Twirling her hair, Donna's hips sway with prowess, drawn forward by dark, lustful pupils. High stakes kick up the tension as she flutters her lashes, purring, "You like the danger, don't you?"
A strong hand wraps around her waist, tugging her toward temptation.
"You have no idea."
Her mouth is crushed by passionate lips, an ache starting to throb under the tight grip pinching her hip.
"And cut!"
She pulls back, resisting the urge to wipe away the sloppy kiss as the film's male lead whispers under his breath, "No offense, but if we have to reshoot this scene one more time, I'm going on strike."
She rubs her side in agreement. There's nothing sexy about the bruise she'll have to deal with after being pulled into her fake lover's arms nine times in a row. "No offense taken. But if we do, grab me a little higher."
"Shit," he panics. "Did I hurt you?"
"Just a little tender."
They practiced their blocking for an hour, and he hits his mark every time. It's not his fault their director is a neurotic dictator.
"Show me."
Taking his hand, she places it a couple of inches above where he's been gripping her. "Here, that's good. Shouldn't affect continuity."
He lowers his gaze, double-checking the spot. "Yeah, I've got it." Glancing up, he catches eyes on them and smirks. "Ah, Donna… I think your security detail might like a word."
She pivots to where Harvey's standing, his body rigid as he beckons her with a firm nod.
They couldn't keep the incident at the awards luncheon from leaking to the press, but the venue released a statement claiming the near miss was an accident. Here, she hasn't been granted the same privacy. For the safety of the cast and crew, she was legally obliged to disclose the threat, another reason she isn't in good graces with their director.
Glancing across, she makes sure Darren is distracted by reviewing the last take.
Harvey knows not to interrupt when she's filming unless there's an emergency. But if something was going on, he wouldn't be standing on the sidelines, glaring at her co-star.
She wonders if jealousy counts as an emergency.
Meeting him at the edge of the green screen, she keeps her voice hushed. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
His expression says otherwise, but his demeanor has been largely the same since his duties switched to being a live-in security detail. A sane person would probably call his high-strung energy a cause for alarm, but two nights ago he told her that it was his job to worry so she doesn't have to. For inexplicable reasons, or the fact he saved her life, she's beginning to trust him.
When he checks his watch — a tell he has to leave her — she knows what he's going to say. "Let me guess, I need to stay here, not move, and keep out of trouble."
"Think you can handle that?"
She rolls her eyes, which Harvey takes as a yes. "I'll be back in fifteen."
"Alright, people, places!" The director claps. "One more time, and I think we've got it. Donna! Your rent-a-cop is blocking the light."
Harvey growls under his breath at the pompous prick. The first take was goddamn fine, and it shouldn't bother him that Donna's had to redo the passionate scene at least twenty times, but it does.
Forcing down his frustration, he navigates around boom mikes, cameras, and too many people for his general liking as Donna goes back to her mark.
The only positive to the high-budget bustle is the large security team the studio hired. Outside of the film, the company would be his competition, but he's been working in tandem with the firm to make sure no one who shouldn't, can get within ten feet of Donna.
A necessary adjustment, because Jessica is forcing his rotation, claiming he needs to reset after the escalation to Donna's safety.
He doesn't agree, but he meets Scottie outside, anyway. She walks up to him, wearing a big, shit-eating grin.
"Working two extra days, Specter? Don't tell me NYC's least eligible bachelor has finally found his princess."
Not many people can get away with talking to him the way Scottie does, but they have a history, and he knows which buttons to push back. "You and I both know my type, and it's not a princess."
Heat reddens Dana's cheeks. Some of their hookups were sinful; there's no denying it. At one point, she'd even hoped their dalliances would simmer into something more long-term. Fortunately, Harvey hadn't been ready to commit, and now she's happily married to the man she's supposed to be with.
"Your type is an aged bottle."
His two loves are whiskey and work, although she suspects she's here because he needs to vent about the latter.
"How is the princess, anyway? Do I need a short leash?"
The flippancy in her tone niggles at him. Yes, Donna's a handful, but she's handling things better than most run-of-the-mill divas would. "She's not being unreasonable. Don't give her the option of arguing and you'll be fine."
Dana presses a hand to her hip, scrutinizing his clipped response. The last time she took over from him, he was singing a different tune, and if he didn't drag her down here to complain, then she's not sure why she just spent twenty minutes stuck in traffic. "Then I'm here because…?"
