theatrical: slang for a feature-length motion picture.

Tallulah didn’t tell Nick about the exchange with Naomi at the afterparty. Not because she didn’t want to worry or upset him, but because she wasn’t exactly sure what to make of it. She leaned more toward considering it unimportant enough to not bring up. Besides, he had other things on his mind.

And what was she supposed to say, anyway?

Oh, your ex told me she’s proud of you for not being a fucking drunk anymore.

In the limo, it was quiet.

Tallulah rested her head in his lap, the train of her couture dress spilling over the edge of the seat and onto the floor. Goosebumps prickled her skin as Nick trailed a finger up and down her arm, drawing invisible lines, shapes, and circles that made her feel good.

Ever since his win, her phone wouldn’t stop buzzing with a flood of texts from those close to her: Finn and her girlfriends. Nick had been smart enough to turn his off. She would’ve done the same but kept it on for Milo, who watched from home with Aishwarya, Tammy, Lanya, and Juan.

Tallulah promised herself that she would respond to all the texts in the morning.

After the limo pulled through the security gates and into the roundabout driveway, Nick exited first, offering her his hand. He escorted her to the mansion’s front door.

Tallulah placed her hand on the doorknob and arched an eyebrow at Nick. “Are you ready for this?”

“You know it.”

“One, two, three,” she whispered and twisted the doorknob, opening it.

A tidal wave of congratulations greeted them.

Milo ran to them and threw his arms around Nick’s torso.

“I’m proud of you, Dad.” He propped his chin on his father’s abdomen, looking up with a cheesy grin. “Can I hold it?”

“By all means,” Nick replied, handing the Oscar to his son, who gawked at it in awe before running off, chanting, “My dad won an Oscar! My dad won an Oscar!”

————

The others had stayed an hour longer before calling it a night. All except Nick’s publicist, who thought a meeting on career strategy was a better way to occupy his now-Academy-Award-winning client’s time.

“I’ve got quite a few calls to make in the morning,” Juan said, his grin pure greediness.

Tallulah sat on a barstool at the kitchen island, eating a bowl of pineapple chunks from the fruit platter left over from the catered spread she had ordered for the others to enjoy while they watched the Awards.

Nick leaned against the kitchen counter and gave his publicist an unimpressed look. “The last thing I need is for you to get a fucking hard-on in my kitchen.”

Juan shrugged. “Money makes me hard.”

He guzzled down the rest of his beer in a celebratory manner before wagging a finger at Nick. “You were supposed to go to the Governors Ball and Diane’s afterparty. It would’ve been good for you to parade around that trophy some more for the cameras.”

“I know what’s good for me,” Nick said, glancing at Tallulah as she shoved another pineapple chunk into her mouth.

Juan tossed the empty bottle into the trash. “It’s fine. I’ll book a photoshoot with People, Variety, or Vanity Fair. You got a preference?”

“Juan, I don’t give a fuck,” Nick said coolly, “which is why I pay you to give a fuck.”

Tallulah added, pointing a pineapple speared on a fork at Juan, “And you do a wonderful job at giving a fuck.”

Giving an uncharacteristic bow with dramatic flair, he said, “Thank you, Tally. But I know when I’ve overstayed my welcome. I bid thee farewell.”

“Good, take your Shakespearean ass home,” Nick said, annoyed.

“I love you too, Nicky.” Juan winked and aimed finger-guns his client’s way, walking with a pep in his step out the door.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Juan like that before.” She stabbed a chunk of pineapple and popped it into her mouth.

“An angel dies when he smiles,” Nick replied.

She bit back a laugh.

Their son lounged in the living room, watching the first act of Wicked People as gunshots, explosions, and cries of agony blared from the speakers.

“Time for bed, kiddo,” Tallulah called but got no answer. “Milo!”

He entered the kitchen, hugging the Oscar like a teddy bear.

“Can’t I stay up a little longer? The movie’s getting to the good part where Dad gouges out a henchman’s eyes.”

“You’ve seen enough, and it’s way past your bedtime, kid. You need rest, and so do me and your dad. Time for bed.”

Milo pouted but complied, pivoting on his heel to leave before Tallulah cleared her throat. He turned around, glanced at the statue, then back up at her, his smile sheepish.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” He placed the trophy on the counter. Nick came up behind him as he walked away, coiling his arm around the little boy’s waist.

He lifted his son, trapping the boy’s torso in the crook of his arm. “All right, kid, I’ll tuck you in.”

“Dad,” Milo squealed, squirming in Nick’s hold.

Up the stairs they went, full of laughter.

After polishing off the bowl of pineapple, Tallulah cleaned it in the sink with a green scrubby sponge. The movie still played loudly, and at one point, a character screamed so loud she suspected it was the scene where Nick’s character gouged a henchman’s eyeballs out. Her mind wandered back to her conversation with Naomi at the Vanity Fair Oscar afterparty.

“I think you’re so brave...”

Those words echoed in her mind.

