Hard Dive (Paradise Lost Book 2)

by Megyn Ward

  I can’t help myself and stretch my arm to drape it around Kylie’s shoulders and draw her to me.

  She pulls away again, her gaze sliding away me while she swallows and blinks, as if summoning power. When she speaks, her voice is strong. “Thank you for the ride. We’ll be fine now that Blake is here.”

  I feel my entire body go stiff. My chest tighten. My fists clench. Hadn’t we been together, naked in her bed, only hours ago? I promised to figure this thing out with Jonas. That we’ll be together permanently. She seemed to want that as much as I do. But now it’s like she barely knows me.

  Doesn’t want to know me.

  “I’ll stay. Is there a cafeteria or vending machines around? Do you want something to eat or drink?”

  She slips an arm through Blake’s and tucks into his side and I want to wrench her away. He looks surprised but stands firm with her. It should be me holding her. Me she’s leaning on.

  “You hardly even know Diana,” she says, sounding harsh. “You don’t belong here. You should go.” She shifts her attention to the floor.

  What’s going on? She clung to me minutes ago. “Okay—if that’s what you want.”

  “It is.” She says it, but it doesn’t sound like she means it.

  Blake watches us. He doesn’t know about what happened this afternoon. Doesn’t know that things have changed between us. There’s obviously something happening here—something bad—but Kylie is the only one who knows what it is.

  Fuck that.

  I walked away from her once.

  I’m not doing it again.

  I lean closer. “Kylie, look at me.”

  She hesitates and when she lifts her eyes to mine, they look bleak.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Diana was beaten up and I don’t know how bad of shape she’s in. It’s not all about you.” Her tone heats and twists, her gaze narrowing on my face. “But you wouldn’t know that, would you? Because for you, Zach is all that matters.”

  My gut heaves and roils and I have to fight the urge to double over, like she kicked me in it. “I’m here for you. I want to help.”

  “You can’t.” Her pallor slips and sadness haunts her eyes. “Drive back to your fancy condo on Seven Mile Beach. You don’t belong here. You’re never going to belong here.”

  I glance at Blake, hoping he can help me, or even make some sense of it.

  He studies Kylie for a second, then extricates his arm from hers. He clasps my shoulder and tugs me away from her, toward the door.

  “Dude,” Blake says. “You’re making it worse. Let’s go.”

  “Don’t fucking touch me—dude.” I jerk my shoulder out from under his hand. I’m over-reacting. Making things worse—I know that, but I can’t just let it go.

  Let her go.

  Not after this afternoon.

  Because he really a good guy, Blake doesn’t take the bait. He just drops his hand and looks at me while he struggles to keep himself in check.

  “Look, I don’t really know you. You seem okay—more or less—but you’ve obviously got some shit going on, big Liesa’s Life-sized baggage.” When I don’t respond he continues. “Kylie’s been through a lot. I don’t think she’s over losing her mother and she lost a job she loved. She doesn’t know what she wants in her life. If you care about her, you’ll do what she’s asking you to do and leave her alone.”

  Even though it kills me to admit it, Blake knows her better than I do. I consider Blake. Calm and friendly, like the old black lab we had when I was a kid. He allowed us to crawl all over him, followed us around to keep us from harm, and only when we were really out of line, did he growl.

  Blake is growling now.

  On the other side of the glass, Kylie sinks to a hard, plastic chair next to an elderly black woman with a colorful scarf wrapped around her head. Kylie leans forward with her elbows on her knees and buries her face in her hands. “Go back to her,” I say to Blake. “She shouldn’t be alone.”

  Blake bobs his head before turning on his heel, making his way back into the waiting room. He takes the seat next to her and puts an arm around her, bending low and saying something. Whatever he says, pulls a smile out of her. It’s short and watery. Crumbles away before it can take root, but it was there. She smiled at him.

  I slump back to my car.

  Nineteen

  Zach

  I arrive at JK Investments with the usual irritation. Jonas had called the condo too early. Last night had been the typical one for me. After our make-up scene, I’d spent the next evenings escorting Liesa from one party to another, catering to her manufactured moods. We’d made out for the camera. I’d tried and failed to get her into bed. She’d burst into tears, asked me to be patient. I’d promised her I would.

