Page 11 of The Fame Game


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He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I rush out of his office, through the busy hallways, and back to my desk.

Ash steps into my cubicle, scaring the hell out of me.

“Oh, my God.” I hold my hand over my heart and sigh. “You got to stop sneaking up on people.”

She tilts her head back and chuckles. “Sorry, babe.” Ash sits on the edge of my desk. “Are you fired?”

I shake my head. “Not yet. Burke gave me the go-ahead to pursue Nico.”

She raises her hand to give me a high-five.

“Was everyone watching?”

She nods.

“Burke’s giving me three months with Nico Chase.”

“And then what? Will you get fired if it doesn’t work out?”

I press my lips together, thinking over her question. “Honestly, I don’t know. He said I get three months. I didn’t even think he meant…” I let out a deep breath. “What if…?”

Ash gives my shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Don’t stress over it. You got this, woman.”

“Everyone deserves a second chance, right?”

“Oh, girl…” She sighs.

“Nico gets three months to prove he’s changed.”

“But has he?”

I roll my shoulders against the chair. “Perception is everything. It doesn’t have to be true. Nico just needs to make people believe it.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Not a clue,” I admit, and she howls with laughter. “But I’ll figure it out.”

I always do.

* * *

I pull up in front of the wrought-iron gates that wrap around Nico’s property. The last time I was here, I parked to the left of the tall hedges, eating snack-sized bags of chips and drinking warm cans of Coke. Now, I’m a guest. None of this feels real. One minute I’m shadowing Burke, and the next, I have my first client.

I push the button on the metal box, and a buzzing sound floats through the speakers. The massive gates that stretch above the bushes slowly creep open as I drive through them.

Nico insisted I meet him at his house. Stars expect everything how they want it and when they want it. And I’m not in the position to tell Nico no. I have to prove Burke wrong. Nico can flip the script on his career. We just need to write a different story.

I park in the circular driveway out front of the largest house I’ve ever seen. A garage is on the left side of the property, with Nico’s Maserati parked in front of it.

I gather my purse and the folder on the passenger seat. When I turn around, my hands full, Nico’s long legs are blocking the door.

He extends his hand to me. “Need some help?”

I don’t want to be rude and say no, so I give him the folder containing the documents he needs to sign. Nico shoves the folder under his arm and then helps me out of the car with the other. I glance up at the house, and my mouth drops open.

Nico laughs. “The look on your face is priceless.”

“So is this house,” I say in disbelief. “This place is incredible.”

“It’s not mine,” he shoots back without hesitation. “I’m moving next week.”

“I didn’t even know you could rent a mansion.”

I laugh so hard I accidentally snort. Yeah, that’s not at all cute. Way to make an ass of yourself in front of one of your favorite actors.

“It’s more common than you think,” Nico says, shutting my car door. “C’mon, I’ll give you the tour.”

I bite my lip, still staring up at the house in awe. “I’d love one.”

Nico grips my wrist and leads me toward the door, snapping my attention back to him. He looks gorgeous, his messy black hair gelled into place. His skin has a more olive tone than the other day. A tiny smile tugs at his mouth, and there’s a twinkle to his blue irises.

Nico shows me the living room first. The walls are slate gray, with a modern and airy feel. For a man, his house is unusually clean. I was expecting a frat house with women’s panties draped over chandeliers like The Playboy Mansion. But like most bachelor pads, he has a massive flat-screen television, complete with a surround sound system and a sectional couch that takes up much of the room.

In the dining room, there’s a table large enough to host The Last Supper with scripts scattered across it. Why does a single man need this much space to eat dinner?

I lift a screenplay from the top of the stack. “The writing in this one is good.”

“I’ve read it twice.”

“Do you want me to talk to the studio?”

He looks away and then shakes his head. “They already passed.”

“Their loss.” I drop the heavy paper into the pile. “I’ll find you something better.”

He cocks an eyebrow at me. “You think so? Because Vinnie has had little luck.”

I throw my hands onto my hips. “Well, I’m not Vinnie.”

His eyes travel down the front of my body. A smirk turns up the corner of his mouth, and a cute dimple creases his left cheek. “No, you’re not.”

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