AllFreeNovel
Share Us
A case of all-consuming lust was the last thing she had expected to put a wrench in her plans. She had to get some distance, to liberate herself from the mind-muddying effects of pheromone overdose before she pulled up her skirt and begged him to feel how wet she was through her silk bikini panties.
“I, um. Yes, I understand,” she whispered as she backed away.
Katarina never backed down or fled the scene. But when compared to the shame of launching herself at the man in front of her and kissing him breathless, stepping back was the less pride-destroying option.
“There’s no need to be sorry. I understand that you’ve had a hard time and are anxious about the project. You’re a smart woman and I’m sure you realize how much is riding on your performance in this game.” He crossed the room to grab a coat the same seal gray as his suit pants from the back of his desk chair. “But while I appreciate that, I believe we can come to a meeting of the minds without resorting to base tactics.”
“Of course,” Kat said, her throat tight. “I agree.”
He was right, but she didn’t have to like it, or to enjoy the reminder of what a rough, classless piece of work she’d become. When had blackmail become such an easy thing to consider?
She used to be a queen, for god’s sake. What had happened to her?
But she already knew the answer to that question. The dungeon had happened to her, and the drugs and the lies and the betrayal and all the rest of it. It was surprising that she wasn’t even more jaded and rough around the edges.
Still, she should be demanding better of herself. She didn’t want to be that woman anymore.
Hadn’t she just been thinking about “upward spiraling?”
“Lovely. Let me give you a ride to the location.” Serge crossed the room in a few easy strides, coming to cup her elbow in his warm hand and lead her toward the door. “We’ll be a few minutes late, but that’s no trouble.”
He was so smooth and the feel of his hand on her body so exactly what she’d been craving, it took a second for her to realize she was being herded to the slaughter without having had the chance to speak her piece.
“Can we talk first?” She dug her heels into the soft carpet.
Man, this guy was good, he’d had her in the palm of his hand without breaking a sweat.
“Katarina, don’t press me.” He sighed as she slipped her arm from his grasp. “If you fail to show up for the filming of the first meeting with the other women, you will be costing me money. I refuse to let that happen.”
“I’m going to show up,” she said with a smile. “I just want the freedom to direct the best course for my part in this venture.”
“Impossible.” His full lips drew into a tight line.
“And why is that?” Kat asked. “Because you’ve already decided to paint me as a villainess to boost ratings?”
“You are not being painted as—”
“They made me walk down the street in my old neighborhood on the first day of filming,” she broke in. “Anywhere else in the city, I might have had the chance to interact with people who could see me as who I am, not who I was.”
“It’s who you were that made you a candidate for this show in the first place,” Serge said, his frustration clear. “Why else would I have hired a ex-con with the stink of the dungeon still in her hair?”
Kate flinched. “Thanks.”
He sighed and regret flickered behind his eyes. But before either of them could speak again, one of the blonde bimbos poked her head out of the door to the bathroom. “Sergey? Do you have a blow dryer?”
“Under the sink, in the brown basket.” Serge gifted the blonde with an easy smile, before turning back to Kat and leaning in to press an unexpected kiss to her cheek. “My apologies, beautiful. Forgive me for my rudeness and lets go make some fabulous television together.”
“All right,” Kat said, too flustered by the sweet, sexiness of that kiss to put up a fight when he recaptured her arm.
Damn, the kissing on the cheek thing had thrown her, but she didn’t have to give up that easily. She would have a good twenty minutes in the cab ride downtown to sort out how to change Serge’s mind.
She had to convince him to give her a fair shot. She knew how these shows worked. There was always a person that the audience loved to hate, and she was being set up to be that unlucky gal.
Why else would the producer spend the week filming inmates she had known in the dungeon or insist she parade down the street she had once called home? She had seen the cameraman stop to zoom in on the horrified faces of the rich and sophisticated people who had been her neighbors. They were going to show the entire Kingdom how hated she was, and that even her one-time friends had turned their backs on her.
She had to get it together, to stop letting fear and anxiety bring out the worst in her. She had to show the people around her the decent person she was on the inside.
That person was in there, somewhere, and desperate for a fresh start. But she had to come out of this experience with a better reputation than when she went in or she could kiss all hope of reclaiming her life goodbye. No one in her former industry, not even her best friend, Stephen, would touch her with a ten-foot pole if she were to become known as the biggest bitch in the history of reality TV.
