Mia ruffled Margot’s hair. “Nothing, other than being adorable. Want some breakfast? Your dad said he’d make us French toast.”
Margot sighed, clearly relieved. “Papa, did you used to make this for me in France?”
Vance nodded. “I sure did. You liked yours with cinnamon.”
Just like that, the whole mood in the kitchen changed. We all put away our phones and focused on what actually mattered—the four of us. Not our exes. Not the gossip machine or even my career. Just coffee, French toast, and being together. The rest of it could wait.
The next morning, I walked into the production trailer with my guard up and my jaw set—the epitome of going in hot. The more I thought about Kenzie and Beau’s antics, the angrier I became. The conniving stunt at the Tidewater Grill was bad enough, but the social media frenzy they’d started with those photographs was damaging to my reputation in more ways than one.
The trailer itself was parked at the edge of Vance’s long gravel drive, its interior cramped and overcooled by a rattling AC unit overhead. A faint hum of monitors buzzed beneath the clatter of keyboards and the constant squawk of walkie-talkies. Clipboards were stacked in lopsided towers on a folding table littered with call sheets, crumpled snack wrappers, and empty coffee cups. One corner held a monitor streaming live camera feeds from the crew outside.
I felt like the person I was just weeks ago was disappearing—one lie, one headline at a time. Despite the comfort Vance had provided through all of this, I felt caught in a riptide, about to get my head slammed against the ocean floor. I didn’t know how I was going to maneuver through this without doing irreparable harm to my career.
The attorney I’d asked to look at the contract said it was pretty clear: I had to go with whatever they wanted me to do, including acting as if Beau and I were in a romantic relationship.
My plan? Appeal to their sense of decency first. If that didn’t work, I’d figure out Plan B.
Kenzie sat perched on the edge of a folding chair, her eyes too bright for nine in the morning, while Beau leaned casually against the wall, sipping something iced and green from a plastic cup. Carol stood near the window, her phone pressed to her ear as she barked orders to someone off-site.
I walked in, shoulders tense, trying to keep my face neutral. “Morning.”
“Lila, hey.” Kenzie popped up, all cheerful energy and faux warmth. I didn’t bother returning the enthusiasm.
“We were just going over some last-minute notes,” she said.
I crossed my arms. “We need to talk.”
Carol ended her call with a curt, “Fix it or you’re fired.” She looked puffy, like she’d eaten a bag of chips before bed and then not slept a wink.
“What can we do for you?” Carol asked.
“Do you know what these two are up to?” I gestured toward Beau and Kenzie. “The false narrative they’re spreading about the nature of the relationship between Beau and me?”
“Of course I do,” Carol said. “Listen, kid, like I told you before, this is just the way it all works. With all the competition out there, we have to stand out somehow. People love an opposites-attract love story. What’s the harm in it?”
“I didn’t agree to anything that paints me as some sort of reality-show cliché. Falling for the contractor? Come on. It’s not even an interesting story.”
Carol’s expression wavered slightly, as if she agreed with me.
“But it is.” Kenzie’s voice—and her eyes—were suddenly cold. “That’s already been proven by the way it’s been picked up on social and in the mainstream media.”
“Because you sent out photographs that were essentially untrue,” I said. “Carol, they ambushed me on a date. They had a photographer there.”
“I’m clear on the details,” Carol said. “You were on a date with Vance Prescott. Is that the moral ground you’re putting your stake in? Because you’re essentially dating your first reality-show client.”
“Our relationship is none of your business,” I said.
Carol went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “If we’d known, we might have gone with that angle. But I’m glad we didn’t. Co-stars dating is reality TV gold. You and Beau are perfect stars for this show. You’re both young, fit, gorgeous. I mean, what else would you suggest we do but capitalize on what we’ve got? Don’t you want this to be a success?”
“Frankly, I don’t know what I want.” I wrapped my arms around my waist. “This is not at all what I thought we were doing here. Paparazzi are camping outside my home. Lies are being spread about me—lies that could hurt my family.”
“We’re building a story that will make you famous.” Kenzie glared at me. “And rich. What’s wrong with that?”
“I’m not interested in becoming famous if I have to lie to do it,” I said. “I’m a designer, not a reality-television star.”
“Then why did you agree to work with us in the first place?” Kenzie asked.
“Lila, babe, just let this go,” Beau said. “This is our chance to really make a name for ourselves. They cast us together for a reason.”
