Page 157 of Knot Their Starlet

“Hey!” she squeaks, her head popping out of the ridiculous thing like a ferret out of its burrow.

He leans down and whispers something in her ear that has her expression splitting into a blinding smile before she throws her head back with laughter.

Her laugh is startling.

It’s not the practiced, musical sort of laugh I’d assume would come from a nepo-baby reality TV star used to being in front of the camera. It’s abrasive, and on the borderline of a snort.

I find that I can’t look away.

There’s something about the sight of her, her hair in a messy braid over her shoulder, and her expression completely unbidden, that has my thoughts stuttering to a stop.

“Well, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way,” Everett says, standing straight. “I have a contract for you to sign.”

“Contract?”

“Yes, it contains your NDA and outlines what we’re looking for. The outline part is non-binding and up for negotiation.”

It’s clear in the tone of his words that the NDA is one hundred percent not up for negotiation.

“The other clause that isn’t up for negotiation is that we get final say on everything that’s released. Every piece of media, every article, every social media post.”

“Understandable.” I nod, taking the thick contract from his extended hand.

I dig into the front pocket of my bag, pulling out a pen, skimming through the contract and signing away.

I’d sign anything to land a job like this.

Would I be as careless if I didn’t need this job? Definitely not. But I need this job.

If this project performs as well as I think it will, the network will have to green-light any future projects I want to do. So even if I don’t feel as passionate about this one, a dream job is still a job, sometimes.

“So, how exactly will this work?” Beckham calls from the couch, leaning his forearms on the backrest and eyeing me as I stand at the kitchen island.

I glance at the others in the room, gauging based on their expressions whether there’s a “correct” answer here or not.

“Well, I’m sure, considering how thorough this contract is, that you and your team have some ways you’d like this to go, but I certainly have recommendations for a project this size.”

“What kinda suggestions?” Beckham asks, drumming his fingers along the couch.

We have the same nervous tic. The sight has me relaxing ever so slightly.

Maybe I’m not the most nervous person in the room.

Unlikely, but at least I’m not the only nervous person in the room.

“Well, if you have any new music you’d like to promote, that could be what I write my first article on?”

He nods eagerly, seemingly waiting for me to continue.

“And considering... the scope of this project, if you’re looking for a docuseries, we could look at doing an interview in your hometown. Considering the limited interviews you’ve given in the past, I’m sure there’s an audience for learning more about you and where you come from.”

“That’s a good idea,” Leo hums.

“I think it sounds cool!” Beckham adds.

My gaze darts to Everett, gauging his reaction to the idea. He seems to be the one with final say here.

Everett offers me a single nod of approval, his brows raised ever so slightly, like he’s surprised at the suggestion.