He backs away slowly. “Whatever dude, she’s not worth it. I don’t like broke strays. You guys are perfect for each other.” He gives Libby a dirty look, turns around, and disappears up the stairs.
Libby runs a hand through her hair, and I notice a flush creep across her cheeks when she looks at me.
“I’m about to leave,” I tell her. “You need a ride home?”
I want to ask her about the guy, how she knows him, and how the fuck she got involved with a jackass like him.
She gives me a questioning look. “You were about to leave or being nosy?”
“Both.” She doesn’t say anything. “My driver is about to pull up. You can come or not. It’s your choice.”
6
Libby
“So Libby Graves, how is it that everyone knows who you are but me?” Knox asks, as soon as he slides across the backseat of the SUV after me.
The aroma of vodka and peppermint drifts through the air. He makes himself comfortable, resting his back against the door, and we leave as soon as his driver gets back into the vehicle.
It’s dark, and the windows are tinted, so the only time I can make him out is when we pass a bright streetlight, but I can feel his eyes on me. I sense him studying me, waiting patiently for my answer.
“Not everyone knows who I am,” I reply, shifting around in my seat.
I didn’t plan on this job playing out like this. I expected him to be the rich asshole that’d let me do my work without asking any personal questions or playing the whole get to know each other game.
“That’s sure what it looked like. Tonight wasn’t the first time you’ve been to Emeralds, and you seemed to be comfortable with everyone in your little VIP area.”
“Were you spying on me?”
“No, I saw you on my way to the bathroom and decided I was interested in you. Consider it employee screening.”
“You can easily screen me through Google if you’re so interested.” That’s what everyone does these days, anyway, search for what they want to know and instantly believe that whatever comes up is true. If it’s on the internet, it’s apparently a fact.
“Trust me sunshine, I’m the last person who uses the internet as a credible source.”
“It’s complicated.”
“I know complicated very well.”
What does he want from me? To sit here and confess my life story? “I was only there because it was my roommate’s boyfriend’s birthday party. She begged me to come with her.”
I should’ve said no. Josh’s dad co-owns the club, so he thinks he controls the place. He’s been constantly texting me – asking to go out and offering to be a shoulder to cry on since the news about my dad broke out. I’ve ignored every single one.
“Huh.” I tense up, waiting for the next question of his interrogation. “My driver needs your address.” I relax and give it to him before pulling out my phone to text Mia, letting her know I’ll meet her back at the condo.
“Was he your ex?”
So much for him letting it go.
“No,” I answer. My breath catches when he reaches up and turns on the overhead light. His deep-set eyes meet mine, urging me to keep going. Why do I feel like I owe him answers? “I wouldn’t consider him an ex. We had a thing, a temporary one, in high school. He was a rebound after a bad breakup. Josh thought it was more serious than I did.”
“I never did see you as a tease.”
“I’m not a tease. The only reason Josh keeps pursuing me is because I don’t fall at his feet for his money.”
“You mean his daddy’s money?”
I nod, and his words feel like a sucker punch straight to the gut. Is that how people looked at me? Like I was some spoiled brat who lived off daddy’s money and didn’t work for anything on her own? Yes, my dad paid all of my expenses, but we made a deal that I had to keep my grades up and was on my own after graduation.
“It’s this neighborhood right here,” I tell the driver, pointing to the gate. I give him the entrance code, and a sense of relief hits me when we pull in front of the condo.
“This is a nice place,” Knox says, looking out the window.
“It’s my best friend’s. She’s letting me stay with her until I save up enough money for my own.”
“Nice friend.”
“I’ll see you in the morning. Eight o’clock sharp.”
“Eight o’clock sharp,” he repeats, a smile tilting at his lips. “Damn, I hate early mornings. Goodnight, mystery Libby.”
“Goodnight,” I reply, softly.
I stop the driver from getting out and open up the door. I don’t look back on my way to the front porch, even though it’s killing me, and rest against the door after slamming it shut.
I never thought I’d run into Knox outside of work.
Why is he being so nice to me?
And why do I like it?
7
Knox
Stella: What the hell, Knox? You ditched me and left with another girl?
I toss my phone back onto the nightstand after reading her text. She sent it at three this morning, which means she was probably wasted off her ass, feeling jealous, or wanting to fuck.
Or all of the above.
She has plenty of guys to do the job for her, so why is she suddenly all over my dick? Before last night, I hadn’t seen her in months. Sure, she texted me a few times after my arrest, but we weren’t necessarily on speaking terms. Nor do I want to be. She did a long ass interview with some magazine and told them she was done talking about me, wanted to move on with her life and be happy.
That’s what I’m letting her do.
I grab my phone again at the sound of another text.
Nate: Dude, is there something you want to tell me?
There’s a link to a web page attached to his text. A photo of me leaving the club with a blonde woman pops up when I click on it. I squint, looking at it closely.
It’s Libby.
Fuck.
This isn’t good.