  Blah, blah, blah.

  Nightmare Groundhog Day.

  Before Jonas’s call ruined my day, I’d been dreaming, one of those vivid storylines that are so real they could be happening. It was about Kylie and I never wanted to end but it vanishes in a split second. His ringtone, the Imperial March from Star Wars, takes the place of Kylie’s sighs and my groans of pleasure.

  When I punch it on and hold it to my face, it takes two tries to make my voice work. “Jonas.”

  “Hey, Sport. Get your duds on and get over here.” He sounds serious.

  “Why?” I push the question through my teeth. Since finding out that Knightly is Kylie’s father I’ve developed a distinct lack of tolerance for his usual good ‘ol boy routine.

  “Ratings came in this morning and the score is not good. We need to rattle the cage and I need you on the team.” Jesus. He sounds almost happy about it. Which immediately makes me wonder what he’s got cooking. “We’ll talk more when you get here.”

  “Whatever.” I hang up and drop my phone on the floor, willing myself to get out of bed instead of rolling back over and closing my eyes.

  For Kylie.

  That’s the thought that finally pushes me out of bed and into the bathroom.

  For Kylie.

  Even if she hates me.

  Even if it’s over between us—and it is over.

  Kylie’s made that clear. She doesn’t want to see me again. I’ve called her practically nonstop since she threw me out of the hospital. Left enough voicemails to qualify for the Stalker Hall of Fame. The last time I called, the electronic voice on the other end of the line informed me that her mailbox is full.

  She’s not even listening to my messages.

  Isn’t even bothering to delete them.

  So, it’s over.

  It has to be.

  Because the only way out is through. I’m going to get Liesa into my bed on national television and be the most famous boyfriend in the world. Even if I had a goat fuck’s chance in hell of making it work, she’ll take one look at the projected season finale and see me for the money-grubbing shit I really am.

  I grab a shirt from the closet that I’ve never seen before. Guess Mom was out shopping again. New cargo shorts fill a drawer and I pick out a khaki pair. It makes me feel like a kid, but I let her do it because I hate to shop and it makes her feel useful. I make a mental note to tell her how much I appreciate her.

  The Interchangeable Receptionists man their stations. The look like robots, with their perfectly passive personalities and flawless bodies, immaculate makeup and hair, never wavering in their black or white stilettos. I stop a second to admire the ocean view from the wall of windows in the lobby. The sea breeze ruffles palms and the water sparkles blue heading out the horizon. Kylie would love the way it looks, so calm and inviting. She’d probably imagine the whole world going on beneath the surface. I picture her eyes lighting up and the smile playing across her lips.

  The upstairs bot waves me down the hall into Jonas’s office. God, I have to get thoughts of Kylie under control.

  I open the door of Jonas’s paneled office to a crowded room. Jonas sits behind his desk, leaned back in his customary casual posture. Jeri and Tom lounge on
the leather sofa, both have their giant travel mugs to their lips, no doubt starting in on their first gallon of caffeine for the day. Wearing a colorful peach and black hibiscus print sundress, Liesa dangles a flip-flop from her crossed leg, bouncing it up and down with irritation or impatience. I’m sure to find out which very soon.

  A well-coiffed woman sits next to Liesa. She wears a white linen suit, the skirt hiked up her thigh, the cami under her jacket plunging far enough to show tits way perkier than her age should allow. Although, if I hadn’t known her approximate age, I’d never guess it. Judicious plastic surgery and body sculpting create a special magic. She twists her long neck my way to deliver an irritated frown in my direction.

  Jonas waves at me. “There’s our boy.”

  “Nice of you to join us,” the woman assesses me with a slow scan from head to flip-flops.

  This must be Simone.

  Jonas indicates the woman, as totally robot-worthy in appearance as the Interchangeable Receptionists. “Simone, this is Zach Lowery. Zach, this is Simone, your future mother-in-law, if all goes well.”

