I felt that twinge again. The one that wasn’t jealousy. But I couldn’t dwell on it. Not here, and not now.
Bob’s voice continued its patronizing rhythm. “You need to remember, Holly, every detail counts. One misstep…”
I exhaled quietly and set him to mute in my brain, scrolling a little faster through the model’s feed. My heart kicked up, and I went back to his messages.
With the precision of someone who had spent yearscompartmentalizing every feeling, I hit delete. The DM vanished from his account. No alert. No drama. Just gone.
Bob paused mid-sentence, as if he could feel the shift in my mood. “Everything good?”
“Yes. Everything’s on track,” I said evenly, closing the tab. My pulse had slowed, but a flush lingered on the back of my neck.
Within seconds though, it was filed away. Business first. Always business first.
Bob cleared his throat. “Excellent. I just hope you understand the stakes. Hunter’s image isn’t just his. It’s the brand. And the brand? Well…” He waved vaguely. “It’s complicated.”
“Complicated is my specialty,” I said lightly, clicking over to an email draft I’d started with the sneaker brand I’d had my eye on. “Speaking of which, I’ll follow up with them about the shoot next week.”
His eyebrows rose. “You’re moving fast.”
“I move fast,” I said. “I also move effectively.”
He sighed, shaking his head, and finally left me to my corner of controlled chaos. The second the door clicked behind him, I let myself breathe a fraction easier.
I minimized the tab and picked up my phone, dialing the sneaker brand’s marketing line. “Hi, it’s Holly Griswold. San Antonio Surge. Let’s lock in the dates for the shoot…”
By the time I hung up, everything in my corner of the world was under control. Hunter’s brand and image were taken care of. All of it neatly piled, polished, curated. And me? Back to my role as the smooth and efficient one. Untouchable.
“I hate when your face does that thing right before we have to work.” Hunter stared at me with more than a little hesitation.
The press room was quiet, chairs stacked neatly at the edges, lights dimmed low except for the fluorescent glow over the central table. He was early for our one-on-one session, which was the first shocker.
“What’s my face doing?” I asked, going over to where he sat at the edge of the small stage.
He gave a low chuckle. Easy as a breeze. No idea what I’d just done. “Like you’re hoping for someone to piss you off so you can sock it to ‘em. Inevitably, that’ll be me.”
“Not unless you’re asking for it,” I said with a grin.
“So did you hear?” He practically loomed over me as I pulled out my tablet. “The late-night talk show that’s calling about me. They want me to headline their Tuesday night. Isn’t that insane?”
“I heard, and I declined.”
His grin faltered. “You what?”
“It clashes with your early training session,” I said, voice crisp. “Training is non-negotiable.”
“You seriously just declined without even talking to me?” His jaw tightened. I could see it, the shift from playful to annoyed. It made me wonder how he’d react if he knew about the DM I’d deleted without discussion either.
“It’s my job to manage these conflicts before they become your problem.” I kept my voice steady and calm to try and deflect some of the agitation he shot my way. “I offered them a pre-show taping at a more reasonable hour and day, but they refused. Not your problem.”
“Sounds a lot like my problem.” He folded his arms across his chest and glared at me. “What’s the point of fame when I’m not allowed to do any of the fun stuff with it?”
“There’s a difference between having fun with fame and letting everyone make a mad grab for a piece of you without a filter,” I said, working hard to keep the edge from my tone. “You need boundaries, or it’ll all fall to pieces around you.”
“Someone might look at it and think you’re using boundaries as an excuse for jealousy.”
That one hit me a little harder than it should’ve, but I swallowed it back with graceful aplomb and gestured toward one of the emptychairs.
“Sit. We start from the top.”