The person that’s supposed to cover up shit like this is the one that’s involved. I wonder if she’s seen the picture, and if she has, does she have a statement ready?
I hop out of bed, shower, and pull on a pair of workout shorts and a t-shirt before heading downstairs. I look at the clock when I make it into the kitchen. Seven fifty in the morning. I don’t remember the last time I was up this early, but Libby threatened to soak my ass in cold water if I wasn’t up when she got here. I make myself a drink, snag a banana, and start to peel it when my phone rings.
“Hello sunshine,” I answer.
“Hey,” Libby says on the other line. Her voice is sweet, almost angelic-like this morning – definitely better than her snippy ass attitude yesterday. “I’m outside. Can you let me in?”
“On my way.”
I jump off my stool and meet her at the front door. She’s in another one of her maxi dresses – this one tighter than yesterday’s, but not as revealing as what she was wearing at the club last night. Her honey blonde hair with hints of pink is hanging down in loose curls, pink gloss covers her lips and nearly a dozen bracelets dangle from her wrist. In one hand is a planner. In the other is a clear cup filled with a green drink.
“Remind me to get you a key made,” I say, moving aside to let her in.
She walks towards the kitchen. “I’ll make a note of it.”
“Just don’t start sniffing my boxers or go hiding in my closet to get a peek at my goods.”
“Trust me, that won’t be happening. Your goods are safe around me.”
I plop back down on my stool and take a long swig of my drink as I watch her stand in the doorway. Her arms are folded across her breasts, the cup and planner dangling from each hand, and she looks uncomfortable as hell.
I nod towards her cup. “What’cha drinking?” I ask, in an attempt to break the silence.
She looks down at it. “A spinach and kale smoothie.”
I curl my upper lip before ho
lding up my stainless steel bottle. “My trainer makes me drink that shit sometimes, but I can guarantee you it’s not as delicious as what I have.”
“And what exactly do you have?”
I give her a careless shrug. “Just some whiskey and coke.”
“You’re kidding, right?” I shake my head in response. “Throw it away,” she demands, her voice turning harsh. “You have a shoot today, and I’m not dealing with any drunken bullshit.”
“No can do, sunshine. I’m not wasting good whiskey.”
She scoffs. “I’m sure you have the money to replace it.”
“I’m not dumping it out.”
She throws her planner down on the counter and sets her drink next to it before stomping my way. She stops in front of me, a snarl on her upper lip. “Oh, yes you are.” She holds her hand out like I’m a child who has something he shouldn’t.
“How about this, you drink the rest of it for me.”
“I’m not drinking whiskey for breakfast. I don’t drink whiskey … ever.”
I hold back my laughter and press the lid of the cup to my lips, testing her. It’s working. Perfect. “Either you drink it or I chug this thing right now and show up drunk at my shoot.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
She snatches the drink out of my hand. “I haven’t had this much peer pressure since high school.” She plugs her nose before taking a gulp. I wait for it, watching her face as it dawns on her. “You’re an asshole.” She shoves the bottle into my chest, and I catch it before it falls in my lap.
I give her my best innocent look. “What?”
“It’s chocolate milk.”
I can’t hold back my grin any longer. “Nesquik, to be exact.”
“What are you, twelve?”
“Chocolate milk is the drink of real men.” I lean back in my chair and take another drink while she gives me a dirty look. “So what’s on the agenda today, boss?”
She takes a few steps back and rests her elbows on the island. “You have to stop by the office and okay a few tour ads, and then we’re going straight to the shoot, so make sure you have everything you need now because we’re not going to have time to come back.”
Damn, this chick sounds like my mother, only she does a better job than her.
8
Libby
“Where in the fuck is the model?” Thomas yells, barging into the room, his eyes focused on his watch. “Has anyone seen the goddamn model? We’re scheduled to start in thirty minutes.”
His attention goes from his wrist to me, like I have the answer to his missing model problem.
I shrug and point to the open door leading to another room. “Don’t ask me,” I answer. “I’m already in charge of one drama queen, and he’s in that room getting spray tanned … oiled up … glittered … something along those lines.”
“Screw you, Libby,” Knox yells from the room. “I’m getting dressed, not fucking glittered.” He lets out a chuckle. “If you don’t believe me, you’re more than welcome to come see for yourself.”
I swear I’m seriously working for one of the biggest man-whores in the industry.
Thomas starts nervously pacing in front of me. He’s a control freak who expects everything to always go according to plan. He’s the best in the business and is business all the time, Monday through Sunday, twenty-four-seven. It’s like hitting gold getting him to crack a smile. He’s not married, has no children, even though he’s drifting into his late fifties. His receding hairline and stray grays tell me his job takes a toll on him. He’s the one who discovered The Grave Diggers and worked his ass off to get them signed to a label. Then he went on to give other people, like Knox, the ticket to fame.
I open my mouth, ready to volunteer to hunt down this MIA model, but the sound of Thomas’ phone ringing stops me.
