Page 33 of Bounty
A few seconds of rest, and we moved on to our last exercise and the most grueling of the bunch, a one-minute plank. While lunges were Mom’s worst enemy, planks were mine. That sentiment was doubly true today when my body begged for more sleep after two restless nights. Often, I treated this routine as a warm-up and went for a thirty-minute jog once we finished, with extra stretches when I got back. Today, that wouldn’t be possible. Even if I had the time, I simply didn’t have the energy.
“And done.” Mom’s announcement always came with flair. She settled onto all fours while I collapsed into a heap. “Cobra now, sweetie.”
I grunted, still lying on the carpeted floor.
“Effie, darling, we just have three things left. Cobra, child’s pose, and standing wide-legged forward bend. You can be lazy in the shower.”
Sighing, I pulled myself into position. I didn’t want her to get suspicious, nor did I want to throw off her groove because I went and developed a crush on a playboy biker. Besides, neglecting my body forhimwas doing me a disservice. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how much his rejection hurt. I could be depressed when I got home, but today, I’d pretend all was well.
I arrived at the convention center without a hitch. Dad hit the road last night. Riker was allowing Drifter to turn around and head to Austin as well. It was some serious shit if I needed a fucking escort.
When I walked into the ballroom where the signing was being held, I spotted Effie before she saw me. She was stacking books in the middle of her mother’s table between a basket wrapped in cellophane and tied with a gold bow and rows of swag bags. On the side of the table, a retractable banner stood with a gigantic photo of Daria superimposed in front of me.
I snorted. I couldn’t wait until the event was over. Sometime, in the early morning hours, I decided I probably wouldn’t work for Daria again. Hell, today probably marked theend of my modeling career. The sooner I got my ass over there and Effie turned her devastated gaze to me, the sooner I could look toward the end of the day.
Except…
Her gaze wasn’t devastated. It was fucking frozen. She looked at me as if she hadn’t fallen apart in my arms. Her cold greeting felt as if she cut me with a shard of ice.
“Effie—”
“Mom wants to know if you’re willing to sign books if the readers ask.”
“Don’t I always?”
Effie shrugged. “I’m just relaying the message, Slice,” she said briskly.
I stepped closer to her. “We need to talk.”
She drew herself up. “I can’t imagine what you want to discuss with me.”
“Effie—”
“Stop,” she gritted, glaring at me. “If we make a scene, we will be escorted out and that won’t go over well with my mother. Sapphire has a strict no-bullshit policy, andyouare reeking of it. If you don’t want to get tossed out, dust it off and leave me the fuck alone.”
Her chin trembled and her nose reddened, but she swallowed. The frozen glower returned. That one moment of vulnerability gave me a smidgeon of hope. At some point today, I’d make her listen to me.
As the day wore on, faking my fucking grin for readers with no concept of boundaries became more challenging. More than one broad tried to grab my dick and even more groped my chest. The no-touching policy meant very little to some bitches, even if both Effie and Daria reminded them each time they got too handsy.
“Thank you so much,” a brunette squealed once Effie snapped a picture with her cellphone, absolutely starstruck by Daria. She’d stammered through her request for a picture, and when Daria agreed, I feared she’d pass the fuck out.
Effie handed the woman her phone back with a smile, though the brunette’s attention was still squarely on her mother. Not only was Effie acting as her mother’s assistant, but as her photographer, too. She took a fuckton of pictures to post on Daria’s social media page, including capturing fan reactions of the moment they met their favorite author and the eye candy she brought along.
“It’s no problem…umm…I’m sorry, dear, what did you say your name was again?” Daria asked, settling back in her seat.
“Ophelia,” the woman provided, turning her attention to me. She swept me with an appreciative glance and a blush rose in her cheeks. Glancing over her shoulder at the two motherfuckers she’d arrived with, she looked at me again and gnawed at her lower lip. “Umm, can I take a picture with you, too?”
I glanced at Effie, gauging her reaction. Her expression was blank, showing zero evidence of being upset with me or caring about the attention other women showered on me. I’d been stealing looks at her all fucking day, hoping to see…hell, I didn’t know what. Another chink in her armor? A smile? I felt like a goddamn simp, clambering for her attention and wanting to sulk each time she denied me. Why, I didn’t know. She gave me what the fuck I’d told her I wanted. I should be celebrating because she took my words to heart. Instead, her total shutout drove me up a goddamn wall.
“Are you going to answer her, Slice?” Effie’s question snapped me back to the present.
Shit.
I’d been staring at her.
But, fuck, she was gorgeous. Her curls were flowing free today, and her tight black outfit clung to her curves, curves I had the pleasure of seeing in their full glory. Big Boy roused.
I cleared my throat, looking at Ophelia and summoning my grin. I hated fucking speaking in the Southern accent Moose had, all things considered, but Daria insisted on it.
