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“Oh, thank God,” she gushes. “I gambled you’d come straight here and won. I really have to talk to you. I’ll ride down with you.” She joins me inside the car, and she turns her attention to the keyboard, punching the already lit lobby button, a sure sign she is as nervous as I am agitated with the both of us right now. I swear to God, she tests my vow not to touch her again just by existing.

The doors close and at this point, we’re sealed inside the car, just the two of us, and between that dress on her banging body and the scent of her perfume, my cock is at attention. That part of my body would like very much to fuck her against the elevator wall or anywhere else, for that matter, but that’s not going to happen, not with Bella. Because my fantasies about Bella are not fantasies at all when they lead to a place where she is broken, even if she leaves me bloody in the process. Which may well be her true intent now. “Say your piece, Bella.”

She glances over at me. “I’ll wait until we’re out of the car. I’m paranoid about cameras.”

In other words, this urgent matter remains about Dash, not last night. As for the cameras, she’s not paranoid. We represent some of the biggest talents in the world, including her brother. The floors tick by and she fidgets with her perfectly manicured hands twisting in front of her, a nervous habit that isn’t a habitat all. Bella doesn’t fidget. Except now. With me. The elevator is quick about its job and the doors open at lobby level.

I hold the door and motion Bella forward. She steps outside into the lobby and rotates to wait on me. When I exit and keep walking toward the elevator leading to the garage, she quickly falls in step with me. “There’s a new studio head with a reputation for killing big projects before they hit the red carpet.”

Fuck, I think, but what I say is, “How new?”

“Three weeks.”

We pause at the elevator bank, and I punch the garage-level button. “And I’m just now hearing this?”

“Week one seemed as balmy as a beach day. Week two turned to winter. Week three, which is now, is going straight to hell.”

The elevator doors open. I motion her forward and step inside, biting back a few rather critical questions with those cameras still at the core of my silence. Instead, I punch the proper button, and Bella joins me. She glances over at me and solemnly says, “It’s bad, Tyler.”

Probably not a bad as she thinks, I remind myself. This deal is personal for her because of Dash, and an overreaction to a negative turn in negotiations is natural. That type of connection to a deal this big hypes every potential problem to new levels, which I know well because I worked for my father most of my adult life. And my father made sure the board felt as if I worked all for them, and just them. It was brutal but it did shape me into the man I am today. And that man knows how to run this operation.

The elevator dings again and the minute the doors open, Bella hurries out and into the garage. turning to wait on me again. The minute I join her she says, “He’s stripping the contract. Dash lost his role as a scriptwriter and no longer has casting approval.”

“Tell them that’s unacceptable.”

“This is me, Tyler. Do you really think I didn’t push back? This guy is not moving. And I could get one of these things past Dash, but not both. I haven’t told him any of this is going on. I know him. He’ll pull out, and I’ve heard stories of this studio head. He goes after those who wrong him, and everything that doesn’t go his way has a wrong attached.”

“The studio isn’t going to be stupid enough to lose Dash.”

“This is Hollywood, not Nashville. These people walk away from massive money all the time.”

“What about the second studio that was bidding on the deal? Can you go back to them and leverage two studios against each other?”

“I made the foolish mistake of telling one of the studio execs how much Dash hates the other studio, as in everything about them. They didn’t sit right with him creatively.” I hold up a hand. “In my defense, I thought the deal was done. I now know it’s never done until it’s playing on screens.” She waves me onward. “Now tell me how stupid I am because I know. Believe me, I know.”

It wasn’t smart, but Bella is anything but stupid. “How close to falling apart?”

“Seconds. And I’m scared, Tyler. I can’t screw this up for Dash. Or you. All things aside, this company has been good to me. You trusted me with very little experience and here I am, proving that as a risk.”

She’s scared. Those words have never come out of Bella’s mouth, at least not to me. And I know why. It’s about family, something she values, and I generally tolerate. I get along with my mother, but she lives in her own world, not one that is shared with anyone else, including me. She’s still in Europe and her portion of the will has been read, while mine has waited months to finally be revealed this morning. I don’t even know when thefuck my mother is coming back to the States, or if she’s coming back at all.

“I can’t fail, Dash,” Bella says, dragging me back to the moment.

“You’re letting emotion and fear win, which is not like you. Step off the ledge, Bella, unless you intend to jump into the shark-infested waters and get eaten alive.”

“I have no strategy at this point, no angle to work.”

“Objectively, do you feel your personal involvement has impacted the deal negatively?" I ask, forcing her to see what I already know. She’s the best thing Dash has on his side.

“I’ve analyzed myself over and over,” she replies, “and I don’t think I’d do anything differently with another client. I feel like my connection to Dash has pros and cons. The pros…I know Dash. I know what he will say yes or no to. I influence him and calm him. The con is that I don’t want this to fall apart, and they know it.”

“No agent wants this kind of deal to fall apart.” I glance at my watch and I’m already late for this reading. “I have to go. Text me the studio head’s name. Let me call in a few favors and get the inside scoop on him.”

“I think I need a second hand in this, a good cop, bad cop kind of situation. And you do the bad cop so well.” Her cheeks flush and I know why.

We both clearly remember the whole “Am I bad?” thing from last night. The fact that the memory only makes me want to show her how bad I really am by lifting her skirt and licking her all over again is not working toward the whole never touching her again vow.

“I need to go. I’ll come find you this afternoon when I get back to the office.” I start to turn, and Bella catches my arm. My gaze lands searchingly on her face and she jerks her hand back.

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