Laughing, Tait shakes his head, saying to us, “He just wants more of me.”
“You’re insufferable.” Chucking a pretzel from the bowl on the table at him, Aran adds, “Good thing we’re done with the kissing. If I’m lucky, my lips will never have to make contact with yours again.”
I must imagine the odd look that flitters over Tait’s face because he’s smiling at me and Rama. “What are your plans after the promotion ends?” he asks.
“I’m going to concentrate on my art for a while,” I say.
Rama touches my hand. “Don’t forget you owe me a painting.”
I open my mouth to assure him I won’t when a hand suddenly clamps down on my shoulder.
“Well, look who it is,” a familiar voice says.
Shrugging off the touch, I look up at Preed. He’s wearing tight black slacks and a dark red shirt open to mid-chest. His cat-like gaze flicks from me to Rama.
“And this must be your bottom.”
“Your replacement,” Tait says with a sneer. “Who invited you here?”
“Several people, actually. I have a lot of friends in this room.” Preed turns his steady gaze back to me, and I have to force myself not to shift uncomfortably in my seat. Although I know it’s his intention, I can’thelp but look at these people I’ve worked with for months and wonder if we’re not as close as I think.
“Who the hell is this guy?” Rama asks irritably, and I want to laugh at the look on Preed’s face. He thinks everyone should know him.
Lifting his chin, Preed says, “I forgot you’re new. Allow me to introduce myself. Preed Pra Saowaluk.” He holds out his hand for Rama to shake, but Rama ignores it.
“I see Pravat has poisoned your mind against me,” Preed says coldly, withdrawing his hand.
My amusement turns to trepidation at the anger now radiating off my ex-co-star. The last thing I want is that anger focused on Rama.
“Actually, he’s never mentioned you,” Rama says, then snaps his fingers, eyes lighting up. “Wait, I have read about you.”
Preed’s pleased look turns sour with Rama’s next words.
“You’re the guy who fell for Pravat in his last drama, then failed to click with your new co-star. Tough break.”
Naa’dir snorts beer up her nose and fumbles for a napkin.
Under cover of the table, I take Rama’s hand and squeeze it in warning. I appreciate his loyalty, but I don’t want him to become Preed’s next target.
Clearing my throat, I offer an olive branch to Preed.
“I heard you’re signed for a new series.”
Preed peels his gaze off Rama to look at me. “Two, actually. Back-to-back.”
“That’s a little risky,” Aran says. “What if you suck?”
“Aran.” Preed curls his upper lip. “Played another secondary part, didn’t you? Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.”
“Fuck off,” Tait says, scooting his chair out from the table and getting to his feet.
At that moment the music cuts off. I look up as Tida speaks into a microphone, telling us that episode one will be airing in a few minutes, and we should take seats at the other side of the club. Turning away from Preed, I place my hand at Rama’s back and guide him in the direction of the couches and chairs arranged in front of the screen.
“You two sit here.” Tida directs us to a red velvet love seat. I notice a guy ready to film our reactions to the episode. I’m relieved when Tait and Aran sit nearby and, looking over my shoulder, spot Preed near the back sitting with the group of women I noticed at the bar earlier.
There’s nothing more exciting than seeing a series pulled together on film, and I’m soon lost in it. Every so often I remember Rama seated beside me and glance at him. He seems as mesmerized as I am. Moving my hand slightly, I press it against Rama’s, eyes turning back to the screen.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Rama