Beauty Claimed
Subscribe, Live, Love Book 3
Allyson Lindt
This book is a work of fiction.
While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2018 by Allyson Lindt
All Rights Reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
Manufactured in the United States of America
Acelette Press
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Beauty Claimed (Subscribe, Live, Love, #3)
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Also By Allyson Lindt
About the Author
For my eternal dragon
CHAPTER ONE
WHEN THIS COMPETITION started, Tara expected the waiting to get easier. Four months in, and she still hadn’t mastered finding her Zen before each elimination round.
She paced the main room of her tattoo parlor, watching the Announcement Coming Soon counter on the Rinslet Media website, as though it might magically skip ahead ten minutes and grant her answers, as a reward for her impatience.
“Bella, sit.” Thank God for Nathan’s ability to remain calm through this. He grabbed her wrist and tugged her into his lap. His mussed light brown hair, and dark brown eyes made him a favorite sight.
And this was usually one of her favorite places to sit. She tried to focus on the warm glow in her chest that came from snuggling up to her boyfriend.
Her tension refused to be shoved aside so easily tonight. Until they heard whether they'd made it to the next round, she’d have to accept the gnawing of the unknown in her gut.
Thirteen YouTube channels, including theirs, had been selected to compete for a sponsorship contract from one of the biggest media and game companies in the world. The premise was simple. The participants were established video bloggers who knew how to be themselves, and talk to the audience the same way they always did.
The rules and grand prize made things more complicated, which meant more stress. They had to stick to an advertiser friendly format. Which meant minimal swearing, not showing too much skin, and steering away from algorithm-triggering words.
The ultimate goal? A million-dollar prize, attached to Rinslet sponsoring the winner’s channel for the next year.
Tara’s family had money. She’d learned there were more important things in life.
The fame shouldn’t be a big deal either. As the heiress to a multi-billion-dollar technology company, millions knew her name. Her younger brother had taken over Bianchi International, but she’d earned recognition by association.
Even if people didn’t identify her because of that, she’d been married to a prominent member of parliament, who turned their divorce into the kind of drama that gave celebrity news websites wet dreams.
None of that meant people had any idea who she was. She wanted fame that she earned. Her goal was to go as far as possible in the competition, propelled only by her and Nathan’s talent. To prove to herself she was her own person, without her slimeball ex, or her family’s name.
“Two minutes.” Nathan nuzzled her neck, pulling her out of her head.
The reminder would have cranked up her nervousness, but his attention sent a wave of calm flowing through her veins. Independent woman or not, Nathan made the best parts of life better. She couldn’t do this without him.
Tara steeled herself and stood. “I’m ready.” She settled at the large drafting table that sat in the back corner of their tattoo parlor main room.
The camera focused on her. She was shooting a reaction video as the results of who progressed to the next round were announced.
This was a new flavor of reality TV. Big Brother meets The Great Race combined with The X-Factor. A channel had to be one of the best, or at least convince their audience of that, or be voted off.
Bella’s Magic Needle featured her and Nathan creating unique art, then tattooing it on people. When they started doing this, she had no idea why people would watch something their show, especially without any drama. But they’d grown quickly, and scored the levels of popularity that earned them an invite to this competition.
Nathan spent as much time on camera as Tara did, but she wore her heart on her sleeve more easily, so she got to be the star tonight.
And if the votes didn’t fall in their favor, she’d get to be the crying, furious, disappointed ex-star. Her breakdown would give them a few hundred thousand too-late-to-matter views.
The Rinslet live stream counted down from ten, and Tara braced herself. Nathan had the equipment set up to play the announcement full screen and show Tara’s reactions in the bottom left corner.
She wouldn’t puke before the show even started. She’d be fine.
The counter hit one, and she pasted on a smile.
“Hey everyone, Chloe here.” Their chipper blonde host greeted the world. “I know you’re all super excited to get to the results, but I have other news for you first.”
“What?” Tara glanced at Nathan, who shrugged. Her genuine shock genuine would make for good viewing.
Every time Rinslet had other news it meant a new hoop to jump through. Not all the announcements were bad, but most took great effort and rescheduling to participate in.
“In case you haven’t tuned in for weeks and weeks and weeks...” Chloe coughed, “We lost two contestants, prior to this elimination round.”
“Right. Ms. Passion, the sex-toy blogger, because she went after Parker’s World, the travel blogger, for personal reasons. Doxing his girlfriend and spreading some seriously false information.” Normally Tara wouldn’t bother with the exposition, but... reaction video.
“... of this, we’re adding two new channels,” Chloe said.
