Page 64 of Overexposed

“Hate the game,” he reminded me. “Do we have a deal?”

Did we? It sort of sounded like we did. For Gem if nothing else. “Are you putting all of this in writing?”

Seven grimaced. “I would prefer not to, if it’s all the same to you, but if you insist, then we’ll make it happen.”

“Hmm…I want a deposit. A good faith one. For three dates. So essentially three appearances. I’ll put the money in a savings account and not touch it. If everything works out, I'll refund it for whatever the last date is and you only pay me for exactly how many we have. That way if you do something that messes this up, I have the money to help offset some bills.”

Dad’s electricity was paid and so was his water and garbage. My electric, however, needed a good infusion and I was really not ready to give up that apartment.

“I’ll pay you for a full week. We’ll call it seven days. You keep it as long as you don’t screw this up and throw the story or the narrative. We’ll call it a bonus for good behavior.”

“Fine. Seven days.” I wasn’t going to turn down the extra cash. I stuck my hand out and he gripped it. “Deal.”

“Good.” He pulled out his phone, and a few minutes later mine pinged. I was probably going to end up answering questions about all the money at some point.

My accountant, if no one else, got bitchy about unexplained funds.

He didn’t waste any time grabbing his jacket and heading to the front door. “You’ll need to stop seeing Gem and Ollie both. Clean break. No phone calls, no dates. Nothing. This relationship between us needs to be beyond reproach.”

“Nope, hard pass,” I said, pulling open the door for him. “That’s not a part of the deal we just negotiated.” His jaw dropped. As much as I wanted to enjoy the expression, I gave him a not-so-gentle nudge and he took a step. “Text me when and where I need to show up, and I’ll let you know if I can make it.”

I didn’t wait for him to agree, just closed the door and leaned back against it. All of my calm fled as my heart raced. I’d just agreed to sell my time for a fuck-load of money to put on a show for the media.

It was official—I’d lost my mind.

chapter

twenty-four

Stella

Despite the intensity of Seven’s negotiations, I didn’t hear from him for the next four days. Then I woke up to a messenger at the door to my apartment with a fat, white box and two bags as well as a card in a heavy envelope. The card was from Seven and was short and to the point.

Red carpet premiere tonight, party to follow. Will exceed six hours. Deposit will clear your account thirty minutes before I pick you up. Be ready by three.

The neat, clipped strokes of the pen were hard, little slashes. If the way a word was written could convey the emotion beneath it, Seven had definitely mastered the technique. I almost didn’t want to see what he sent me to wear, but if he was going to pick me up at three, I would need to start getting ready.

The Portia Levinge Couture gown he sent was legitimately one of the sexiest and most irritating outfits I’d ever worn. First, it fit me like it had been painted on. The body sheath—supported by two thin spaghetti straps—was pure lace and utterly see through.

Lace panels framed the solid strapless black bra and t-backed panties. It literally meant my ass cheeks were going to be ondisplay. As ready as I was to argue against wearing anything like it, I tried it on.

I looked…reallygood. That was without doing my hair or putting on shoes. The unsettling sensation had me vaguely ill. It took me a while to shake off the anxiety, but I was ready to go when Seven showed up.

To my shock, he had a driver with him and he was utterly attentive until we were in the car, then he ignored me all the way to the theater in Hollywood, where the red carpet premiere was going to be.

Press was everywhere, with lights flashing as the stars made the slow walk. “Normally,” Seven said as we inched along with the line of other cars dropping off their passengers, “I’d tell you to take one picture with me as we got out and another right at the carpet, then I’d let you go ahead while I paused for the quick questions and photo ops.”

Oh, I was going to throw up. There were way more people present than I’d expected even after seeing my share of these from the far side of those velvet ropes. I’d never been a fan of these meat walks. They were there to get attention for the movies and to give the news and stock sites some B-roll.

“That means just stay with me,” Seven continued. “I’ll keep a hand on you, and if I step away, just stay there, I’ll be right back. I don’t want you moving into the theater on your own. They’ll eat you alive.” That last part was muttered under his breath, and I got the feeling he wasn’t referring to the press.

I registered every single word while concentrating on even breaths, so I didn’t vomit on the spot. I’d rather face Dillon beating the crap out of me again than get out of this car and begin that walk.

This was a terrible idea. The worst. Did I really need the money that much? Fuck. Yes.

There was no more time to think of an escape plan. Seven pushed the door open and climbed out before turning to hold his hand out to me. Keeping a count of my breaths to try and silence the churning wheels of my thoughts, I clasped Seven’s hand.

Then we were standing together with his hand on my lower back as he turned us toward the roar of the fans and the paps alike. Cameras flashed, and the only thing that kept them from blinding me was the sun was still up—one nice thing about arriving in daytime. Course, it also meant I was squinting from the sun and trying not to frown as I kept my pace even with Seven’s.

---