  Then let’s pray for disaster.

  This is a meeting I’ve been dreading since I was indentured to this goddamned circus. “Simone. Glad to meet you in real life.” I think I’m getting good at lying.

  Liesa folds her arms and stares straight ahead.

  Simone barely acknowledges me. “Let’s get to business,” she grumbles.

  I take an empty chair next to Liesa, obviously left for me. I’d like to talk to her about the hospital or Kylie, or, I don’t know, figure out a plan. “Morning, Liesa.”

  Liesa’s jaw twitches but she shows no other sign of hearing me. Jeri watches everything, her mind turning behind her calculating eyes.

  Jonas raises an amused eyebrow and I can only guess what he’s thinking about our relationship.

  The frost on Simone melts a little and she quits frowning. “One thing you’ll learn about me, Zachary, is that I appreciate promptness and professionalism.”

  First of all, I hate being called Zachary. Secondly, this bitch is not someone I care about pleasing. “I’ll try not to disappoint you.”

  Jonas claps his hands and leans forward. “Okay, let’s get down to business.”

  Liesa still hasn’t looked at me and aside from that bouncing flip-flop, hasn’t moved at all.

  Simone licks her lips and addresses me. “We brought you on board to increase ratings. You’re supposedly Liesa’s boyfriend, but I’m not seeing any real chemistry going on.”

  Again, Liesa’s jaw twitches.

  Jonas takes over. “Not only have ratings not gone up, they’re actually down.”

  Of course, ratings are down. We’ve been dragging this will they or won’t they storyline along for months now. People are bored shitless. I should probably point that out, but I don’t because I have zero interest in rushing it along.

  Maybe they’re going to fire me.

  I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not.

  As if he’s reading my mind, Jonas gives me a sly grin. “Your contract stipulates that if you’re fired for cause, in this case, the ratings not increasing as outlined in the contract, you don’t get paid or get your trust fund.”

  Simone’s voice sounds petulant and demanding, exactly like her TV personality. “I don’t give a flying fuck about your contract. I do, however, have a vested interest in the success of Liesa’s Life. So, what do you intend to do about the ratings?”

  Murder. Millions would tune in to see Simone strangled.

  Jonas’s wolf smile encompasses the whole room. “That’s why we’re here. Everyone in this room needs to understand how important it is to improve our ratings. Obviously, for Liesa and Simone, keeping the show in the top ten is vital. For me, it represents 30% of JK’s investment portfolio. The rest of you, Zach, Tom, and Jeri, make no mistake, it matters. Because if they don’t increase by 15% in the next month, you will all be fired. For Zach, that means loss of a fortune apportioned to him by three generations of Lowerys. For Tom and Jeri, it means me blackballing you from ever working in television again.”

  The room falls silent. Except for the pop, pop, pop of Liesa’s flip-flop.

  Jonas slaps his palm on the smooth desktop. “Brainstorm, team. What have you got?”

  Jeri leans forward. “As I see it, the problem is Zach.”

  Tom nods. “Yep. Zach.”

  Jonas focuses on me. “What have you got to say to that?”

  “Me? I’m doing what you asked me to do.”

  Simone leans forward to see me clearly around Liesa’s rigid form. “No, dear. You clearly are not. As Liesa’s first real boyfriend, you’re supposed to build the heat and sexual tension.”

  Liesa closes her eyes for a split second as if absorbing a blow.

  I need—in Jonas’s terms—to get the big D going. “We’re building the tension.”

  Jonas taps the desk with his index finger as if keeping time. “You’re putting viewers to sleep.”

  Liesa’s flip-flop keeps a beat in opposition to Jonas’s finger. She still doesn’t speak.

  So much for being on the same team. She seems fine with letting the lions eat me. “I thought the point was to show us falling for each other. Start out sweet then add the heat.”

  Jeri decides to throw a barb at me again. “What I’m seeing on the dailies is you being bored. You seem to be dragging along in a half-drunk state and couldn’t get it up even if Liesa gave you the go-ahead.”

  Liesa’s shoulders stiffen.

