I also see countless cell phones aimed in their direction.
I hold up my phone, and then I lower it for a beat as a thousand thoughts seem to plow into me at once.
I shouldn’t do this. I can’t do this to Archer. I should respect his boundary.
I know I should.
But it’s going to be online anyway. Other people have their phones aimed at the baseball players right now, too. It’s not just me. Maybe one of them is live streaming. Would it really be that big a deal if I did, too? It’ll be online either way.
Diedrick said it himself. He could make or break my entire career. This opportunity here at Paradise Island could make it or break it.
I didn’t come here to leave with a boyfriend.
I came to leave with a paid partnership.
With Diedrick’s threat hanging over my head, I’m backed into a corner.
Before I allow myself to think twice and stop myself, I turn around, pull my phone open, and stare at the button to go live on Instagram.
My fingers tremble as I raise my phone up.
I do a quick smile-relax sequence to get myself camera ready, and then I click the button.
“Millie here with Millie’s Miles coming at you today live from Paradise Island Hotel in Paradise Island,Bahamas.” My voice is trembling, too. “The weather is gorgeous this afternoon, a balmy seventy-eight degrees with a few clouds. But wear that sunscreen, travelers, because you can still get burned even on cloudy days! I’m standing by the pool of the Beachfront Tower. This tower features upscale suites and an adults-only pool area, which is right behind me.”
I walk around a little, making positively sure that the ballplayers are in the background of my video as they settle into their cabana. They leave the curtain open, and I wait until I see someone post a comment asking if that’s Danny Brewer in the background.
I mean, he’s married to Alexis Bodega. She’s arguably the biggest pop star in the universe.
Of course they’ll recognize him.
And they have, so I move along—as if it was pure chance that he made the background of my video. I let the comments do the talking for me, and I watch as viewership ticks up and up. And up. And up.
Guilt knots my stomach, but nobody gets to the top without being ruthless. Didn’t Archer himself say something along those lines to me once upon a time? Ruthless in his pursuit of excellence. Well, I’m ruthless in my pursuit of a paid partnership since he’s made it clear we’re over in a few days anyway.
You know…except for the fact that he offered me a job with his foundation.
Still, that wasn’t an offer to be together. In fact, he said hecouldn’tbe with me when this is over. He has baseball to focus on.
I feel tears brimming in my eyes, and I’m thankful I’m wearing sunglasses as I hide all that emotion inside with my fake voice, fake smile—fakeeverything—just to get some goddamn views so I can get this goddamn paidpartnership.
“Let’s chat about what I’ve been up to the last few days.” I talk and walk, and I point out different features around the resort as I walk. I happen to angle myself so the baseball players are in the background again, and I keep an eye on the number of viewers who are watching this live broadcast.
It’s going viral.
And not just viral, butsuperviral. The kind of viral that will get Diedrick to offer me that partnership. The kind of viral I’ve been hoping for.
The kind that will skyrocket my brand.
At the expense of the one person who, in no uncertain terms, was incredibly clear in how he felt about appearing in my content.
I feel like shit.
I’m an asshole. I’m invading his privacy. I mean, not legally. He’s in a public place where there’s no reasonable expectation of privacy, and others are filming him, too.
That doesn’t make it right.
But it does make me a crap human being.
