Role Play (Silhouette Studios) Read online

  Contents

  1. Ash

  2. Lucy

  3. Ash

  4. Lucy

  5. Lucy

  6. Lucy

  7. Ash

  8. Ash

  9. Lucy

  10. Lucy

  11. Lucy

  12. Ash

  13. Lucy

  14. Ash

  15. Ash

  16. Lucy

  17. Ash

  18. Ash

  19. Ash

  20. Lucy

  21. Ash

  22. Lucy

  23. Ash

  24. Lucy

  25. Lucy

  26. Ash

  27. Lucy

  28. Lucy

  29. Ash

  30. Lucy

  31. Ash

  32. Ash

  33. Lucy

  Epilogue

  Coming in 2020…

  Famously Bad

  Famously Bad Excerpt

  Callback

  Callback Excerpt

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2019 by Katana Collins

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without the permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Design by: Marisa Wesley of Cover Me Darling LLC

  Edited by: Becca Mysoor at Edits in Blue

  Line Edits and Proofread by: D. Bishop Editing

  Created with Vellum

  Chapter One

  Ash

  I was born a daredevil. Always the risk-taker, I exited the womb so fast, the doctor only just barely caught me as I shot out of my mom’s vagina like some sort of infant Evel Knievel.

  Needless to say, not much rattles me in life. Not when I challenged the largest kid in fifth grade to an arm wrestling match. Not when I was caught cheating on my PSATs. Hell, I wasn’t even rattled when my sister walked in on me beating my meat in the bathroom while flipping through her Seventeen magazine.

  So why the hell was I sweating like a pig in a bacon factory the first week of directing my first major motion picture?

  I rushed down the halls of Silhouette Studios, sweat pushing out of my pores and dripping down the sides of my face. The headset encasing my ears bounced off my jaw with each heavy-footed step, and the clipboard tucked under my arm was quickly becoming saturated.

  We were only a week into filming this movie, and already I was in over my head.

  I briefly squeezed my eyes shut, taking a breath. No, I told myself. I've got this. The second I started doubting, started believing the whispers of insecurity and pessimism, Hollywood would swallow me whole.

  My cell phone was practically affixed to my palm, and I was constantly checking updates and communicating with my executives.

  Around me, the lights were on full blast and hotter than the goddamn Los Angeles sun at the beach. This movie was my baby. I had directed at least a dozen movies already in my career—but none like this. My reel consisted of college-aged comedians getting high and doing stupid shit. This script was different. I knew it from the moment it landed on my desk; from the moment I flipped open the first page. A BDSM introspection that represented me. My kink. My lifestyle. I had to do it justice. Not only for the sake of my community, but for me. Because a film like this? It could make my career if I did it right.

  “If you can keep your dick in your pants,” my boss, and the president of Silhouette Studios, Richard Blair, had joked. That booming voice resonated in my head like a snare drum. Okay, yeah. I had a reputation… but it wasn’t that bad, was it? Sometimes I hook up in the old-fashioned way… meet a girl at a party, go to her place, bang one out vanilla-style. Sometimes, I meet a submissive at LnS or go the professional route with Eve, a career submissive. I just like sex. No matter how it comes to me… though if I was being honest, I prefer being a Dom. Leaving marks on her skin and hearing her cries, trying to decide which are cries of pain and which are cries of pleasure.

  But according to Richard and Jude, the way I was fucking my way through Hollywood had to stop. Rich nearly shat himself when he learned that I had hooked up with our costume designer at a party—I think her name was Callie. Or was it Katie? Shit. In my defense, I met her before the movie was in pre-production and I had no clue we’d be working together at all, let alone this soon after.

  “Ash, I need to see you in my office,” Richard’s voice boomed within my earpiece.

  My eyes adjusted to the blue backlit numbers on my phone. Was it already eight-thirty a.m.? I needed to get the lead out of my ass. I’d been up since four, and on set since five a.m. almost every day this week. We were not only shooting today and tomorrow, but we were also prepping for Sunday’s shoot—the sexiest scene of the movie. When I was done with it, Jude and Marlena would go down in sex scene history with Sharon Stone and Michael Douglas.

  Sunday was a closed set to make sure Jude and Marlena were comfortable. It needed to go perfectly. Hell, if I was being honest, I needed every day to go smoothly, but if I only had to choose one day out of the three-month schedule to go well? It would be Sunday. If this film earned Silhouette Studios an Oscar nod, Richard would have to consider me for other more serious movies. Even with my best friend, Jude, on my side, I had only ever managed to assistant direct the serious films, being looked over time and time again.

  Until now.

  I hit the rubbery button on my headset. “Sure thing, Rich. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “Make it thirty seconds.”

  I all but ran down the corridor to Richard’s corner office with the view of Hollywood hills. When the CEO of your production studio asks you to be quick… you haul ass. With a light knock, I opened the door and slipped inside. “Rich,” I said, finding my boss sitting at the large mahogany desk watching yesterday’s scene on his monitor. Jude was standing over his shoulder, already dressed in his costume and makeup, his eyes lifting from the monitor to look at me as I entered. They both looked tired, but Richard more than usual. Though he was older than me at forty, the lines on his face seemed deeper today, and he wasn’t smiling and offering to pour me a scotch like he usually did.

