“You don’t trust them?Youdon’t trust them?” She ground out, storming into a room a few doors down from his.
He followed her inside, afraid if he didn’t, she’d disappear before he could tell her the reason he’d asked her and not Irina. “I will explain everything.”
She threw a few cosmetics into a bag on the dressing table and zipped it up. Turning her back on him, she kicked off her shoes and grabbed a pair of sneakers. Body stiff, she shoved her shoes into a suitcase, tossed in the cosmetic bag, and shut the case. Her color was high and a visible tick showed in her jaw. Eyes narrowed, she pulled up the handle.
He made to take it but the way her lip curled on one side halted his actions. She stormed past him, stopping in front of his dressing room. Arms crossed; she tapped her toe on the rug. “It’s locked.”
“Okay.” He’d expected her to be angry but this was alarming. Keying in the code, he opened the door and stepped inside.
Wheeling her bag, she tucked it into the corner by the desk. He shut the door, the silence deafening.
“Would you like some water?” he moved into the kitchen, needing to regain his equilibrium.
“I’d like some answers.” She followed him into the kitchen area, a good sign.
He reached into the fridge and grabbed two bottled waters, placing one on the counter and sliding it over to her. She stared at it, arms again crossed tight against her chest.
He opened the lid and took a long pull of the drink. Perhaps he should take up drinking but he had practice in the morning. “The social media sites had you and me at a 92 percent.”
She lifted one brow, not softening an inch. “So?”
“You were the audience favorite, earning a 92 percent approval rate. That’s well over six million people thinking you were the one for me.” He’d been staggered by the numbers; proof they belonged together.
“Those people were voting on an idea, not reality.” Her knuckles whitened, nails biting into the flesh of her upper arm. “You had no right to do this to me. You promised you wouldn’t pick me.”
Not true. She’d asked but he hadn’t gotten a chance to answer. Somehow, he didn’t think she’d appreciate him telling her that. “We have chemistry Belle, in person and on TV.” He had to find a way to make her understand. “The ratings for tonight’s show were through the roof. The higher the viewership, the more money I make and the more money I make—"
“—The more money I make,” she said on a bitter laugh. “There is more to life than money, Erik.”
“I know that. I don’t need the money. You do.” His desire to help her overrode his own needs.
“So you felt sorry for me?” The flat way she spoke gave him pause.
“No, not sorry. Sympathetic. I’ve been where you are and it sucks. It wasn’t always good for me.” Being poor had never been fun but his family had persevered. At least he had family. She had one brother and nobody else. He wanted to be her family too.
“Do not try to equate our lives, Erik. You have no idea what my situation is, nor is it any of your business. You’re my client.” Her voice was quiet with undertones of disdain. “That’s it.”
He ached to be much more than that. What to say? This wasn’t going well at all and he was having a hard time reining in his own temper. “As my agent, you’re supposed to look out for my best interests. Having a high-rated show is in my best interest.”
Way to sound like a self-centered douche.
“As a person, I have to look out for my self-interests first.”
“I get that I blindsided you with this but this benefits us both.” She’d get the car and the money, enough to help her brother. It was the least he could do for her. But he wanted to do more. Much, much more. “You just have to pretend for a while longer. Once the other show airs, we’ll quietly announce that we’re calling it off.”
“That’s not the point and you know it. I trusted you, Erik. You told me you’d ask Irina and I trusted you.” Hurt crept into her eyes and she uncrossed her arms. Reaching for the bottled water, she opened the lid.
“It’s not a matter of breaking a trust. It’s a matter of practicality. We make a great couple.” He had to convince her of his sincerity. The last thing he’d ever wish to do was hurt her.
“We. Are. Not. A. Couple.” She enunciated each word with a jab of her finger in the air. “This wasn’t real.”
“It was real to me.” The admission was a big mistake.
Fear replaced every emotion in her face and she held her palm up, backing away.
He scrambled for something to say, anything to get things back on track. “Real that it’ll launch my acting career in television. Darius thinks it might even win me an Emmy.” A complete lie but he was desperate.
Distrust still lingered but she stopped her retreat. He’d fucked up royally. Short of telling her the truth—which he was one-hundred percent positive she wouldn’t take well— he had to hedge his bets and get out of this unscathed until he could regroup. “I know you’re upset but this will all die down once I break it off.”