  Damn it. My shirt feels damp and I fight the urge to wipe sweat from under my nose. “I thought you wanted the big event to happen at the end of the season? That’s still a couple of weeks away.”

  Simone stands and props her—way too tight for a middle-aged—ass against Jonas’s desk. “Let’s quit pussy-footing around here. We might have thought our viewers would be drawn in with a romance and old-fashioned courting. But we were wrong. They want drama and fucking.”

  Liesa’s eyes squeeze closed and stay that way.

  Jonas lifts amused eyebrows to Simone. “Not to put too fine a point on it.”

  Liesa isn’t always my favorite person, but this sucks for her. “Hey, we’re not cattle at auction. We’re real people with real lives. Not porn stars to perform on demand.”

  Simone gives me a deadpan glance, then ignores me to focus on Liesa. “You did explain to him how this works, right? The term for what we are creating might be reality TV but there’s very little real about any of it.”

  Liesa stares ahead, her eyes focus on something beyond Jonas’s head.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Simone says and lurches from the desk corner. “What the hell is wrong with you two? You’re young and gorgeous. It’s only natural you’d be panting all over each other.” She points a finger at me. “Are you gay?”

  “No.” I give her a bland smile.

  “Look at him.” She turns her fire on Liesa. He’s hot. “You should be all over him.”

  Liesa finally speaks, her voice low and dangerous. “Mother, please.”

  “Please what?” Simone paces behind Jonas. “Jonas and I have created this empire and I’m not going to stand idle and watch you piss it away because you think you’re tired of the fame and you’re fatigued by the shooting schedule. When I was your age, I was working three—”

  “Jobs!” Liesa jumps out of her chair. “Yes. I know. And you gave up everything for me. You didn’t sleep for six years so you could work and save and pay for acting lessons. It’s my turn now to pay you back for the sacrifices you made to give me the good life.”

  Simone’s face contorts to a mask of rage. “You ungrateful little bitch.” She whips her arm out to encompass the office and probably the whole world. “Look at all of this. It’s because of me thinking ahead, pushing you. Your life is better than mine in every way. And I provided it for you.”

  Liesa retreats behind the sofa where Tom and Jeri sit sipping their coffee. Th
ey don’t look nearly as horrified as I feel at this explosion.

  “You provided it for me.” Liesa’s voice rises. “Yes, thank you, Mother. Because of your far-thinking and planning, I now work every single day, one job, sure, but twenty-four hours.”

  Simone lifts her lip in scorn. “You poor baby. Having to work in a luxury home on the ocean and get laid by someone who looks like that.” She points at me like I’m a piece of meat and I have to grip the armrest of my chair to keep myself from lunging out of my seat.

  Liesa folds her arms. “And I have you to thank that no matter how much we keep working, our debt keeps growing. How much did that new bag set us back, Mother?”

  Simone narrows her eyes. “Not nearly enough to pay me back for having to deal with you.”

  Jonas stands behind his desk. “Okay. That’s enough. Save it for the show. We’re here to brainstorm ideas to kick-start this yawn of a show.”

  Jeri sets her coffee on the table in front of her. “Zach moves into the house.”

  The room goes silent, not even Liesa’s flip-flops tapping.

  When she has everyone’s attention, she continues. “And we add a storyline with Simone, get some friction going between her and Zach. There’s chemistry there.”

  I can’t stay quiet for that bullshit. “No. There’s no chemistry with Simone and me and I don’t see where me moving into Liesa’s house will even be logical.”

  That crafty grin spreads across Jonas’s face and he starts to nod. “I’m seeing this work.”

  Simone looks at me like a dog eyes a bone. “We haven’t worked the jealousy angle yet.”

  Liesa stares at both of them with her jaw dropped open. “You. Cannot. Be serious.”

  Jeri claps with enthusiasm. “We can have Liesa and Simone trying to out-flirt each other.”

  Fuck me.

  I get to my feet to join the rest. “Don’t I get a say in this?”

  In solidarity I’ve never seen them show, Liesa, Jonas, and Simone all turn to me. “No.”