Tara shrugged for the camera. “Meh.” As Rinslet surprises went, this one ranked low on the list. She forced herself to not look at the incoming comments. Sometimes she answered them live. Tonight she didn’t have the focus.
“And they’re exempt from being voted off—barring contest violations—for the first two months, counting this one,” Chloe said.
A growl slipped from Tara’s throat. “So they get off stress free? Such bull.” She swallowed the desire to curse. “I can’t be the only one who hoped two drop-outs meant we’d all have a free ride for a month or two.” She kept her cheer high. Any bitching needed to come off as good-natured rather than bitter.
As Chloe introduced the two new channels—Goldie’s Abandoned Building Exploration, and Kel Plays the Obscure—Tara l
et her emotions wash across her face. Concern, disbelief, and awe. The newcomers were as good and compelling with what they did as anyone.
Tara wanted to fidget. This was taking too long. Why hadn’t she and Nathan just watched alone, then sent out their thanks when it was done?
Because viewers tuned into the announcement regardless, and this way people would watch it on Tara’s channel. Views were a large part of the scoring system, And getting to the Next Round list took the same amount of time either way.
Jeremy Rocks was number one on the list.
“Not surprised,” Tara said. “Dude kicks ass on a cover song.”
As each name was announced, her smile grew thinner. She had similar compliments for everyone. No reason to bash another channel.
The stone sitting in the bottom of her stomach grew heavier when she and Nathan didn’t make the top five. Chloe insisted there was no order to the lists, but names called first got the most attention. And only six names would make it past this round, due to drop-outs.
“... Beauty’s Magic Needle,” Chloe said.
“Yes.” Tara’s cheer slipped out without thought, and she shot from her chair. She grabbed Nathan, pulled him to her side of the camera, and threw her arms around his neck. “We did it again.”
He cupped her cheeks and kissed her hard. “Told you we would.”
“We make the best team ever,” she murmured against his mouth. Two years together, and she still loved the feeling of his lips on hers. And everywhere else on her body.
She broke away with one more peck, but kept her fingers tangled with his as she sat back in her chair. “Thank you, everyone,” she addressed her viewers. When she’d started streaming, it was odd to talk to the camera as if it were another person in the same room. Now, it came naturally. “As always, there’s no way we could have done this without you. Strap in for another month of incredible art and awesome ink.”
She cut the feed, stood, and draped her arms around Nathan’s neck. They had post-production work to do—ensuring the footage was clean and uploading it to their channel for people who missed the live stream—but it would wait.
“How do you want to celebrate?” He rested his hands at the small of her back and searched her face.
Tara shifted her weight, rubbing her body against his. “By doing anything and everything that would get us demonetized if we uploaded the video.”
He brushed his lips over hers, then trailed a path along her jaw, to nip her earlobe. “So... playing Nintendo while listening to Metallica and talking about sex education?”
“I’m thinking along the lines of that last one.” She turned them both, and nudged his shoulder to prompt him to sit in the chair.
“I like the way you think. What are you teaching me today, Ms. Bianchi?”
She adored the way her last name rolled off his tongue, with his American accent. She stepped between his legs. “I was thinking we’d practice something you already know. Like the alphabet.”
“Hmm...” He scooted forward in his seat. The brush of his thighs against her knees sent heat spilling inside. “Where and how?” He nudged up the bottom of her sweater to kiss along her stomach.
The light touch ignited her desire. “With your tongue. Between my legs.”
“One of my favorite places to draw letters.” He looked up at her, holding her gaze while he unbuttoned her trousers.
NATHAN NEVER GOT TIRED of staring into Tara’s stunning blue eyes. Of hearing the tiny gasps she made when he bit lightly at her hip. Of tasting her. Anticipation climbed over him, dancing on his skin and making his cock strain against his jeans.
Fuck, he loved this woman.
He undid her pants, tugged the fabric down an inch, and teased his mouth along the edge of her panties.
Someone hammered on the front door. It was barely eight at night, but they were an appointment only shop, and no one was on their calendar. He groaned in frustration and held fast to her waistband. “Ignore them.”
“Damn straight.” She gripped the short strands of his hair, guiding him lower.
Their visitor pounded again on the heavy oak door, and the sound reverberated off brick walls and hardwood floor.
A strangled noise of irritation came from Tara’s throat. She stepped out of his grasp and held up a finger. “Thirty seconds. Don’t move.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Except to spin the office chair so he could watch her ass as she buttoned her jeans and walked across the shop.
He couldn’t see anything through the curtains except for the high contrast of shadows and light. In order to operate their business in this part of Milan, they had to keep the exterior historically accurate. Which meant not letting their shop show in the front windows, keeping the original architecture, or restored versions of it, and that their sign outside had to be creative to both comply and still convey what was inside.
