Page 110 of The Temporary Bride

“We have a list of interested directors,” Chloe tells us, fishing out a sheet of paper from amidst the scripts and passing it to the woman on her right. “And, as you can see, a stack of scripts have come through.”

I sift through the stack of scripts, each one a different story. My fingers move over the pages until one catches my eye—a procedural thriller.

I read the synopsis printed on the front of the screenplay. In a sprawling, neon-lit city rife with corruption, one detective stands out for his abilities to solve even the toughest cases. A high-profile disappearance thrusts him into a world of secrets and lies…

The rest of the synopsis blurs before my eyes. Yeah, it’s not likely to win awards for its depth, but it has the kind of punch that screams summer blockbuster.

“I like the look of this one,” I announce, tapping the script’s title page. “It’s our ticket to a box office hit.”

To my surprise, Chloe wrinkles her nose, her arms folded.

“It’s our ticket to the most forgettable film of the summer,” she says. “If we really want to kick this off right, we want to get people talking. Our first film should be bold. Different. We want to challenge expectations, not toe the line.”

I think about her words, weighing them against my preference for a safe, crowd-pleasing blockbuster. “But a thriller? That’s ticket sales. If⁠—”

“We need to push boundaries,” Chloe insists. She tosses one of the scripts across the table, a challenge in her gaze. “Here. That’s my pick.”

Chloe’s choice of script is a drama, entitled Better Days Ahead. The short blurb on the first page bills it as a thought-provoking tale about an actress on Broadway who struggles to reconnect with her disapproving family. It seems moody and contemplative—Oscar-bait, if it’s done well.

I let out a breath. “Are you sure? This seems like a bit of a risk.”

“Risk is good,” she replies. “We need risk, at this point in the game.”

I lean back in my chair, thinking through Chloe’s argument. Her words hit home—she wants something bold, something that will spark conversations and leave a mark. But it goes against my instincts as a businessman to take that gamble.

Chloe seems to pick up on my hesitation. She sits up straighter. “People want substance. Word of mouth works better when there’s something to talk about. Your pick is safe, sure—but it’s boring. It might net us a profit, but it won’t cement our reputation in the industry.”

The room falls silent. Nine pairs of eyes land on me as I fold my hands together, thinking it over. I can tell they’re waiting for my response—expecting me to disagree.

After a long moment, I clear my throat. “Well, you have a stronger eye than I do when it comes to these kinds of things. I’ll trust your judgment on this one.”

Chloe’s eyes widen. I can tell she’s surprised by my decision to back down. Chloe and I have clashed in these meetings before, traces of our old rivalry resurfacing, although softer now in our new circumstances.

I smirk slightly, knowing I’ve thrown her off guard. “Lead the way, Chloe.”

She frowns, then inclines her head. “Okay. Better Days Ahead, it is. Unless anyone else has any objections?”

Everyone is quiet. A few people shake their heads. Chloe reaches a hand out for the script, and I pass it back to her across the table.

“I’ll see you all tomorrow at ten,” I say.

As the meeting wraps up and others begin to filter out, Chloe remains seated. “What was that all about?” she asks, a hint of surprise in her tone.

I meet her gaze, a small smile playing on my lips. “You made better points,” I admit. “You were right.”

Her eyebrows lift slightly. “Well, well, well,” she teases. “Did you finally come to your senses?”

“Don’t think this is going to be a regular occurrence. I’m trusting your vision here because in this instance, you actually know more than I do.”

She smirks, clearly amused. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. I mean, I didn’t even have to trade any sexual favors to get my way.”

I stop in the middle of closing my laptop, my gaze slowly traveling back to my wife. “Wait. I didn’t know sexual favors were on the table.”

“Like I said…” She shrugs, rising to her feet. “I didn’t need them.”

She gathers the folders and scripts in her arms, then starts toward the door, but I take two long strides to catch up with her.

“Hold on a second, dimples.”