The Director's Cut Js Taylor (e reader comics .txt) 📖

“But you must have been only a teenager yourself,” I say, doing the mental calculations. Ben is only a few years younger than James.

James nods. “Even so. From what I heard, Ben’s brother gradually deteriorated. Ben blames the fact that he was never welcomed into the family. Partly, he blames me.”

“But that makes no sense!” I insist, outrage rising up. “Ben has no right to blame you. Your father and his mother divorced. In the end, there was never a family to welcome him into. Who’s to say meeting with you wouldn’t have made him worse, when the marriage broke up?”

James sighs. He looks tired.

“I’ve more or less made my peace with it,” he says. “But I do understand why Ben doesn’t like me. It might not be totally rational, but I wanted you to know that I am at least half to blame for how he feels about me.”

“Wait,” I say, trying to get my head around it all. “Just because you think Ben has a good reason not to like you doesn’t mean he isn’t leaking information. From what you just told me, he has a pretty good motive.”

“Ah yes,” James gives me an indulgent smile. “There is a little more to that side of the story. But I’m afraid you’ll be frustrated. Since I can’t give you all the details.”

“Why not?” I press.

“I’ve already told you why. Do you remember, we had a conversation about Camilla and Ben?” asks James.

I search my memory. I questioned James about what had happened between them. He told me he would leave it to Camilla to fill me in if she wanted to.

But I never got around to asking her properly. Camilla left the set before I could quiz her. And with all the drama around the stalker, it all went out of my mind. Until Lorna mentioned Ben today.

Some friend I am. I mentally chastise myself. I was so bound up with James, I’d stopped paying attention to my friends’ love lives.

“I remember,” I say hesitantly. “You said you weren’t prepared to tell me what happened.”

My eyes sweep his face. Will he tell me now?

“I haven’t changed my mind,” says James. “It would be disrespectful of me to tell Camilla’s story, on her behalf. If she wants to tell you, she will.”

I can’t deny I’m a little frustrated by this. But I respect him too, for keeping Camilla’s secret so diligently.

“What I will say,” James continues, “is that what happened with Ben and Camilla is the main reason why I don’t suspect Ben of leaking to the press.”

My mind is instantly fired with a thousand questions, but I can see from James’s face that I shouldn’t ask.

“Just take my word for it,” says James. “Ben owes me.”

What could the reason be? I can’t help but be intrigued.

“You’re absolutely sure?” I say, staring into his eyes. It had all fit so neatly. I’m not quite prepared to give up my explanation so readily.

James considers for a long moment.

“Yes,” he says finally. “As sure as I’ll ever be. You need to trust me,” he adds. “I’m dealing with this.”

I nod slowly. I do trust him.

He kisses my forehead.

“I’d never risk your reputation,” he says. “I’ve got my best people on the case, and we’re doing what we can. We’ll close off the leak soon.”

His words are reassuring. I give him a little smile.

“But I think you might have put yourself in some danger coming here,” he adds. His voice has a different cadence to it now.

My stomach tightens. What have I done?

“Should I not have come to your room?” I whisper.

James is shaking his head.

“Hammering on my hotel room door, in full public view, is not very smart.”

“No one saw me,” I say quietly.

“You cannot risk that,” he says, and I flinch at his tone.

“I’ll remember that in future,” I say. “Don’t be angry at me.”

James is shaking his head again.

“I am angry at you, for putting yourself at risk,” he says. The smallest ghost of a smile is now evident on his face. “And then, there’s the little matter of a bet you lost earlier today.”

I feel myself blanch. The bet.

I promised he could do whatever he liked with me.

“And now, here you are,” says James. “You’ve thrown yourself right into the lion’s den. And you’ve made me angry with you as well. Whatever do you think your punishment will be?”

James reaches to either side of me and pins both of my hands tight to the bed.

“I take it you remember losing the bet?” he says.

I nod, feeling my hands pinioned by the weight of him.

“Don’t try to get away,” he murmurs as I wriggle against the grip. “So,” he adds, “how do you think I should punish you?”

“I don’t know,” I say weakly.

A mysterious expression slides onto his face, as though he’s calculating something. And I am struck, suddenly, with our earlier conversation.

James offered me so much by choosing to open up in rehearsal. And I never thanked him. I was too busy thinking about myself and my own past.

How selfish of me, when he was giving me such a gift.

I don’t know how these thoughts are playing on my face. But something in James’s expression shifts, from assessing to certainty.

He releases my hands suddenly. And I feel as though I have agreed to some unspoken pact.

“There will be no ropes and no restraints, Isabella,” he says, his voice thick and dark. “You’ve agreed to your punishment when you lost the bet. So I expect you to lie perfectly still whilst I administer it.”

I feel my eyes widen in shock. What does he mean to do? My mouth is dry.

“You will be unbound whilst I discipline you,” he continues, “as proof of your perfect submission.”

My perfect submission. Is that what he wants?

“What is it you mean to do to me?” The words come out with difficulty.

For a moment, I think he will refuse to tell me. Then he stands slowly.

“Wait there,” he