Page 49 of How to Prevent a Fumble

It’s been bad enough that I considered selling photos of my feet in the past, only deciding not when a man dared to say hello to me on one of the sites.

Pleasing men is not something I want to do. Especially not men who call themselves things like FootSlaveCarl41.

“Fine,” I hear myself saying, but it hasn’t quite registered in my heart yet. What does that even entail? What do we have to do? “But I hope you know that you’re not getting anything weird out of me. I don’t need any funny business. I’m not sleeping with you.”

He shakes his head. “Not required,” he says, his eyes drifting down to my legs as blush spreads across his cheeks. “But?—”

“No buts,” I tell him, holding my hand out to stop him. “I’m not having sex with you, Leo.”

But I’m not quite sure I’m telling him that or trying to convince myself.

“Thank you for meeting with us, Ms…”

“Crosby,” I tell her, taking her hand.

The woman in front of me is drop dead gorgeous. Her mahogany skin absolutely glows against the yellow of her dress shirt.

“Great to meet you. My name is Zhuri. I assume Leo has told you why you’re here?”

I shoot a look his way, watching as his eye twitches. He’s leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed lazily as he stares at the wall.

Sometimes I really wish I could read minds, because what I wouldn’t give to find out what’s going through that little brain of his.

“Yes, we spoke about it and came to an agreement.”

“Perfect. You’re exactly what we were looking for I think. We just have a couple of questions for you.”

“Great,” I say, settling into my seat, unsure of how long this is going to take.

Zhuri shuffles through the papers a man on her right hands her, holding it up so she can see it better.

“Have you been convicted of any serious crimes?” she asks, starting off the questioning strong.

I shake my head. “Squeaky clean.”

“Wonderful. Do you have any individuals in your life we should know about?”

I feel Leo’s eyes snap to me, and if I thought I could get away with not telling her about Tony before, I definitely can’t now.

I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. I take a second. “I have an ex-husband, but he’s not really in the picture,” I tell her truthfully. Should I tell her that he likes to torment me a bit? Probably. But I also don’t want to screw anything up for Leo.

I’m sure if they didn’t approve of me, Leo could find someone else he would end up being okay with. He would have to. But I don’t want him to need to, and for some reason the thought of having to manage someone else’s calendar on top of his makes me want to cry.

So I’d much rather I do this than anyone else.

“Okay, thank you,” she tells me before continuing on with more questions.

“Do you understand that this is not a mutual PR relationship, and although you may receive some benefits from media attention toward you, your main purpose is to give Mr. Warner positive PR?”

I nod, biting my cheek.

Obviously it sounds bad.

“Fantastic,” she says. “Do you understand that your obligation to Mr. Warner does not exceed what is listed here,” she pushes a stack of papers toward me, a list of things typed out.

Public outings.

Public dinners.

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