Page 19 of The Villain Edit

I twist them. “Daddy issues?”

I expect him to snap back. Or glare. Something.

Instead, he shrugs. “I didn’t have a perfect childhood. You?”

My laugh sounds brittle, even to my ears. “Do you think someone with a perfect childhood ends up like me?” I try to come off as flippant. It doesn’t work. The concerned look he shoots me only makes the old pain burn hotter.

I dip my chin, staring down at my phone, letting a curtain of hair hide my face from him. Lea texts back with a thumbs up.

His hand lands softly just above my legging-covered knee and the heat from his palm seeps slowly up to the juncture between my thighs.

What.

The.

Fuck.

Is happening?

“I’m sorry,” he says.

I continue to stare at his hand. It’s huge on my leg, his fingers long and thick and his nails short and tidy. Tan skin stretches over ligaments and veins I could trace for several long, lazy minutes.

He squeezes my leg softly. It sets off a pulse between my legs and I’m uncomfortably aware of the vibration of the car now. My brain goes there. Gabe, sliding his hand up my thigh ever so slowly as he drives. David waits on mute, unable to hear my moan when Gabe’s fingers, rough through my leggings, find my clit, circling until I’m soaked.

What the hell is wrong with me?

He’d ask me to sit on a towel, lest I leave a snail trail all over his custom leather.

His hand is already gone.

“Who’s your guest?” he asks after a moment.

I turn to look out my window and say the first name that comes to mind. “Wendy.”

“FromLove on the Line?”

Shit. Guys like Gabriel Sinclair don’t watch trashy reality TV. They watch documentaries or sports or…god, I don’t even know, snobby indie films. They certainly don’t watch a show where attractive people hook up and play each other for a huge cash prize.

But he knows who Wendy is, and it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I have to know. “Have you watched it?”

“No.”

There’s no judgment in his voice, something I didn’t expect to be relieved about.

“But you know about Wendy?” I can barely say her name without my stomach dropping. Getting her sent home cemented me as the villain ofLove on the Lineseason five. The producers didn’t have to give me the villain edit. Not only had she been my friend and confidant, but she was the girl next door, with wide dark eyes, deep golden skin, and a Miss America smile. The audience loved her and I betrayed her for a man I wanted to use as a pawn. It’s more complicated than that, but only Wendy and I know the truth.

“David told me.”

Of course he did. Every awful moment, I’m sure of it.

Gabriel glances over at me with a sympathetic look. Because he’s trying or he’s a better actor than I want to give him credit for, I’m not sure which. “I know how these shows work,” he says quietly.

“No, you don’t.” I reach over to his phone, mounted on the dash, and unmute David. “Next question.”

Gabriel’s looking at me again. I can see him out of the corner of my eye. I pretend to ignore him as David struggles to find the second question on his list.

“Uhh…would you want to—no, that question doesn’t work. Let me change it. Did you always want to be famous?”

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