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“Chill out, princess. I wasn’t going to say that.”
“Oh, yeah? Then what were you going to say?” She sucks in her cheeks. It looks like she’s sucked on a sour lemon, and I must refrain from laughing at her.
“I was going to say you can work for me.”
Her eyes practically bug out of her head. “Oh, yeah, ’cause that would go over well.”
For fuck’s sake . . . what are you doing, Paxton?
The idea flew out of my mouth without a single thought. I’m not one to make rash decisions, but when it comes to Mallory, all sense leaves the building. Taking the computers, the desk, even the planted flower half dead on the windowsill with it.
My hand reaches out, and my fingers skim down her arm. “I wouldn’t know. It would be a gamble.”
“Must be nice not having overbearing parents.” She scoffs as I continue to trace small designs into her soft skin.
“It’s great. I love my parents. They’re the best.” I blow out a breath. “What does your father have to do with this? Why does he have any control over where you work?”
“He doesn’t. I just mean . . . he has a lot of clout in the industry. Connections with people in high places. I’m afraid he’d come after your business out of spite.”
I shrug. He might have connections, but so do I. He can do his worst, and I still will come out all right.
“He can’t touch me,” I say, sounding arrogant to my own ears but not giving a fuck. I need her to know that I can protect her. Even from him.
“Must be nice.”
I halt my movements and meet her snarky gaze. “It actually is. My world is wonderful. You’re free to join it.”
“I can’t with you.” She places her free hand over mine, giving me a small squeeze. “Tell me about them.”
I pull a face, not knowing what she’s asking.
“Your parents?” she prompts.
My confusion melts away, and a huge smile takes its place.
“They’re great. I love them dearly.”
She smashes her lips together, not satisfied with my answer.
“What’s there to tell about my family . . . ? I’m one of five kids. Three brothers and on sister. But we’re boring compared to what you’ve probably seen.”
“Boring is good.”
“It is,” I agree. “Mom’s a teacher at the high school I attended. Dad works at the marina.”
“Cold Spring Harbor, right?”
“Yeah.” I’m shocked she remembered that.
“What’s it like there?”
I bring up an image of my hometown and smile like an idiot. Home is special to me. Home is where I truly want to be if my job didn’t require me to be where the talent is.
“Beautiful. Truly one of the best places on earth. Although bigger and more lively towns surround it, it still feels quaint and untouched by the world. Almost like a secret.”
“How did you end up this big-deal talent agent?”
I smirk. “Oh, so you admit I’m a big deal?”
“Shut it. Jeez, I can’t take you anywhere. But, really. What’s your story? You already know mine.” There’s no hiding the bite in her voice.
She’s soaking up my life because hers has been lacking. She’s the daughter of a man whose work is more important to him than she’ll ever be. She’s purely a pawn in his scheme to dominate Hollywood.
I’ve heard around town how he talks about Mallory. Like she’s a chess piece. A way to ensure his legacy lives on.
I move my hand, placing my fingers on her chin. “I’m sorry, Mal.”
She offers a sad smile. “It’s fine.”
We both go silent because we both know she’s lying. It’s not all right.
I close my eyes and think back to how this all started. How I first crossed paths with her father. How I was burned and thus waged a war against this woman, who, in a short time, has rocked me to the core.
“The things I love about the town I grew up in, I hated when I was eighteen. I needed to get away, so I went to school in the farthest state I could think of, California. UCLA. I made some friends. Lots of Hollywood kids. Nepo babies, to be exact.”
She pulls a face, hating that term because it’s what she’s been accused of her whole life.
“Most of them wanted to follow in their parents’ footsteps. One thing led to another, and with a stocked Rolodex, I tried to work with your dad.” I pause, opening my eyes and looking at Mallory, who’s watching me intently. “You sure you want to hear this?”
“Yes.”
Clearing my throat, I continue. “I was dumb when I pitched myself. I pitched the clients I would bring and the connections I had. I showed all my cards . . . and your father exploited that. He made me believe I had a job there and, well, poached my clients.”
