“I’m not saying she can’t.” Reed narrowed his eyes. “Her career is already on a knife’s edge, and I don’t want it destroyed by a tabloid story sold by some hack.”

Before John could reply, Reed stood abruptly, leaving him with his thoughts.

Chapter Eighteen

The next day, Anna entered the soundstage. She did a mental calculation like a teacher on a fieldtrip, making sure everyone was in place.

Anna didn’t believe in luck. She believed if someone worked hard enough, then luck would find them. The cast and crew hadn’t even been on site for a week, but already, they were working well together. She hadn’t turned things around completely. Derek and Nicole still occasionally danced around each other, both anxious about the changes to their characters. Pauline still raided everyone’s clothes in order to outfit the cast. The art director still looked like a history professor who’d gotten lost on his way to class, but her luck was right around the corner. It would get here soon. She hadn’t worked this hard in a long time, and surprisingly, it turned out The Final Vampire was the project to get her out of her slump.

Anna completed her sweep of the soundstage. The whole crew looked ready to go. They should be starting to film in a few minutes, but Cole appeared to be making last-minute changes to the lighting, and one actor was missing. Technically, he wasn’t late yet, but she didn’t want to run the risk of something going wrong.

This shoot and her experience with him in London were evidence of Reed’s changed behavior. Still, he wasn’t here, and she was fairly certain she knew why. Anna had seen Jenny dash into the storage area behind the production office.

As Anna walked out of the soundstage, John said, “Hey, we need to talk.”

She stopped short. Did he want to talk about their conversation the other day? About going after what you want and all the things she had thought about while trying to fall asleep at night?

“I don’t have enough money in the budget for the requested changes from the art department, and I can’t source the fake blood we need for the final battle.”

No, he didn’t want to talk about their conversation. He wanted to talk about work, as they should. Anna, apparently, was the one who couldn’t be normal. Perhaps the memories of the afternoon at the bar didn’t linger for him the way they did for her.

Before she could respond, Cole stepped up to the two of them. “I can’t believe you are allowing this kind of unprofessionalism on set.”

“Excuse us,” she said to John.

Anna drew Cole toward the shaded awning, away from the others. She glanced back to see John frowning at them.

“I should’ve known,” Cole said, glancing between John and Anna.