“Right,” he answered seriously. “Why. So. Blue? Of all the colors, why did Picasso choose blue?”

“I’m guessing you know the reason,” I said.

“Yeah. It was during his blue period.”

“You’re fucking with me now,” I laughed.

“Nope,” he said, and I noticed how he didn’t back away. Yet I didn’t mind it. “During this time, he was struggling with depression. Some sources say he even thought of giving up painting. Nothing he did was good enough anymore. Under this very painting, there are three other figures. I always wondered how it must have felt to be one of the greatest and most influential artists of the twentieth century and walk into your own studio not once or twice but three times and hate the very thing you created with your own hands so much that you had to cover it up.”

“Amelia?” We both turned toward the entrance where Noah stood, staring at us blankly. “Everyone is waiting for you.”

“Shit! Really?” I rushed toward him, but stopped halfway. “It was nice meeting you, Léo, and thank you.”

“For what?” he asked.

“Calling me out.”

“Anytime,” he responded with a grin.

“Yeah, I found her. We are on our way back now,” Noah said on the phone, still waiting. Waving once more at Léo, I followed Noah out of the gallery. “You shouldn’t be walking around by yourself,” he said.

“Why, because some crazed fan is going to jump me in a museum? It’s like no one knows me here.” For a few seconds, I was just Amelia, and I liked it.

“Just because someone doesn’t say they know you doesn’t mean they don’t know you. You should get a bodyguard.”

“I’m fine, Dad, thanks,” I muttered under my breath. We turned the corner to find the whole crew just standing around. Even worse, the director looked pissed. Checking my phone, I noticed almost an hour had gone by since he told me to take a short break.

“You really are trying to prove everyone right, aren’t you?” Noah said, leaving me to face them on my own.

“Amelia, there you are,” Ollie’s voice went up two octaves.

Shit.

Noah

What the hell happened?

I wasn’t sure, but I had a feeling it had to be that guy—Léo, I think she said his name was. Leave her alone for a few minutes, and she was attracting strays, like always. I wonder what it must be like to be so blissfully ignorant to the dangers of our lives. Either way, the person she was this morning and the person she was now were light years apart, so again, what the fuck happened?

“Cut. Amazing, Amelia. Let’s just go straight into the next scene at the vault, alright?” The director jumped up. Everyone scattered like bugs hurrying to get what they needed. They moved quickly, most likely worried that whatever had inspired her latest performance would evaporate.

“Great. Do you mind if I do at least part of the stunt myself?” she asked with a wide smile, downing the bottle of water and following behind them.

“Yeah. I mean no. Sure, but your contract—”

“I want it to look as real as possible. I swear I’ll be careful not to push beyond anything I can do,” she assured.

Huh? I was so lost.

“What did you say to her this time?” Austin whispered beside me, making me even more confused.

Clenching my jaw, I took my spot next to her. She didn’t look at me. Instead, she just inhaled, whispered something to herself, and focused on the camera in front of our faces.

“And… Action!”

Consecrate.

“Damon, we have two minutes and forty-nine second before the alarm goes off.” She glanced around the corner and then back at her watch.

“More than enough time,” I said, slowly turning the lock.

“That’s what you said last time.”

“Hey! We made it out, didn’t we?”

“Whatever you say.”

When I made a face at her when she turned her back, I saw the director smile.

Beep.

“Damon…”

“Shh...”

“Shush me again.”

Standing up, I got in her face. “I swear to God, Blair.”

She didn’t back down. “Two minutes twenty-seven seconds. Should I get it, sweetheart?”

Lifting my hands to her face, I clenched my fist as if I wanted to choke her and then turned back to the task at hand.

“Thought so,” she said, even though it wasn’t in the script.

Oh, we’re improvising now?

“Keep mouthing off, babe. I’ll remember that when you’re on all fours begging me to fuck you harder.”

Her mouth dropped open. Smirking, I winked at her.

“Two minutes—” she said.

Click.

“Told you, more than enough time.” I pushed open the vault. “Now, can you do your job in time?”

Stepping out of her heels, she dropped a good six inches. After taking her gloves out of her purse, she handed me her bag.

“Don’t stare at my ass.”

“When you say ‘don’t’ you really mean I should, correct?” I asked, handing her the fake rolled-up painting.

Grinning, she took the painting from me before bending slowly.

“As much as I enjoy the view, Blair—”

“Shh…It’s part of my process.”

I glanced at her ass again and then back at the camera, winking.

“Shit!” she said.

“What?”

“Each title has a different pressure sensor,” she replied. She crouched down, glancing at the doors of the vault.

“Blair, we only get one chance at this.”

“I know. I just need to think—” Grabbing her arm, I pulled her to her feet, forcing her to look me in the eyes. My lips crashed down on hers, grabbing a handful of her ass and pressing her into me, our tongues circling one another.

“Figure it out. We have just over a minute,” I said.

“You know when you kiss me like that I can do anything…” her thumb grazed over my lips.

“Good. Now get a move on.”

“And cut! Beautiful!” The director clapped, and so did a few others. However, even I noticed the looks Amelia was getting.

Some were confused. Others impressed. However, it was the looks of lust that bothered me the most, and I had no right to be bothered.

“That’s a wrap, everyone. Call time is tomorrow at six am!”

She didn’t spare me a glance as she casually walked to Ollie, smiling cheerfully, like it was such a big deal to do well on a few scenes.

“What do you want to eat?” Austin questioned while texting.

“Ms. London?” The sound guy awkwardly called to her. “Do you mind if I get an autograph? I’m a fan.”

“He’s completely unprofessional,” I complained as she laughed, signing his shirt.

“What’s wrong with you? You’ve been annoyed since you both came back. Did something happen?”

“No. Going for a smoke,” I said, reaching into my pocket.

What was wrong with me? I was annoyed, and horny from kissing her, and on top of it all, I had a headache bigger than Texas.

The cool air helped when I walked out on the steps in front of the museum, but only for a moment when I saw him—the guy with the ponytail and ripped jeans. He was speaking to some older man at the bottom of the steps.

“Noah, we’re all set.” Austin stepped up right beside me, following my gaze. “You know Léo Lémieux?”

“Who?”

“The artist you’re glaring at, Léo Lémieux. He recently came down from Montreal. I’ve seen his work. They call him the modern master of the female nude.”

“Oh God, my feet hurt,” a voice said.

I didn’t need to look back to know it was Amelia.

It was like everything in that one moment slowed down, and I could clearly see what would happen if I stood out of her way. She’d see him, and he’d see her, and—

“Hey, I know him.” She paused right beside me, raising her hand as she called out to him. “Léo?”

He glanced around, confused.

“Léo!” She waved, leaving all of us—Ollie, Austin, myself—to run toward a guy she’d never met before.

This was one of the side effects of being a child star. We all lacked the ability to reason and act like normal adults sometimes. We weren’t around many kids our age unless we were working, and everyone was always nice to us because we were celebrities. We could do whatever the hell we wanted and speak to whomever we wanted like we’d known them our whole lives. But worst of all, most of us were eager to meet new people—Amelia especially.