane? Me, actually seeing him in action, and watching the way he worked changed everything.
    He was a perfectionist of the highest order who wouldn’t stop until everything was exactly how he wanted it to be. It was grueling on the actors but I also knew he would give me hell when we began to work together.
    I was dedicated and wanted to prove I was capable of getting the job done. Even if I’d initially come along to study pop culture—not to be an actual part of it—I was now and it was an opportunity I would fail to let go to waste.
    I supposed the best way to study it was to actually do it but I couldn’t hide behind my nerves. I was scared to death of what might happen between the two of us, even if I was good at hiding it.
    Part of it had to do with the way I felt about Blaine. I liked him. A lot. I knew he had a dark side I’d barely scratched the surface with discovering but that was part of the allure, wasn’t it? I hated that side of me that could also own to liking Zed but for different reasons.
    Blaine wanted to possess me thoroughly and whole-heartedly. Although he should have seemed vulnerable, he didn’t.
    At least not to me.
    Zed had more of a “little boy lost” vibe going on. Yes, I was attracted to him but it mostly came out of a deep maternal instinct I had no idea I possessed. I just wanted to hold him and love him and maybe let him fuck me if that made him feel better but I wasn’t so sure about how I would feel afterwards. Probably not the same way I felt if I gave my body over to Blaine—I knew that much at the bare minimum.
    Blaine suddenly called, “Cut and print. Okay, why don’t we all take a quick break? When we come back, we’ll move on to you strangling Brigitte and then we’ll wrap for the day.”
    I forced myself out of my thoughts as he sat next to me and turned my way. “So, what do you think? Are you a nervous wreck or is everything all right?”
    “I’m fine.” I smiled at him with genuine warmth. “What exactly did you tell your brother about our dinner at The Polo Lounge? He’s been glaring at me all day. Did you lead him to believe it was a date?”
    He ran his perfect fingers through his dark hair. “So what if I did? It’s to get him off your back more than anything. He’s completely obsessed with you—”
    “I’m sure you tell that to all the girls,” I said before a light laugh escaped from between my slightly parted lips.
    “No, I don’t .” His crystal blue eyes glanced into mine with an almost desperate look of contrition. “I don’t know what’s so special about you, Vie. It’s not just the whole ‘virgin’ thing but I worry about his . .