  “Come on in,” Rich said, pausing the footage. “And shut the door behind you.”

  Uh oh. This wasn’t good. I did as I was told and slid into the seat opposite Richard as Jude circled around to the other side of the desk and lowered into the armchair beside me. “What’s going on?” I didn’t often feel nervous, but right now, with Richard’s glare not faltering from the monitor… I squirmed in my seat like a schoolboy being sent to the damn principal’s office.

  “I called you and Jude in here because I’ve been reviewing last week’s shots. And… they’re lacking a bit of nuance in my opinion.”

  The air punched out of my gut. In his opinion? What fucking opinion was that? My hands balled into fists, my chest tightening painfully. Everyone on the crew had been working tirelessly—nonstop—for three months in pre-production. Those shots were gorgeous. The script was perfect.

  I paused, gripping the small wedding band that barely fit around my pinky. Hammered white gold. Classy. Understated. Just like Brie had been. Emotion clogged my throat, and I had to swallow twice before it dislodged. Five years. Had it already been that long? It felt like a lifetime, and yet, also like it was only yesterday that we were lying on the couch together watching Friends reruns as she threaded her fingers through my hair.

  I released my hold on her wedding band, pull
ing my attention back to the here and now. Here. On the lot of Silhouette Studios directing my biggest film yet. Now. Brie was gone. Here. Surrounded by my crew and employees. Now. I wore her wedding band as a constant reminder of the woman I lost.

  Now... I was miserable. Five years and I was still as miserable as the day she died.

  Deep breaths, baby, Brie would have whispered if she’d been here. She would have squeezed my knee to calm me down. Yeah, she still talked to me. Every day—several times a day—like a fucking lunatic, I still heard her voice.

  I listened to her words deep in the back of my mind and dragged a shaky breath through my tight lips. Every day it felt like her voice was growing further and further away. Each morning, I was forgetting something so minor, so small—the way her voice would be rough in the morning before coffee, or how it would crack when she tried to sing karaoke—and with each fading memory, she was slipping further and further away from me.

  Which only pissed me off more.

  “Some of the problem lies in the script, but I think there’s been a slight misinterpretation of it, too.” Even though Jude was voicing a criticism of my direction, I was thankful for the disruption as I was about to wander down memory lane. For some people, it was paved in candied, sweet memories. For me? It was dirty, bumpy, and I was bound to get lost there in the twisting, winding darkness.

  “Meaning… I’m misinterpreting the script? How so? We chose these shots together. We developed these storyboards together.” I had to calm down. These sorts of meetings were part of what directing was. I forced my balled fists to uncurl—even if I didn’t agree with my boss, I had to remain professional. One of the best things to ever come from Brie, and my position as a Dom, was that I learned to control my temper in work situations. My temper wasn’t an issue in the bedroom. But on set with employees? It was one of my biggest faults. I took a deep breath and tried again. “I understand that the first week’s shots may not be perfect, but we can adjust them in post-production—”

  “Yes, we can,” Rich said, his voice even and calm. “But that isn’t going to help us, moving forward, to get the focus of future scenes correct. We can fix the mistakes as they happen, but if we don’t address and alter the actual problem, then we’re not truly solving anything, are we?”

  I pressed my lips together and felt my face flame hot.

  Rich sighed and lifted a cup of coffee, sipping it before continuing. “BDSM is a weird thing, isn’t it?”

  My shoulders knotted around my ears. I wasn’t exactly protective of my lifestyle; I didn’t care who knew I was a Dominant, but I didn’t like it being called weird either. It was kink—a damn fun one if you asked me—and I wasn’t broken or emotionally damaged because I enjoyed it. I was broken because of other shit, but not because of this. So hearing my boss, someone I admired and respected, call me weird wasn’t exactly what I was ready for this morning before I’d even had a chance to have my fucking coffee. When I started in the lifestyle, I was fine. Healthy. Emotionally in tact. Happy. So fucking happy.

  Some men become hermits after a loved one dies. I, on the other hand, dove headfirst into sex as my escape. I felt guilty the first few times, but ultimately, Brie had been the one to teach me that sex and intimacy weren't exclusive. She had been the one to show me how emotionally freeing sex and the scenes could be. I told myself daily that I needed it to move on from her—but the truth? Being an active Dominant in the community was what kept me close to her. She was a masochist—she loved pain. And before Brie, I’d never enjoyed sadism. Before Brie, I never enjoyed a lot of things.

  Beside me, Jude cleared his throat. “How do you mean that, Rich?” he asked, way calmer than me, but also, if you knew Jude at all, he was just as concerned by what Rich said as I was.

  Richard examined us, his eyes drifting to my hands, clutching my knees. “Relax,” Rich said. “I know you’re both Dominants. I’m not calling you weird… I'm saying that the different perceptions of it can be strange.”

