He shrugs, typing away on his phone, with no ounce of concern. “Does it matter? You look fucking gorgeous, princess.”
I blush, focusing on his compliment, before I shake my head. “These were our private moments.”
“Jesus, Wren.” He sets his phone face down as he turns toward me, irritation tugging at his features. “You need to calm the fuck down. This is good for you. This exposure will only help you climb in this industry.”
“I don’t want this kind of exposure. I don’t care about climbing the industry. I only want you, us.”
His jaw clenches. “You’re overwhelmed. Focus on staying beautiful, and I’ll handle the rest.” He cups my cheek. “Move in with me.”
He doesn’t ask, but says it like a statement. I’m shocked speechless, but a month later, we’re unpacking my belongings into his oceanfront mansion.
I twirl the material of my skirt in my hands, trying to ground myself. “I should’ve seen the red flags then, but he made me feel crazy for caring. Like I shouldn’t care about photographs, as long as I was in them.”
No one says a word, as if they know what’s about to come.
Terry is waiting in the reception area of Hearst Properties when Elias and I show up for work on the first day of filming season four.
“There’s my favorite couple,” he shouts, and my female co-workers glare daggers at me.
The energy has shifted amongst all of us. They’re cattier, meaner, constantly throwing digs. I feel like an outcast, but Elias tells me it’s jealousy. They wish they were me, and when they tried to get his attention, he only had eyes for me.
“We need to go over a few things, Wren,” Terry informs me as I follow him into the conference room.
Elias stops me, a soft hand on my wrist as he pulls me toward him. He plants a soft kiss on my temple. “Go ahead and get settled for work, princess. I’ll talk to Terry for you.”
A part of me is relieved. Terry gives me the creeps. His eyes always seem to linger on me a little too long, and he’s always finding a way to touch me. It makes my skin crawl.
“I stopped recognizing myself,” I whisper. “Every smile felt forced. Every word was rehearsed, like I was given a script. My clothes became tighter, shorter, more revealing.”
Jett’s aura doesn't waver—grief, fury, heartbreak, and guilt are etched across his beautiful face. Even though we’ve talked about everything privately, I hate how I’m the reason he’s feeling pain again.
He’s seeing the woman he once loved being rewritten in real time, piece by piece, by someone else’s hands.
It starts with a disagreement. Something small in the grand scheme of things didn’t even matter. I had forgotten we were supposed to attend an event. When Elias came home, he found me curled up on the couch, comfy clothes on, as I read on my Kindle.
“What the fuck, Wren?” he yells, storming over toward me and ripping my Kindle from my hands. He tosses it against the wall, and I flinch. “Why thefuckaren’t you dressed?”
“For what?” I ask, confused.
“Are you thatfuckingstupid you forgot?”
The gala.
“Oh my god,” I gasp.
“I guess you are thatfuckingstupid.”
Rage pours from him. I’m lost in my head, so I don’t see it coming.
The back of his hand connects with my cheek. Hard.
Shock explodes through me as the sound of skin snapping back echoes in my ears.
I clutch my cheek, mouth open as tears burn my eyes.
His eyes widen in surprise as the apologies pour from him. I flinch again as he steps forward, cupping my face with his hand as he rubs circles over the spot he slapped.
“I don’t know what came over me,” he admits, voice soft and laced with pain. “Go take a bath, princess. I’ll go without you. I’m sorry, Wren. It’ll never happen again.”
