Bright studio lights shone down on the two actors. Two cameras ran for the scene. If you hadn’t been on a set before, it would look like the picture-perfect rendition of moviemaking. But the spectacle in front of Anna lacked one thing. Just one important little thing. It lacked even the remotest whisper of chemistry between the two actors. Nothing. Nada. Niente.

Derek and Nicole moved like robots whose human-emotion simulation programming had malfunctioned. Anna would give them a bit more time to regain their footing before calling cut.

Unfortunately, the scene they were filming was one of the more tender moments between the two characters. Replacing the other director meant Anna didn’t have the usual pre-shooting time to talk to the actors and create an atmosphere of trust. She’d done what she could. She’d answered Derek’s anxious questions about the changes to the script. She’d listened to Nicole’s complaints about her career.

Derek pushed Nicole’s hair out of her face and poked her in the eye. This was not going to end well.

Unbidden, memories of lazy kisses and urgent hands came to mind. Anna glanced at John. He stood on the opposite side of the soundstage, waiting until the take was over to resume his discussion with the art director. He leaned against the far wall, arms crossed over his chest.

He’d done an amazing job sorting the administrative details. The shooting schedule, the call sheets, the budget, all of it ran smoothly. Frankly, she hoped he was sleeping. The amount of work he’d done since arriving in Rome was formidable. They’d both been overly polite and professional, as if they were posing for stock footage of proper intraoffice relations.

The two actors hadn’t improved in the last few minutes. Nicole barely covered her look of disgust. Too bad Jenny’s rewrites hadn’t included the love interest murdering her vampire lover.

“Cut,” Anna called.

Derek and Nicole immediately took a step back away from each other. Nicole had her arms crossed over her chest. Derek stared up at the ceiling. This situation required more than the usual restart.

Anna called a fifteen-minute break. Derek walked out of the soundstage, his shoulders set with determination. Nicole stood at the craft services table, checking her phone.

Anna approached Nicole and poured the other woman a glass of water. She’d no idea how to get the actress to open up. It had been a long time since she had filmed anything with Jenny’s brand of nuanced thoughtfulness. Anna might be struggling as much as the actors. I’ve been working on autopilot for a few years.

“Too bad the producers didn’t make the AD the lead,” Nicole said, glancing over Anna’s shoulder. “He’s hot. I heard he’s an actor too.”

“He’s a screenwriter.”

John was probably still doing the leaning thing. He was good at it.