  I inhaled a sharp breath as Jude and I exchanged quick looks. “You know we’re Doms?” I asked.

  Rich shrugged. “Of course. I recognized it in you the second we first met eight years ago. Jude, it took me a little longer to figure out, simply because he is quieter of the two of you. Do you belong to a club?”

  “LnS,” I said quietly. Jude and I had been exclusive members at LnS, a secret BDSM club, for years. As far as I knew, there were only ten clubs similar to LnS in all of California. LnS had private quarters in the upstairs section of the fetish club. Downstairs was a normal goth bar—it had elements of the BDSM lifestyle, but in a playful, voyeuristic way. Upstairs? That was the real thing. A place for high profile Los Angeles personalities to get their kink on without being outed. It was highly secretive. And the club made sure that you didn’t mention a word about its members to anyone. They had files of dirt on every member, and revealing anything would result in them leaking your darkest secret to the tabloids, or worse.

  Out of reflex, I touched my fingers to Brie's ring again, cursing myself for the nervous tick.

  I stood, moving to the French press Richard kept in the corner of his office, and poured myself a cup.

  From across the room, still seated behind his desk, Richard nodded. “LnS. Of course. I was never a member there. It came after I had left the scene.”

  My coffee mug froze halfway to my mouth. “So, then you're a...?” I let the question dangle between us like a swinging pendulum.

  "A Dom," Richard answered. If he was fazed by the question, it didn't show. It wasn’t exactly a shock that Richard was also a Dom. Everything about his personality screamed it. From the strict regimen he had in the mornings, to the way he commanded a room from the moment he walked in. But just because someone was powerful in a boardroom didn’t necessarily mean they were like that in the bedroom. Hell, I knew high-powered attorneys and senators who spent so much of their professional life in charge that when it came to the bedroom, they wanted a someone to dominate them. “I’m not a part of that life anymore, but that doesn’t mean I don’t respect it.”

  Again, I snuck a glance at Jude, and his expression shifted so subtly that, if you didn’t know him, you wouldn’t have even noticed the quick twitch of his brow. “Is this why we were both chosen to work on this film?” he asked. “Because you knew we were each in the lifestyle?”

  Rich nodded. “That was part of it. I knew that by being in the lifestyle, you could both bring a nuance to your roles in the film. But it wasn’t the sole reason.” Rich paused. “That being said, there’s still something lacking in last week’s shoot.”

  “Lacking?” Defensive anger inflated in my gut like a helium balloon. “We’ve been working our asses off—”

  “I know, I know. But I see what I see, Ash. Don’t take this the wrong way. The studio has a lot of money in this and we want it to do well.” He cleared his throat, setting his coffee mug down and resting his elbows on the desk. “Jude, you reviewed some of the footage with me. What do you think?”

  Jude chewed the inside of his cheek in thought for a moment before turning to me. “He’s not wrong. Something’s off with the shots. Like I said before, it’s partially the script and interpretation of the script. And I think we made a casting mistake in the supporting role. Chase is a good guy and a good actor, but I think we should have gone with Pierce Whitley to play my brother.”

  I took a deep breath. “I begged you and the producers to go with Pierce. He’s an incredible actor and he’s been wanting to break out from his HBO show.”

  Jude put up two hands in surrender. “I know, I know. And I can see now that you’re right.”

  Rich nodded, pressing his fingers to his lips, deep in thought. “I can admit when I’m wrong. Pierce is the better actor for this role.”

  “How air-tight is Chase’s contract?” I asked.

  “We could buy him out,” Rich said quickly. “None of our contracts are air-tight.” Jude cleared his throat beside us, and Rich ro
lled his eyes. “Except yours, of course. Let’s touch base with Pierce Whitley and make sure he could still commit to the role. No need to fire Chase and stir the pot if Pierce is no longer available.”

  I nodded, my heart pounding at the thought of getting Pierce in here for the role. His interpretation could change the whole tone of the film, and for the better.

  Just as I was feeling better, Rich cleared his throat and added, “But there’s something else that’s been bothering me with these shots. I get the feeling that the perspective is wrong.” Rich tapped the mouse, rewinding the footage and letting it roll silently before us as he spoke. “It’s very focused on the lifestyle itself versus the fact that the true story is about entry into the lifestyle—the learning process that begins when someone is first introduced as a submissive. I started as a submissive… trained as one first before becoming a Dom, which I know is how a lot of us entered.”

  “I started as a sub, too,” Jude said.

  I sat there silently and swallowed hard. I didn’t want to talk about my entry into the lifestyle. I couldn’t talk about Brie’s involvement in BDSM and our time together. I couldn’t destroy her legacy, betray her like that. I might not care who knew about my kink, but she definitely cared. And therefore, I couldn’t answer Rich’s unspoken question. Couldn’t share our journey together. Explain that Brie trained me as a Dominant, not a submissive. That she guided me, formed me into the best Dominant I could be for her. Because I didn’t care about learning to be a Dom for anyone else. I never thought I’d have to be.