Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Everything Fletcher wasn’t.
Maybe that was the problem with being able to take things to the next level with my bandmate. Maybe he isn’t my type. He was convenient and safe.
I never knew I’d be attracted to a man like Brooks Morgan, but here I am sitting in the passenger seat, a little put out because the man refuses to give me any more of his attention than required.
People fawn over me. Women beg me to fuck them. Guys eye me with awe.
Brooks ignores me.
We’re only an hour into this fake relationship, and I already dislike the man.
Then I remember how he watched me in the kitchen, his eyes dipping to my stomach. If I hadn’t just stroked myself off in the shower, my dick would’ve been hard with the attention.
I think his boss got it all wrong when he assured me that Brooks was as straight as an arrow, but I guess being able to appreciate the male form doesn’t exactly make the man gay or even a little bi-curious.
I’m fighting the urge to test the theory because honestly, it’s nice to have someone around.
I’ve always been a social person. It comes with the territory of being famous, and I’ve been lacking human interaction for days now. I don’t want to push him away by trying to get him under me. Professional or not, every person has their limits.
“I don’t know why I’m even agreeing to this,” I mutter as we slow at a red light.
I keep my eyes trained on the building outside the passenger window.
“Your reputation is in the hole. We’re here to help.”
We—Blackbridge Security—not him personally.
I should be used to paying people to be around me. I’ve been doing it for as long as I can remember, but that doesn’t mean I like being considered a loathsome person no one but Davien would even consider being around without monetary gain.
“I think my time would be better spent on a beach than going to therapy.”
“You don’t actually have to do therapy. The public just needs to perceive that you’re getting help.”
Sounds shady as hell, doesn’t it?
Nothing in the spotlight is real. Even dealing with shit like this is all about cinema graphics and acting. If only someone could CGI my ass into therapy without me having to exert any real effort.
And that’s why you’re completely alone. You never put in the effort to do better.
I snarl at my thoughts. Weeks ago, everything was fine. I could be the shallow asshole who was constantly catered to. Now that everything has exploded, I have to actually work to get shit done.
“Can’t we just hire a therapist to come to the house? At least I’d be comfortable in my own home while people think I’m talking about my feelings and overcoming a cocaine addiction I don’t actually have.”
“That makes you look like a rich, elitist asshole.”
“I am a rich, elitist asshole,” I remind him.
“That’s what we’re trying to change.”
The SUV slows again, turning into a parking lot.
“No fucking way,” I snap at the sight of the horde of paparazzi gathered in front of the building. “Let’s just leave.”
“Do you really think they’re here by chance?” Brooks asks as he pulls into a parking spot, placing the vehicle in park.
“This is planned?” I look at the people loitering around with distaste.
“We can’t convince the public you’re getting help if they don’t know you’re getting help,” he says, popping a mint in his mouth before he climbs out.
I watch as he circles the front of the car, walking toward my door. Instinctively, I want to click the door lock, but that would be futile considering the man has a set of keys to the damn thing.
He pulls my door open, stepping in close before I can even think about climbing out.
From behind him, I can hear the photographers taking notice, and I wonder if they gave a description of the man’s vehicle. I open my mouth to say something snarky, but Brooks’s hand cups my cheek, gaining every ounce of my attention.
He leans in close, and I immediately lick my lips in preparation for his kiss.
He stops mere inches from our mouths joining.
“You just need to walk inside. Don’t worry about the press. I’ll handle them, okay?”
I nod, my body responding before my mind can tell me what to do.
He takes my hand as I climb out of the SUV, and I feel a little disheartened when he drops it once my feet are on the ground, but then I feel the warmth of his palm on my back as we make our way to the entrance.
He jolts to a stop when the cameras start flashing, and I have to stop too. If he’s changing his mind or senses some kind of danger, I’m going to take his lead. The public outcry and hatred for me has been very loud, and I wouldn’t put it past someone to try to hurt me.