Breaking Free by Cara Dee Read Free Book Online

publicist had told him. "I've been told I'm not approachable enough. That I'm arrogant and hermit-like."
    Noah folded his arms over his chest, his shoulders shaking with laughter. "Hermit-like," he repeated. "That’s a good one." He shook his head and chuckled. "I guess it's true to some degree. A lot of your work takes place up here." He tapped his temple. "The people around you just watch it unfold. We follow your lead." He shrugged slightly at that. "And of course you're arrogant. Aren't all directors arrogant?"
    Tennyson grimaced. "There's a difference between confidence and arrogance."
    "Never claimed there wasn’t, but I've never worked with a director who wasn’t arrogant." He tilted his head. "As for the scale…I'd say you're a twelve."
    " Twelve ?" Tennyson couldn’t believe it. Was he that bad? Christ .
    "It's not necessarily a bad thing," Noah defended. "You're impatient as fuck and you don’t give much feedback, but aside from that… Tennyson, you're the only director I've wanted to work with more than once. You're demanding and yeah, antisocial, but you create amazing films."
    Tennyson frowned and scrubbed a hand over his jaw. "All right." He couldn’t alter his directing style, but he supposed he could try paying more attention to the people around him when he was off the clock. When he worked, he lived and breathed the production, but he could make an effort to—at the very least—remember names and be polite. And give more feedback.
    "Was there anything else?" Noah smirked.
    One thing, and Tennyson felt sheepish about it. "What's my PA's name?"
    Noah cracked up and turned to leave. "Tyler," he called over his shoulder.
    Tyler. Okay. Tyler.
    *
    After his shower that night, Tennyson found himself hesitating in front of his open closet. Picking out clothes wasn’t a difficulty in general, but he didn’t even know where they were going. Was there a dress code? Would he need his shades?
    He swiped up his phone and dialed the number under "Production: Unrecovered, PA."
    His PA picked up after the first ring. "What can I do for you, Mr. Wright?"
    What the… Had Tennyson not told him to call him by name?
    "It's Tennyson. Mr. Wright is my father," he replied. "I was wondering where I'm going with Sophie tonight."
    "Oh, let me see." There was some shuffling of papers in the background. "You're going to that art café. I added the details to your phone. You and Ms. Pierce will get your canvas at nine, and they only serve refreshments during the event, so I suggest you eat before."
    "Wait, wait—" Tennyson pinched the bridge of his nose, confused. "What event, and what about a canvas?"
    There was a long pause before Tyler responded. "Didn’t you read the email I forwarded?"
    Perhaps Tennyson had forgotten.
    "I'll call you back," he muttered. Then added, "Thanks, Tyler."
    He sat down on the edge of his bed with a heavy sigh and checked his email. Each line he read caused his brows to lift higher and higher. This wasn’t some simple date he and Sophie could fake their way through. The publicists in charge of their showmance had signed them up for a goddamn charity event for animals without shelter and illegal hunting.
    In sixty cities across the world, two celebrities in each location would come together and create an art piece that would be auctioned off at some benefit in London this September. Each celebrity couple—romantically involved, friends, or related—would be given a canvas, art supplies, and two hours to make something that would go along with the theme, which was "Wild."
    Tennyson clicked on a few links that the studio had put in the email, and it brought him to news articles about the event. Apparently, it had generated a lot of attention in major cities like New York, LA, Rome, Paris, and Sydney, and they were halfway through. Tonight was Vancouver, and the celebrities who had been on the list originally had backed out.
    Tennyson cursed and scratched his jaw, following another couple links.