Allen nods.
"I can work with that. Get 'em to shoot through their paperwork. Tell 'em I'll need an NDA for the accent, the Antipodean distribution rights, and three point two five percent of the season's gross."
Allen's mouth is hanging open. I quickly shoot off a message to Leo.
"What? I'm providing the location and they're getting a Discie winning season guest star. I know my fucking worth," she says, winking at Dellie and me. "Oh, and Dels, once the paperwork's squared away, tell Ruby if she wants to do an on-screen nest consult, I'll need her here Thursday morning."
Dellie nods, tapping madly at her phone screen.
My phone vibrates again. I laugh. "It's Leo… I think you broke his brain a little," I say, showing her the row of exploding head emojis.
Lauren chuckles. "Which one was Leo again?"
"You were calling him His Betaness," hisses Dellie. "The one with the giant—"
My phone vibrates again. I scan the message. "He says thank you for your generosity, and are yousurebecause they would be happy to do four percent for you?"
Lauren shakes her head. "Three point two five. I'm a fuckingexactingproducer. Tell 'em to consider it a goodbye present for the heat audio, and as compensation for them having to record voiceover for me oneveryheat scene. If they really wanna give away their money, tell 'em to donate the difference to a good charity."
I quickly tap back another message. Leo's reply is almost instant. "He says he just appreciates an omega who knows what she wants. Where should I send the paperwork to?"
"Clarke has my contact details and email, right?" Dellie asks, looking around at Allen.
"Yeah, I do."
She spins in my arms, and looks at me, the surprise on her face quickly giving way to understanding. "So it was you," she murmurs into my chest.
I nod. "Clarke's the public face. Only people I love get to call me Ralph."
Chapter 32
Loz wriggles back on the sofa, looking smug, as I return the signed contracts and forward a copy to her lawyer, and send Lance a quick message to ask him to pick up Pack Zed from the airport tomorrow.
Looking at her expression, anyone would think the whole situation was barely a blip on her radar, but the way her shoulders have dropped makes me wonder just what she didn't want to say earlier. And what she didn't want to say in front of me.
Crap. I hope it's just that it wasn't just us.
"Look at that. Not even a day off schedule. You got a real talent for that shit, Clarke or Ralph or whatever the fuck I'm supposed to call you." Her voice is so steady, so full of humour, I almost believe that she isn't relieved.
"Clarke is—is fine," Ralph stammers, blushing.
"So," she says, leaning forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "'Bout that breach of contract penalty. There's no fucking skin off my nose here—youse lot really came through. I'm going off my suppressants right on schedule and not even losing a single fucking day."
She nods at Ralph, then at Allen. They nod back.
"I'm not gonna enforce the breach of contract clause. And I'm not gonna dob on you to the feds—so don't waste your time flagellating yourselves with paperwork."
Allen starts to say something, but Zeke elbows him in the ribs.
Ralph raises an eyebrow at Zeke. "Are you sure? Lauren, it's completely fair and you're entitled—"
"Nope. Wouldn't be fair at all." She stands up and folds her arms. "That being said, I can andwillchange my mind if you fuckers hurt her," she says flatly. "AfterI fucking gut youse."
Seb bursts out laughing. Loz grins at him. "I'm not fucking kidding about that, North Shore."
His laughter trails off. He clears his throat and runs his hand through his loose, sun-streaked curls. "Seems fair."
She nods, firmly. "Now, what's this I hear about a fucking poolhouse? You better be taking her somewhere better than that for her heat—"