For months now, Tallulah wrestled with how to define Naomi beyond just a colleague or Nick’s ex. They weren’t by no means close enough to be friends, but were they allies?

Or was Naomi nothing more than a foe?

After what had unfolded in the ladies’ room and in the corridor, Tallulah wasn’t sure. A tiny fear sprouted within her that if she didn’t find out soon, it was bound to backfire on her.

Tallulah nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt two strong arms curl around her waist and a pair of lips press a kiss at the crook of her neck.

She closed her eyes and laughed breathlessly. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” Nick said, though he didn’t sound sorry in the slightest.

In fact, he sounded pleased as hell.

“Is there any way I can make it up to you?” he asked, his lips grazing her ear, his breath fanning sensitive skin.

Tallulah’s eyelids fluttered shut. She dropped the scrubby into the sink and washed her hands before reaching for a towel to dry them off.

Then she turned in his arms, wrapping hers around his neck. “You can figure out where to put your shiny Oscar.”

“I do not know where to start.”

“You’ve never pictured where to put it?”

“No. I never thought I’d get one,” Nick said, bowing his head to kiss her. However, she dodged him and slipped out of his embrace.

Tallulah walked over to the kitchen island and picked up the golden statue. “Well, we need to rectify that. You need to find the perfect place for it.”

Nick grinned. “It’d make a good doorstop.”

“Ha ha, funny.” She rolled her eyes. “The sooner you figure out where to put this, the sooner we can get to the other things.”

“All right,” he said, grabbing the award. “I’ll find it a good home, and then we can have our own celebration.”

“I look forward to it,” she said.

He leaned down to kiss her, but she pressed her finger to his lips.

“After you put the trophy away,” she said.

Nick backed away, smirking. “Don’t go far, woman.”

“Maybe, I will,” she teased. “I think you like the thrill of the hunt.”

“Damn right.”

After he left, Tallulah went to the bedroom. She took off her couture gown, wiped off her makeup, and tied her hair in a scarf, choosing to deal with it later. She then slipped into pajamas and went into the living room to turn off that loud-ass movie.

As she reached for the remote control, she heard a husky command:

“Leave it.”

She paused, looking toward his voice.

Nick sauntered in, his tux jacket gone, belt undone, and dress shirt unbuttoned, leaving his toned torso on display.

“What took you so long?”

“I had to find a nice spot for it,” he said, “just like you wanted.”

She pursed her lips, giving him a knowing look. She grabbed the remote to turn the flatscreen off, but Nick plucked it from her hand and dropped it on a side table beside the sofa.

“Leave it. I want to watch.”

Like father, like son, she thought, crossing her arms.

Tallulah cocked her head, amused. “I thought you said you wanted to celebrate.”

“I do,” he said. “Right here on this sofa.”

“No funny business?” She arched an eyebrow.

“There’ll be business, but it won’t be anything funny.” Nick went to the control panel and lowered the lights to sleep.

Then he rounded the sofa and claimed his spot.

“Come have a seat, Desiree.” He peered over his shoulder at her. “My favorite part’s about to come on.”

Once she sat beside him, he draped his arm over the coach’s crest just behind her.

For a few minutes, they enjoyed Wicked People. The last time she saw the movie was when she took Milo to see it for his birthday last year.

She remembered how good Nick was in it with his stylish suits, dark shades, and high-tech watches. How his character handled weapons with such cool ease. How the choreographed fights all felt sickeningly real with the screams and the splatters of blood and brain matter and organs. How the explosions, car chases, and the swelling cinematic score made her pulse race.

Mercer Cross was untouchable on the screen, but Nick Bryant was with her on this sofa.

Now, Tallulah ached to touch him.

She looked over her shoulder briefly, worried their son might interrupt, before reaching over and placing her hand on Nick’s lap.

Tallulah kept her eyes on the movie as her fingers crept over the curve of his thigh and between his legs, journeying to his groin. She placed her palm there and rubbed, not surprised to find him hard as a rock for her.

Her focus faltered on a helicopter chase action sequence over Prague’s historic landscape of medieval, Gothic, and Baroque terracotta-roofed architecture. Then she slipped off her spot and onto the floor.

She eased back onto her knees and gazed up at him, drinking up the way he stared down at her. The brilliant colors from the TV screen splashed over his face, his eyes emitting a haunting allure. She tugged her bottom lip into her mouth, smoothing her hands up his thighs.

She popped undone his trousers’ button. Then, the sound of metal teeth filled the air as she dragged the zipper tab down.

Tallulah reached in, slipping inside his boxer briefs to free his hard cock. She enclosed her fingers around him, gliding her hand up and down along his thick length.

Leaning in, she gave the cleft of his thick mushroom head a slow lick, savoring the warm taste of him on her tongue. The sound of her gentle slurping filled the air as she took him into her wet, moaning mouth.

She sucked to a hungry rhythm, her head bobbing. Her gaze fixated on his face, her fingers twisting around the base of his dick. Her tongue bathed and swirled around the crown of his dick every time she reached the top.

Nick kept his eyes on her, unwavering.

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