"To do a walkthrough. The sets are secure, but the weak spots are the drop-off zone, service areas, and—"
"Donna's trailer. I read your preliminary debrief, Harvey. I know how to do my job."
He clenches his fists in his trouser pockets. For a firm that desperately wanted him as lead on this case, everyone keeps giving him shit about how he's handling it. "Jessica needs this thing airtight."
"Since when do you do anything Jessica wants, if it isn't what you want, too?" She calls out his bullshit but leans away from being insulted, growing curious. Mike warned her Harvey was developing a soft spot for the redheaded actress, and she'd laughed at the kid's wild imagination. Now she's beginning to wonder. "You're starting to care about what happens to her."
"Of course I am. Donna's my client."
"No, you care about doing your job, not the client," Dana pushes. "This is different."
Getting frustrated, Harvey rumbles a growl. "The only difference is this went from a low to high-level threat assessment with no warning. So how about you take this seriously instead of making wisecracks."
Jesus.
"Okay, Harvey. Walk me through everything."
She surrenders to his snappy attitude. Jessica was right; he's wound too tightly, and the best thing for him is a couple of days to clear his head.
Or go out and get laid.
…
After leaving Donna in Scottie's care at the two-story rental, Harvey steers his Porsche south toward the business district.
He agreed to take some time off, but how he spends that time is his own prerogative, and he swings by the firm, meeting Mike in the tech room.
"Did you get everything?"
Mike hands his boss a USB drive. "Ballistics reports, security footage, and all the anti-Donna social media profiles with an IP in New York… Oh, and the other thing you asked for."
Harvey catches the flat bag of microwave popcorn against his chest, scowling at the kid. He asked Mike to download a few of Donna's films for research, not a movie marathon. But instead of snapping, his expression softens. "Thanks, Mike. Appreciate it."
He stops at the door.
"Hey… You working this weekend?"
Mike gulps. "Actually, I've got a—"
"Not anymore you don't."
Harvey grins, leaving the kid sweating his plans.
On his way home, he makes a quick stop, picking up a pizza and some beer, and when he arrives at his condo, he settles in front of the TV. With his socks resting on the coffee table, he balances his laptop on his legs, casting one of Donna's movies to the screen, and he gets to work.
He starts by reviewing the security footage inside the venue, and when nothing suspicious shows up, he moves to the street cameras.
Every morning at 5 a.m., a lorry parks in front of the bakery next door, the delivery blocking the feed, and even though he doesn't have proof, he would bet anything that's when someone broke into the hall and planted the charges.
The problem is, he could be looking for a trained explosives expert… or an eighteen-year-old kid with a high IQ and no friends. With the internet nowadays, he has to stay open-minded.
Pulling up Donna's social media feeds, he begins cross-checking negative comments with the IP addresses Mike gave him. He gets knee-deep into a war between her haters and legions of fans, sipping his beer and curiously clicking a few links, which then leads him down a rabbit hole of distraction.
Unable to help himself, he starts watching interviews where Donna's bright, bubbly smile gives away tidbits of her life in a way he couldn't appreciate while he was working. The engagements are more intimate in the privacy of his home, and he starts seeing a side of her that unwillingly draws him in. All the causes she supports and the work she does when she isn't shooting or promoting her films. He chuckles when she mentions she was once arrested during a protest.
Why doesn't that surprise him?
Eventually, he sets aside the laptop, blinking tiredly at the character she's playing on his TV. Reaching over, he texts Scottie.
[11:46 p.m.] All okay?
He taps his leg, shifting restlessly.
[11:48 p.m.] Rapunzel is sleeping soundly.
Leaning back, he scrubs his face. Maybe Jessica was right, and he does need a break because Donna's not even here, and she's still making his head spin.
…
Wincing in pain, Donna hobbles into her trailer, supported by Dana as the medic sets up his kit. She appreciates the help and genuinely respects the woman who has been staying with her. Dana is firm, like Harvey, but doesn't come with the same smug attitude. Although, she secretly misses teasing him to provoke a reaction.
Sitting down, she blows out a fast breath as the medic lifts her swollen ankle onto a stool. She's mortified by the accident. It was her own fault, tripping over her blocking, and the director was livid they had to halt filming, but she has to be cleared before they can resume.
"Agent Scott, we have a 10-90 approaching your location. Didn't get a good look, over."
