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CHAPTER 1
NINA
“That conversation was private! Personal arguments shouldn’t be aired as public grievances, Reid. Of all people, you should know that.”
I can barely keep my voice steady, trying not to shout through the phone at my ex-boyfriend. His relationship podcast is successful because he’s supposed to be an “expert” influencer. Turns out he’s just an expert asshole.
“Calm down, Nina,” he taunts, in a feeble attempt to sound as emotionally intelligent as his followers believe he is. “I understand this is upsetting, but every word in that clip came out of your own mouth. It’s not my fault you’re embarrassed by what you said.”
He’s got to be kidding—trying to blame me for his actions. As if it wasn’t bad enough that he whined on his livestream about how I left him over his “lack of wealth and fame,” which couldn’t be further from the truth. Now he wants to pretend none of this was his fault?
The real reason we broke up—the reason I left him and lost my faith in men altogether—is that Reid fucked his attractive podcast cohost.
“You secretly recorded our conversation,” I press. “I confronted you about your cheating and gave you the chance to apologize, maybe even offer some honesty and respect going forward. Instead, you recorded the argument, edited my words, and made me look like some demanding princess in front of millions of viewers. You’re supposed to have expertise in handling this the right way.”
“Oh, I do.” Reid’s tone changes as if hit by a sudden frost. “That’s exactly why I did it. I have a new book coming out. Do you think my viewers would still trust my relationship advice if they found out you caught me cheating with Sage? Don’t be dumb, Nina. This isn’t about you. It’s about my career.”
My heart sinks and a knot twists in my stomach. He decided that making me look like a gold digger in a now-viral video, one that will likely cost me my reputation, was worth it to save his own ass. I never even got the chance to reveal his affair before he turned our entire relationship into a content opportunity.
I feel sick. If even half his viewers knew how Reid behaved in private, they wouldn’t let his advice anywhere near their relationships.
“Look, Nina, what’s done is done,” he says casually. There’s more remorse in the tiny conscience of a fly that just walked across someone’s hamburger than in all of Reid’s soul. “I suggest you get back to your little concierge business and leave relationship mitigation to the professionals. You’re still young at twenty-six; you have a lot to learn.”
I roll my eyes so hard I think I can see the inside of my skull.
“Young? You’re three years older than me, and isn’t Sage even younger?” I sputter.
I hate letting my emotions get the better of me. I pride myself on organizing other people’s chaos without getting flustered. But it’s almost the end of November, almost the holidays—normally my favorite time of year and the busiest for a personal concierge—and the timing of this hit is overwhelming.
Reid is right about one thing, though. I need to move on. Arguing with him won’t undo what he’s done or the damage he’s likely already caused to the business I built from the ground up. I only hope my clients don’t react to the clip the way Reid’s followers did.
“Goodbye, Reid,” I say quietly. “I hope you learn to treat people with more respect and loyalty than you showed me.”
He lets out a small, snide chuckle that reeks of arrogance, and then he ends the call.
For a second, I stand in my apartment and stare out the window like a deer in headlights. The violet hour is descending over the Denver skyline, painting the tops of the buildings in muted purples and dusty pinks. In the distance, the mountain silhouettes fade into the background, and I think about my upcoming concierge jobs. At least there will be work to focus on. Hopefully.
“I’m very sorry, Ms. Adler, but I’m afraid we have to cancel our upcoming contract. It’s nothing personal. We’ve just decided to go with a less high-profile concierge this season.”
This is just one of several calls, one right after the other. Three days after Reid released that video, the scandal is already costing me work. Clients are quietly, politely dropping me, and signed contracts are dissolving with excuses as cordial and thin as cotton candy. My boyfriend, my reputation, most of the bookings that were supposed to carry me through the holidays—all of it is slipping through my fingers at record speed. At this rate, my entire client list will be gutted.
“I understand,” I say, mustering a smile so my tone sounds convincing. “Perhaps you’ll require my services in the new year.”
“Perhaps,” the unconvincing voice replies, and another client walks away.
I sigh and toss my phone onto the sofa, then run a hand through my hair.
What am I going to do?
One December booking is all that stands between me and an empty calendar for the rest of the year. I hope to God they don’t cancel too.
On my way to the kitchen for more coffee, I pause at the mirror. My usually cheery complexion looks a bit dull, and I blame it on stress as I sweep a thick strand of dark-brown hair out of my eyes.
“You got this,” I remind my reflection. “You can stretch a dollar better than most people can stretch their patience. This is a bump in the road, and there’s still a gig on the books. It’s going to be fine.”
Hazel eyes stare back with the same stubborn conviction that helped me build my business in the first place. Then I get back to work.
On the kitchen table sits the file for my upcoming contract—a month of live-in concierge service for three wealthy men at their private mountain house.
