Of course, it is. Why wouldn’t my Monday just be a drab, sluggish, uneventful day? Aren’t they meant to be?
I step into her office and wonder if I should just start packing my things now.
“Sorry if you were looking for me, Deborah, I was talking to–”
“How long has that been going on?” she asks.
“How long has what been going on?” I ask.
“Don’t be shy, girl. If you are friends with Zane Calloway, I want to hear all about it. Hell, I would have liked to know when you were applying for the job,” she says.
“I don’t understand,” I tell her.
“Zane Calloway is all the rage right now, if you haven’t noticed,” she tells me as she stirs a green smoothie.
“I thought Jett Navarro was all the rage,” I say. Not that I’m a Jett Navarro fan. He’s too young, lanky, and cocky. If I had to guess, he’s all talk too.
“I don’t give a flying fuck about Jett Navarro,” she says.
“Really? You might be the only woman on the planet,” I mumble, and Deborah rounds her desk to stand in front of me. I suddenly find myself wishing I could take my words back. Swallow them the way she’s swallowing her grass smoothie.
“I’m also the only woman on the planet who knows that average photos of Zane Calloway are worth more than nudes of Jett Navarro. If you were friends with him, you know, had connections–”
“I’m not. And I don’t,” I say.
Her mouth snaps shut, and she studies me. “Well, that’s a shame. Photos of Zane living his everyday life could be worth a lot. Maybe even a promotion…”
Damn.
I know what she’s implying, but I can’t say that I’m interested. As I walk out of her office, she calls out again.
“Oh, and Ashlyn…?”
I turn around.
“If you’re not up for the job, I am sure I can find someone else who will do it. In fact, I am sure I can find someone else who would be willing to do your entire job.”
Shit.
Chapter 7
Zane
I re-adjustthe pillow behind my head and tilt my hips upward slightly. Just enough to accentuate the tightness of the fabric of my boxer briefs. There’s no point in wearing underwear that fits like second skin, leaving very little to the imagination, if they aren’t going to show off what’s under that thin layer of fabric.
I lean forward a little, opening my legs enough to showcase my bulging thighs and toned quads. The slight shift of weight also curls my abs into a ripple of sculpted muscles that end only where the V below them begins.
I run my hand through my hair, leaving it purposely messy, and flex my jaw with just a hint of a smirk hiding in the corners of my lips.
“Have you gained weight?” Cal asks as he walks past my set.
It’s a shoot day, and while normally I’d toss his bullshit back at him between poses, today I’m not in the mood.
“Fuck off,” I shot back.
“I’m just saying. You look a little…bloated,” he digs again.
“You wish,” I say as the camera goes off in spurts.