Tara swung the door open. “May I help you?” she asked in Italian.
He’d been here for a few years, but he doubted he’d understand more of the conversation beyond her greeting. He stood to see who she was talking to.
He scowled and suspected Tara was doing the same. The woman was in her mid-thirties, the same as he and Tara. She was a member of the city council, most of whom didn’t care for the tattoo parlor being here. The city’s disdain had grown since Tara and Nathan acquired a little fame.
It probably had at least a little to do with the fact that Matilde, the woman at the front door, was dating Tara’s ex-husband.
Matilde and Tara exchanged a few sentences of rapid-fire Italian laced heavily with antipathy, and then Tara said grazie. The bitch at the end was implied in her tone. She flicked her wrist and let the door swing shut before Matilde turned away.
“What did we do now?” Nathan asked.
Tara grabbed the letter opener from the reception desk, and sliced open the envelope she held. “Sneezed too loud on a Sunday? Fuck if I know.” The switch from Italian to English always sounded flawless with her. Her mother was Irish and her father Italian, so she and her brother had been raised multi-lingual.
She slid the letter out, unfolded it, and cleared her throat.
“Dear Tara Bianchi,
This is to inform you I have my head stuck so far up your ex-husband’s ass I know what kind of fillings are in his back teeth—”
Nathan snorted a laugh.
Tara’s flicker of a smile was reassuring. “—on October 27, it was observed that the noise coming from your building was louder than allowed by the city ordinance—”
“We weren’t even here that night,” Nathan said. Not that it mattered to the city.
“That means it’s easier to prove our innocence with this one than the others.” It was the third warning month. The unfounded complaints had trickled in since Tara inherited the property from her grandmother. However, since Beauty’s Magic Needle started competing, the this is to inform you letters had increased significantly.
“I’ll send it to the lawyer in the morning.” She sighed and tossed both letter and envelope onto the desk. They floated down with a less-than-satisfactory pff. “I wish I knew how to make this stop.”
“Me too.”
They’d had this conversation countless times. Her ex was determined to make life difficult for her as long as she stayed here. She and Nathan always came back to the same conclusion—If they weren’t going to move, they had to put up with it.
Tara refused to move. It was partly stubbornness. She refused to be kicked out of her own home and place of business for doing nothing wrong. It was just as much sentimentality and practicality. Finding another place anywhere, especially when the city council didn’t want her here would be difficult.
And when her grandmother left her the storefront with an apartment on the second floor, Tara promised to use the property to pursue her dream. The place had been in the family since it was built nearly two centuries ago.
“Why won’t they just leave us alone?” Frustratio
n bled into her voice.
“I don’t have answers.” Nathan crossed the room, stopped behind her, and wrapped his arms around her waist. “But I do have spite.”
She leaned back into his embrace with a sigh. “How is spite being manifest tonight?”
Holding her helped him relax, and from the shift of her posture, he knew it was the same for her. He nudged her hair aside to kiss along her neck. “I get to fuck the most beautiful woman in Milan, and he’ll never touch you again.”
“Shameless flatterer.” Tara tilted her head, giving Nathan easier access. “Not that I want you to stop.”
“You sure? I’d hate to distract you.” He moved his hands under her shirt, and glided his palm up her stomach. A tantalizing spark from the skin on skin contact raced through him.
“How about this? Don’t you dare stop. In fact, weren’t you about to practice your alphabet?”
“Yes, ma’am, I was.” He teased the bottoms of her breasts through satin.
Her back pocket hummed with the vibration of her phone.
“Oh, come on,” Nathan said with disbelief. “Ignore it.” He nipped the edge of her ear, and traced a thumb around her nipple.
Her gasp was delicious.
Her phone buzzed again. Before he could grab the device and silence it, the steady hum of ringing started.
“Fine. I’ll talk to you.” She broke away from Nathan, and grabbed her phone. “Hey, Mom.”
“We have a problem, with the benefit tomorrow. One of the bachelors canceled.” Her mother’s heavy Irish accent filtered from the speaker on the phone.
Nathan could almost feel Tara’s frustration grow. She’d been working with her mother for months on a thirteen-bachelors-for-thirteen-good-causes charity dinner. Only twelve bachelors made that difficult.
Tara had worked hard to set up that part of the evening. Her frown deepened. “It’s too late to change anything, except maybe the signs at the event itself.”
“Don’t you maybe... know someone?”
Tara pinched the bridge of her nose. She still, after two years, struggled to explain to her parents that having a polyamorous relationship with Nathan didn’t mean she was out fucking every other person she met. “No, Mom. I don’t know anyone.”
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