“Draven Skin, Fused, and the Vital Rush campaign. Energy drinks, remember?”
I groan. “That’s a lot of money right there.”
“You nailed it,” says the PR guy without a shred of irony. “The word they used for you was ‘uncontrolled risk.’”
Scott leans forward, fingers steepled. “And we’re on thin ice with Vital+. That’s the family-oriented one. Huge wellness push. Yoga, supplements, matching loungewear.”
I let my head fall back against the chair. “Jesus. One supposed backstage incident and everyone forgets I haven’t thrown a chair in, what—two years?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Scott says. “It’s not about what you did—it’s about what itlookslike you could do. And right now? It looks like you’re spiraling. Doing drugs. Being reckless. That kind of thing.”
“Great. So what’s the plan?” I ask. “Rebrand me as a monk? Shave my head and open a smoothie truck?”
There’s along pause.
The PR guy clears his throat. “They want something visible. A gesture. Something that says you’re stable. Grounded. Reformed.”
I take a slow sip of club soda and mutter, “Maybe I’ll just marry someone squeaky clean and pretend I’ve matured.”
It’s a joke.
Mostly.
But something about it hits different the second it leaves my mouth.
My brain latches onto the thought.
Squeaky clean. Wholesome. Smart. Doesn’t take my crap. Olive.
I see her clearly in my head—defensive hoodie, sharp mouth, warm eyes. The way she kissed me like she’d forgotten the rest of the world existed. And the way she looked after—like she didn’t know whether to murder me or kiss me again.
And she’s broke. She told me that. She needs money.
I’ve got more of it than I can spend andzerocredibility left.
She’s everything I’m not.
And that’s exactly why it could work.
My fingers tighten around the glass.
“Anything you want to suggest?” Scott asks, watching me.
I look back at the screen.
“Let me get back to you on that,” I say slowly, still thinking.
I know it’s a crazy idea.
And if wedothis, it has to be strictly business.
No more kissing. No more getting naked. No sex.
Otherwise, Liam would kill me.
The meeting ends with a promise to “circle back” and a spreadsheet I’m never opening.
I shut my laptop and just sit there, thinking.
