Page 45 of Reputation (Tempt)

I should’ve said no. I should’ve shut it down. The risks were too high. I was too attracted to Emerson. Brooklyn was too attached to her. But instead, I found myself thinking of the possibilities.

I found myself thinking back to the night of Brooklyn’s slumber party and the way it had felt to touch Emerson. To almost kiss her. And all the stolen moments, the promises of intimacy, since.

“Yeah. Maybe,” I said, then added in a hushed whisper, “But you forget that I have to get her to agree first.”

He scoffed. “Everyone has their price.”

I wanted to tell him that he was wrong. That Emerson was different. But time and time again, I’d seen it play out the same way. Anyone could be bought for enough money, fame, or whatever.

I wondered what Emerson’s price would be. I wondered if I really wanted to know.

“I should go,” I said, praying she hadn’t overheard any of my conversation.

“Go.Go.We’ll talk more soon. We need to discuss what interviews and photo shoots you guys want to do. My phone’s been ringing nonstop with requests for exclusive engagement photos.”

“Oh, um—” I swallowed hard. This lie was so much bigger than I’d even anticipated. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him to put a stop to it, but instead, I found myself saying, “I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

We hung up, and I slumped against the wall. How the hell was I going to get Emerson to agree to this? And did I even want her to?

CHAPTERTEN

Istretched beneath the sheets and frowned. They were rough. And my room was freezing.

I opened my eyes and glanced around. A heart rate monitor beeped beside me, and a man slept in a chair beside the window where the sun was rising over the city. I did a double take. Nate? Surely I was hallucinating.

His cheek rested in his hand, his eyelashes dark against his tanned skin. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, the jacket of his tux thrown over the back of the chair. His brown waves were messy, as if he’d been tugging on them nonstop.

This wasn’t real, was it?

I squeezed my eyes shut and then opened them again, but he was still there. Still dozing peacefully in his tux. What the hell?

How long had he been there? All night, judging from his clothes.

He’d spent the night at the hospital with me?

Wait…had he left the studio end-of-year party for me?

I reached up and started checking my head for signs of an injury. Did I have a concussion? Amnesia?

No. I couldn’t have amnesia. I remembered his name. I remembered my name. The only thing I didn’t remember was much of what had happened after coming to the hospital.

I took a calming breath and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to reconstruct what had happened. I’d been itchy.Soitchy. And my tongue had started swelling. I’d taken a Benadryl.

More swelling. Panic. Brooklyn… Riding in the back of an ambulance. And then…the hospital?

Nate stirred and then straightened, rubbing a hand down his face. When his eyes met mine, he said, “You’re awake,” in a gravelly voice that went straight to my core.

I nodded, fighting the urge to squeeze my thighs together. “And you’re…here.”

“I am.”

I wanted to ask him why, but instead, I said, “What about Brooklyn?”

“She’s with Andre and Belinda. I’m sure they’re feeding her donuts and letting her watch whatever she wants.” He smiled, and I knew he was joking. Or if he wasn’t, it didn’t bother him.

“She called 9-1-1.”

He nodded. “I know.”

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