“Ow, Allegra, what the hell. I told you we’re not—” Sebastian’s brilliant blue eyes pop open, looking straight into mine. I can tell exactly when his sleep-addled brain realizes it’s me in his arms and not the gorgeous model-actress he’s been seeing. Because that’s when his confused expression shifts into shock. And maybe horror.
I narrow my eyes. “Not Allegra. So kindly remove your hand from my ass. Thanks.”
I used to complain about the womenfriendsin Sebastian’s life. It was my job to arrange for flower deliveries, make dinner reservations. Buy generous goodbye gifts since he didn’t do relationships.Until recently.For the first time since I’ve known him, he’s actually dating someone, and she’s lasted for months.
Allegra.I preferred the multitude.
“Oh shit, Emma. Sorry.” Sebastian whips his hands off my body. He couldn’t have moved faster if he were going at light speed, like his character in his blockbuster movieThe Wanderers.
I scramble off him, my pencil skirt straining further, and say a prayer to the clothing gods that it doesn’t rip. That would be all I need for my humiliation to be complete. Plus, I got this skirt for next to nothing from my favorite designer consignment shop. It’s not easy for a girl to dress to impress in LA—not on a budget like mine.
I do a lot more than a typical personal assistant, and I’ve learned that to be taken seriously in Hollywood, you need to look the part.
Sebastian scrubs a weary hand against his too-handsome face. “Fuck. I thought you were—I thought…” He trails off and scratches his stubbled jaw.
I smooth my hair and tuck my white blouse back into my skirt.
“It’s ten fifteen. You’re late for the interview.”
There’s confusion in his gaze. “I’m not late. The meeting with that reporter is at noon.”
“Lord, youpromisedme you’d check your phone more often. I’ve called you a dozen times between last night and this morning, but you never answered,” I say in exasperation. “I had a meeting, so I wasn’t able to be here earlier, but I left youmultiplemessages. The interview got moved up, and the PR agency failed to notify us. The journalist just arrived. Marie is keeping her distracted with her famous scones.”
When I think about the hellish traffic I just endured trying to break every land speed record to go from my apartment to the downtown offices of his charitable foundation and then to Malibu, I feel exhausted, and the day has barely started.
Sebastian shrugs and runs a hand through his perfectly cut hair. “Well, it’s not my fault someone fucked up. I was at a party last night. And then we hopped on a flight to Vegas with friends of Allegra’s. My phone died, and I didn’t have a charger.”
At my expression, Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Hey, this is not on me. I made sure I flew back for the interview. I even set two alarms to be up.”
“What is this aversion you have to answering phones and checking messages?”
“My therapist at rehab would probably say that because I spent my formative years with every waking minute scheduled, I now value my freedom,” he says with a lazy grin. “Isn’t being unplugged supposed to be a virtue?”
“That’s surprisingly self-aware. But regardless, I’m going to staple your phone charger to your ass.”
He yawns. “Why didn’t you call Marie? She would have woken me with a smile and a giant cup of coffee. Unlikesomepeople,” he says with a raised eyebrow.
“I tried to call your saint of a housekeeper, but she didn’t answer.” I stalk to his vast walk-in closet, grab a pair of neatly folded jeans from a stack, and then pull a white linen shirt from a hanger. “You don’t have time for a shower. Charlotte Jones will eviscerate you if you keep her waiting much longer. She’s the one who wrote that takedown article about Finn Lyons.”
“Oh man,” he says with a laugh. “Is she the reporter he hooked up with? That interview is legendary.”
“I sent you her comprehensive bio when this was first scheduled. Don’t you ever read the reports I compile?”
“Em, if I read every report, I wouldn’t have time to actually do anything else, like act. Or live my life. And I readfast.”
“Sometimes it feels like I care more about your career than you do.”
“Correction. Youworrymore about my career.”
“Well, you need to worry about this reporter. Her article on Anton Capelli practically ended him. She made him seem like a pretentious mess when he spent three days with her, crying about his ex and quoting the romantic poets. She won’t leave out a single damaging detail.”
“I’m scared,” he says, not looking scared at all. “Remind me again why we’re doing the interview?”
“Because her profiles are guaranteed to go viral, so the studio wants this. Your job is to remind the world that you’re a serious actor, so showing up late and looking hungover won’t help. Here.” I toss him the clothes I pulled from the closet. “Wear these. The combination says casual but rich as hell.”
Sebastian’s bathroom door swings open, startling me. Standing in the doorway is Allegra Jameson. I hadn't even realized she was here. Or that she’d stayed over last night.
She saunters into the room in a tiny white tank top and even tinier skirt.