Dana grabs her radio. "Copy that, over." A 10-90 is code for a suspicious person of interest, and she draws her gun, flicking off the safety.
Donna grabs her seat in a panic. "What's going on?"
"Both of you, into the back—"
The door nearly rips off its hinges, and Dana aims her weapon, her heart beating wildly as Harvey appears, his face flushed.
"Think about the paperwork before you pull that trigger."
She lowers the gun, glaring at him. "Dammit, Harvey, what the hell are you doing here?"
"I was in the neighborhood."
Bullshit.
Double-checking the safety is on, she sticks the glock back in her waistband. She knows exactly why he's here. Because he saw the incident report she logged on her phone while they were waiting for the medic to arrive.
Sure enough, his gaze flies past her to Donna, and she steps out of the way.
"What happened?"
Catching her breath, Donna is relieved to see him, even if he did scare the life out of her. "I missed my mark on stage. Aside from pissing off the director, I'm fine."
Harvey stops in front of her and the medic feeling around her ankle. He'd been dropping off his dry cleaning when Scottie's alert flashed on his phone, and rather than wait for her report, he wanted to check for himself that the injury really was an accident.
Donna takes in his casual sweater and ruffled hair, teasing him with a curious smirk. "In the neighborhood, huh?"
He ignores her questioning look. "And you're sure nothing was tampered with?"
"I'm sure… Trust me, my pride is bruised worse than my ankle."
"That's not strictly true." The medic interjects, clipping off the bandage and covering the swelling with an ice pack. "It's just a sprain, but I'd recommend staying off your feet for a couple of days. I'll issue a medical certificate for the director and—"
"That won't be necessary." Donna cuts him off. Darren will flip if she isn't back on set soon, and she smiles sweetly at the young health care provider. "But… is there any chance I can get a shot of lidocaine? We're due to wrap up in a couple of hours, then I promise I'll take it easy."
He hesitates, and Harvey rolls his eyes. She should listen to the medic, but he knows to pick and choose his battles. Besides, she's still under Scottie's protection for another night. He isn't the one that will have to put up with her when she's cranky and in pain. "Keep in mind, I'm not carrying you around if you can't walk tomorrow."
She snorts. "What makes you think I'd let you?"
If he decided to, she wouldn't have a say. And maybe he would throw her over his shoulder just to get a rise out of her.
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing."
There's a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaves, taking Dana with him. The door to the trailer closes, and she strains to hear their terse conversation outside but is interrupted by the medic.
"This will numb the effects for about an hour." He taps the side of the needle. "But you should keep off your foot as much as you can."
A tiny sting pricks her skin, the drugs taking effect almost immediately, but the medic doesn't let her get up.
"Stay here. I'll get you some crutches."
Not wanting to seem ungrateful, she hides her frustration. All she has to do is get through the rest of the afternoon.
What else could possibly go wrong?
…
Dana rubs her temples, trying to rewind the budding migraine she's been fighting off since shit hit the fan on the set of Donna's movie. She's never seen so many grown adults argue over something as ridiculous as a shooting schedule which then descended into complete chaos.
Defending the pain Donna was in, the male lead took a swing at the director, leading to a cameraman with a broken nose, an assistant scalded by hot coffee, and an enraged executive producer who stormed off, screaming that the movie was finished.
None of that was her problem until Donna lashed out, firing her on the spot, claiming she didn't need security if there wasn't going to be a film. She saw the relentless stubbornness in Donna that Harvey is always complaining about and very nearly had to use force on the injured woman to make her see reason.
Then came round number two.
Shortly after they arrived back at the rental, Donna's phone blew up with news stories citing that the film was in jeopardy because of the redhead's diva behavior. Dana can vouch that the actress had been the most professional person on set, but when she tried to console the emotional woman, Donna made it abundantly clear she wanted to be left alone.
Which is why she's hiding in the study, hunched over beneath a ceiling light that's souring her mood with an irritating buzz.
When her phone vibrates on the couch next to her, Harvey's name fills her with apprehension. She chastised him for showing up at the studio today, claiming she had everything under control.
With a sigh, she opens his message.
[7:56 p.m.] Pack your bag. Meet me out front in ten minutes.
[7:56 p.m.] Why?
Her foot taps with agitation when he doesn't respond. Christ, between him and Donna, it's no wonder she's so on edge. But, if she got them both fired, so be it. If Jessica has a problem, she can come and try taming the fiery redhead.
