Lights, Camera, Omega - Page 100

Chapter Thirty-One

Julian

I’m at my sewing machine, working on a gown for Daphne that Cosmo has commissioned for our upcoming getaway, when I hear Daphne’s Caddy pull into the gravel drive.

She practically skips into my atelier, her eyes glittering with excitement.

“Jules, I have some incredible news!” she chirps happily, flouncing onto one of my many wheeled stools—scooting gleefully across the empty floor on four squeaky casters.

I set my sewing down, turning on my stool to face her.

“Well then, darling.” I lean across the small space between us to peck a kiss down into the part of her flaxen hair.

“By all means, do tell!” I fold my hands in my lap, the very portrait of an attentive listener.

“I got the lead in the new LaRenta film!” she squeals, barely able to contain her excitement.

Instinctively I jump up from my stool, sweeping her up and into my arms and swinging her around the atelier as I shout my congratulations.

“I knew you could do it! Our little star!” I crow happily, setting Daphne back on her own two feet.

“I know, I know—you told me so,” she laughs, her gaze falling suddenly to the floor.

“There’s only one problem.” Daphne lifts her face to look at me once more. A flicker of apprehension tempers her joyous expression; her smile no longer showing her teeth—her eyelids drooping ever so slightly.

“Oh, and what’s that?” I cup her cheek with my hand. Daphne turns her face into my gentle caress.

“The LaRenta Picture is shooting on location… Near Fiji… For nearly five months,” she delivers the news haltingly.

Five months?

My heart pounds, and I can feel my mouth go dry.

Magnus had been anticipating a start date sometime for his next contractual obligation feature for Panopticon sometime in the next two months. Most of it would be shot on a soundstage in the studio lot, though there had been some discussion of traveling as far as Prague to get some location footage.

The prospect of so much distance while the entire pack is due to be up to their eyeballs in work… could very well be a death sentence for even the most established of pack relationships, let alone Pack Silver—before all of our bonds have even been made.

My face must be showing my dismay, because Daphne presses her hands flat against my chest—her palms warm over my heart.

“Julian, is everything alright?” She looks up at me, eyes already glossy with tears.

I let my hand drop from her cheek, folding her into my embrace with a low, resonant purr to calm both of our nerves.

“Everything is going to be alright,” I assure Daphne, gently stroking her hair—her sweet peony, apricot, honey scent washing over me, making my heart skip a beat even through so much uncertainty.

I say the words, sweet as her perfume—even if I don’t know if they’ll actually prove true.

I’m busily preparing a multi-course dinner in the hopes that it will help allay some of my buzzing anxiety and Daphne is still out at the bar celebrating her new role in the LaRenta film with her new agent and her friend Ursula when Sol shuffles into the kitchen at Tern’s Nest.

Though Daphne had wanted to tell Sol, Cosmo, and Magnus about her own successes in person—the Hollywood gossip grapevine had already delivered news of her new starring role and the nearly half a year on location in fucking Fiji to Sol before she had the chance.

“Did you hear?” he asks, as he pulls up a stool to the kitchen island—helping himself to a glass of the pinot gris I’ve opened to cook with.

“About Daphne and the LaRenta film?” I sigh heavily, checking on the chicken studded with cloves of garlic, slices of lemon, and tiny sprigs of rosemary roasting in the oven.

“Yeah.” Sol lets out a long breath, his shoulders sagging.

We exchange wary looks.