"So we’re influencers now," Holly said.
"You'reperformers," Martin corrected. "And the world’s invested. So give the people what they want."
“You know this is ridiculous, right?” Holly snapped, spinning to face him with all the energy of a dancer whose performance shoes were made of middle fingers. “We’re not reality show porn stars.”
“And yet,” Martin said with a sugary smile that reeked of producer menace, “your contracts explicitly state that you agree to any promotional activities deemed beneficial to the success of the show.”
“Including acting like I’m one orgasm away from falling for him?” she asked, jerking a thumb in Nate’s direction.
“Wait, you’re not?” Nate pretended to look wounded.
“Especially that,” Martin said, smug. “And hey. Don’t knock it. The internet’s already halfway in love with you both.”
She barely resisted the urge to flip Martin off as he and Kendall scooted out of the door, leaving them with the camera crew to get B-roll.
“The Quickstep,” Holly began, “is like doing algebra on a treadmill while smiling like your bonus cheque depends on it, which, for the record, it does.”
She folded her arms across her chest as she tilted her head, assessing the size of the chaos she’d agreed to choreograph. “It’s fast. It’s bouncy. It’s designed to humiliate you. Every step’s supposed to be featherlight, just a whisper on the floor. No stomping, no dragging, no dead weight. You hesitate for asecond, and the whole thing turns into a TikTok fail compilation.”
She tipped her chin up. “Your frame has to belocked.Your footwork has to beclean. And if your center wobbles for even a beat, we’re going down like two drunks in a three-legged race.”
Nate raised a brow like that was a challenge and not a genuinehazard warning. She didn’t let him speak. “Think Fred Astaire on cocaine meets a runaway train with jazz hands. You’re leading, but that doesn’t mean you bulldoze me around the floor like we’re reenacting a bar brawl. Youguide.You make itlookeffortless while praying to every god in the multiverse that you don’t roll an ankle.”
She gave him one last look. Sharp, unapologetic, and absolutely daring him to make a joke. “Got it?”
He grinned, all teeth and attitude, and adjusted the back of his baseball cap on his forehead. “Got it. So basically, I have to be hot, fast, light on my feet, and just dominant enough to be palatable for network TV.”
She blinked. “You make it sound like we’re filming a very specific kind of OnlyFans collab.”
He smirked. “Baby, Iknewyou'd come around.”
“Oh my god.” She shoved his shoulder and turned away before he could see the smile she was absolutelynotletting him earn. “Cut that,” she warned the film crew.
They drilled footwork until her calves screamed and his shirt clung to his sweaty chest in ways that personally targeted her. The quickstep was supposed to be fun and cheeky, but dancing it with Nate felt like an exercise in high-stakes denial. Every time his palm grazed the base of her shoulder or his thigh brushed hers in a spin, her body lit up like it was auditioning for a different genre entirely. And sure, they mostly kept it together.Mostly.
Until the break.
He stepped in close while she was sipping water, leaned down like he was about to tell her a secret and said, low andfilthy, “If that’s how you fake it, darling... imagine the real thing.”
Her whole body snapped tight. Pulse spiking, knees softening, mouth dry. She swallowed and blinked. And because her legs felt like linguine and her vagina clearly had a death wish, she threw him a scathing glare and said absolutely nothing. Just set the water bottle down with surgical precision and walked away like her spine was steel and not about to melt for him.
Holly made it all the way to her bag to pretend-check her phone before she remembered how to breathe again. And even then, it came out shaky. She’d just barely recovered, heart rate somewhere south of explosive and thighs no longer trembling like they’d seen God, when the dooropened. Chaos entered, wielding a clipboard and an iPhone gimbal.
“Hey guys,” Kendall trilled as she wandered over to them wearing a headset like a halo and heels that could kill a man. “Sorry to interrupt.Sophiewants a few quick behind-the-scenes stills for socials. Just some promo content. Totally candid.”
“Sophie?” Nate asked, looking at Holly.
“Executive Producer,” Holly said as an aside to him before shooting Kendall a look. “So… not candid at all?”
Kendall smiled tightly. “Curated, babe! It’ll be fine. Okay Holly, back against the mirror. Nate, come in close. Maybe one hand on the mirror behind her.Yes,like that,” she sighed, lifting her filming rig. “Hot, but nottoohot. Leave room for Jesus, but only the slutty one!”
Nate blinked with an incredulous laugh. “There’s a slutty Jesus?”
“Oh my god, juststand there,” Holly muttered, trying not to laugh. Her back hit the mirror with a soft thud as she adjusted her posture, chest lifted, chin angled. The glass was cool behind her shoulders, but her skin was already flushing.
Nate moved in. Slow. Casual. A man who knew all too well how much space he took up and exactly what he could do with it. He placed his palm flat against the mirror just beside her head, biceps flexing, cologne-and-sweat combo hitting her square in the trauma response. He leaned in until her peripheral vision was full of his broad chest and sharp jaw.
Kendall flitted around them like a wedding photographer at a mafia ceremony. “Perfect. Nate, look at her like she’s your nextbad decision. Holly, gimme defiance.Power.A little ‘touch me and die’, part ‘I’ll let you anyway.’ Yes,that’s it.”