“Tell me you found her,” he barks into the speaker. Sweat starts to form at the base of his forehead. “You’ve got to be kidding me? Yeah … fine … I’ll figure it out, as usual.” He ends the call and tosses the phone on the table in front of me, curse words flying from his lips.
I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth, my nervous habit, and wait for him to tell me what’s next. “So … no model?” I finally ask.
“No model. Apparently, she can’t make it in today. She cancelled because she has some audition for a movie role that’s a better opportunity.”
“Should we reschedule for tomorrow?”
He scrubs his hands over his face. “Everything is already a go for today. The director is the best of the best and did this as a favor to me. He’s leaving the country tomorrow and won’t be back for another week.” He stops his pacing and looks straight at me.
Shit. Stare-downs are never a good thing.
I bring myself up from the couch, fully ready to scurry off and find some bullshit errand to run. He stops me before I get the chance.
“Libby will be filling in for the model today,” he calls out.
I freeze.
What the?
Knox dips his head out the doorway and looks at me, a grin on his face. “Sorry Thomas, but I don’t think Libby is going to want to do that considering what happens in this video.”
He’s absolutely right.
“We’ll cut down the sex a bit and make it work,” Thomas argues. “That way, today won’t be a total waste, and we won’t have to wait another week to get the video done. We need everything released on schedule.”
I shake my head violently. “Uh no, Libby isn’t going to fill in,” I fire back. “I’m an assistant, not some video vixen.”
I read what this video consists of.
It’s sex. All sex.
Correction: it’s supposed to look like sex.
And there’s no way in hell I’m fake-fucking my boss.
“Exactly, you’re an assistant,” Thomas argues, grabbing his phone from the table. His mood has changed from pissed off to chipper now that he’s decided to ruin my life. “And your assistance is needed today.” He gives me a reassuring look. “Don’t worry. I can see the look on your face. You think we’re shooting porn, but that’s way off. Everything will be PG and tastefully done.”
“Don’t you have a back-up?” I ask, my voice almost pleading. I’m reaching for anything to prevent me from doing this. Hell, I’ll even go pick up some random girl off the street. “Surely there wasn’t only one woman who auditioned for this part.” There was probably a line out the door for women who wanted to be his love interest.
“It’ll take hours to call in a replacement. You’re here now.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “You’ll be getting paid for this. Five grand.” He grins, like that should immediately change my mind. “Not too shabby, huh? Hair and makeup will be in to get you in a few minutes.”
He walks out of the room without waiting for a response from me.
Thomas isn’t dumb. He knew to throw in the fact that I’ll be getting paid a decent chunk of change.
Knox walks into the room – not glittered up or looking much different than when we left this morning. The only difference is he’s now wearing a white t-shirt and dark jeans. It seems to be his signature look. It’s basic yet sexy. I also know all of those articles of clothing don’t stay on throughout the entire video.
“Oh come on,” he says, giving me a mischievous smile. “It won’t kill you to act like you’re attracted to me for five minutes.”
“Sorry to burst your ego, homeboy, but yes it will. Not every girl wants to have sex with you,” I argue.
He rests against the wall and crosses his arms. “So are you one of those girls?” I nervously nod while he pushes himself forward to come my way, getting so close I can feel his breath against mine. Is he trying to get me worked up so I say yes? “You’re telling me if I asked you right now, no strings attached, to fuck, you’d turn around and walk away?”
My chest tightens as he stares down at me and grins. He’s fully aware of the reaction he�
�s pulling out of me.
I stumble back, hitting the arm of the couch. Shit. He crowds in closer.
“Damn straight,” I say, trying to keep my voice straight. “I’d actually kick you in the balls and then turn around and walk away.”
He puts his hands up and retreats backward. “Okay then. Let the games begin.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I shout.
He shrugs and disappears from the room.
Jackass.
9
Knox
I walk away from Libby with a satisfied grin on my face.
Excitement ran up my spine at her reaction when I asked what she’d do if I tried to fuck her. I didn’t miss the way her breathing changed or how her eyes suddenly refused to meet mine.
Libby is fighting her attraction to me. She may not like me personally, but that doesn’t mean she repulses my sex appeal or looks.
I’m not saying she’s ready to straddle my dick and ride it into the sunset, but there’s some internal conflict within herself, and I want to make her question it even more.
Which is a bad fucking idea on my part.
Thomas has told me since day one not to fuck the people who work for you. Venturing into that territory never ends well.
Period.
And I’ve done a good job of sticking with it.
Libby is a good assistant so far, and I’d hate to lose her.
The crew is almost finished setting up the scenes for the shoot. I’m co-producing the video and have spent over a month planning out every single detail with my team. Thomas and the director, Mike, are immersed in conversation, most likely trying to figure out how to shift shit around so Libby feels more comfortable, yet not change the entire concept of the video at the same time.
Thomas looks at me worriedly when I reach them. “Please tell me you didn’t say something to piss her off?”
“Really?” I question, giving him a dirty look.
“She’s a good girl, Knox.” His face goes soft. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him show an ounce of emotion.
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