Collecting her things, Dana meets Harvey at the doorstep, her duffle slung over her shoulder as she holds open the door. Instead of looking pissed, he's holding takeout, and she eyes the sweaty bag, confused. "What are you doing here?"
He's been asking himself the same goddamn question.
He had a chance to enjoy his last night off, drinking beer and watching Survivor, but when he was switching channels, he caught a story about Donna's diva behavior halting production on Entertainment Tonight.
At some point, he justified to himself that coming over was in his best interests. Donna takes her job seriously, and he's seen how she gets when people assume she's just a Hollywood starlet demanding fame. He figured it was better he show up now rather than let the fallout escalate overnight.
"I'm giving you the night off. Take it or leave it. But if you give me shit about this, I'm out."
Dana doesn't dare look a gift horse in the mouth. If he's stupid enough to take over, that's fine by her. "She's all yours."
She steps around him as he catches the door, and her rush to escape leaves him wondering if it's possible to develop a penchant for masochism this late in life.
Moving through to the living room, he spots Donna curled up on the couch, her eyes red and her ankle twisted awkwardly on a flat cushion.
When she spots him, the hostility he expected is present in her narrow gaze.
"Where's Dana?"
"Family emergency. Listen… Before you throw a tantrum, I have something for you."
Fighting the urge to either scream or cry, Donna hides her face behind her palms. Thanks to some asshole on set, or even the director himself, the whole world thinks she's a bitch, and shitty Thai food isn't going to fucking help. "I'm not hungry."
"Then don't eat." He doesn't pander to her. He knows she'll change her mind as soon as the bag is opened. "Just don't blame me when I destroy you in Call of Duty because your stomach is growling."
She pulls her hands down, glaring at the Xbox in he's holding. "My career could be over and you want to play video games? What is wrong with you?"
"Have you been fired yet?"
"What? No, but—"
"Your director's an asshole, and there are already Twitter campaigns about him that have gone viral."
Harvey moves across to the TV, kneeling down to connect all the plugs. "But if you want to hobble up to your room and keep sulking, go right ahead. Or," he counters, "you eat something, let me take care of that ankle, and you show me what you can do outside a shooting range. Up to you."
Her watery eyes follow him as he stands, going back to his bag and zipping it up.
"I'm going to take my stuff upstairs." He hoists the duffle over his shoulder. "Take a couple of minutes to think about it."
Donna picks up the nearest pillow, throwing it uselessly at his smug exit, but then her stomach growls, gnawing painfully, and the temptation to lean forward and see what food he brought overwhelms her.
Surrendering, she opens the bag, recognizing that he's actually giving her a choice and not an order. Maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing to try and forget about the eyes of the world judging her, and do things Harvey's way. At the very least, gain some traction back by kicking his ass.
Harvey returns to find her amenable to his suggestion. She lets him prop up her ankle and takes her meds without complaint, all signs that unnerve him until he dishes out the food and starts to play Call of Duty.
The passion for her career he saw in the video clips on YouTube translates to unsympathetic bloodshed. At some point, she even kills him with one hand while wrapping her mouth around a spring roll. Although, admittedly, he allowed himself to be distracted, and she deserves her gloating smile for that one.
When he eventually gets the next kill shot, he goes for the last miniature skewer, but he hesitates when he glances across to find her eyes are closed and the buttons are lax in her grip.
They've been gaming for almost an hour, so he isn't surprised that her mind has finally decided that enough is enough. And, being a man with a code of conduct — he would never shoot an unarmed player — he tosses his controller aside.
He's already engaging in a risky game with his attraction to Donna. Because, if he's being honest with himself, he didn't come over tonight to make his job easier tomorrow.
After watching the flash bulletin on ET, he knew Donna would spiral and that she needed someone in her corner. And he didn't hate putting a smile on her face. But, they have to go back to reality at some point, and he leans across, nudging her shoulder. "Come on, bedtime. You know how cranky you get in the mornings."
Donna groggily stirs, reaching for her crutches.
"Bossy," she grumbles, hiding a loose smirk.
A month ago, he wouldn't have cared about lifting her spirits or where she slept, and she isn't sure exactly what's changed, but she likes seeing the man Mike told her existed.
Hopefully, he'll step out from his iron-clad walls a little more often, because she isn't ready to go back home to L.A. yet, and she's starting to think Harvey is becoming part of the reason.