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prologue
scarlett
…TWO MONTHS AGO
“You can’t spin in jeans, you know. You’ll get wicked thigh burn,” I tell the handsome but somewhat cold looking man who perches on the bike adjacent to me.
He smooths a hand through his hair, the color of night, silver sparking on the sides. He’s good looking and well dressed, and honestly, a bit too tall and built for the bike.
“I’m not spinning,” he says, his eyes pinched on me since he sat down. And now I’m starting to feel… uncomfortable.
“Look dude, I have mace in my bag, and I have a taser, and I have used both.” I fold my arms over my chest and narrow my eyes at him. He doesn’t intimidate me, he doesn’t know who I live with.
“I’m not gonna hurt you, I just want to talk,” he says, peering around conspicuously, keeping his voice low. “Lucy.”
The hairs on my neck rise.
“Lucy?” he questions.
“Yes,” I reply cautiously.
He draws his hand to his chest. “I’m Augustus Moore. I’m the director and CEO at Crave & Cure.” He waits a moment for this information to settle. I recognize the name Crave because for the last two years all the other girls at Jizzabelle have been going on and on about the lead star Tucker Deep, and how they wish he was signed to Jizz. I also recognize Crave because… they’re the Starbucks, while Jizzabelle is the coffee corner inside a gas station. I’ve heard of him, but I’ve never seen Augustus Moore until now though.
“I’ve heard of you,” I say, relaxing my shoulders, putting in a few lazy revolutions on the bike.
“I’ll cut to the chase. I know Pete Bryson is your partner, and I know you’re in contract at Jizz. But I want you at Crave.”
I shake my head. “He’d never go for that. Ever.” A chill rolls through my spine just thinking about what Pete will say when he hears about this conversation. I edge away from him, leaning uncomfortably off my bike. “You know what, Pete will hate that you’re doing this and honestly, I just don’t have it in me to be his emotional punching bag for three days over it.” Brutally honest but again, I’m too tired for this. I have to save my energy forhim.
Augustus doesn’t look surprised by my sighed admission. Instead, he captures my eyes with a heavy, pointed look. “You leave him behind, I’ll get you on your feet in a new place with a new contract, all dictated by you. Your terms plus the best medical and mental health care, pension and a 401K.”
I blink, completely taken aback by what he’s floating. Because he didn’t know—he couldn’t—but that's everything I need. A way out, and a way to take care of myself.
Pete’s promised me things that Augustus Moore can’t give me though. Things I want with all of my marrow.
“Listen, let’s go get a coffee and talk. Okay? I’ll sign an NDA just for the coffee, so you don’t have to worry about Pete finding out.”
My legs slow until the bike stops. “Why do you want me at Crave? Because I’m the top star? Or is this some dick measuring contest with Pete? Are you two like, enemies or something?”
He blinks at me with an expression of sheer confusion. Pulling a hand down his face he slips off the bike and stands before me, imposing but not intimidating. “I want you because they have you and they’re wasting all of your beauty and potential on scenes you’re clearly not enjoying. I think you would enjoy your job at Crave, feel safe in your scenes, and still be at the top.”
I swallow, a lump forming at the back of my throat. “How do you know I’m not enjoying scenes?”
Aug taps the center of his chest as he punctuates his words. “BecauseImake movies based on the importance of sexual empowerment andrespect, and my gut can tell when someone is trapped and miserable.” He steps even closer and rests his hand on mine, still gripping the bike. “Please have coffee with me. That’s all I ask.”
I’m frozen on the bike, too scared to move. Because if Pete finds out I had coffee with a competitor, another man,fuck, if he found out I so much as blinked without his permission, we’d have a fight.
I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of Jizz and being their toy, their show pony, their money making puppet. I’m tired, period, and right about now, I feel like I might finally be prepared to risk it all for a chance at something better.
“Alright,” I say, sliding off my bike, grabbing my bag off the floor. “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll listen.”
As we walk next door, I begin to fantasize about quitting Jizz and leaving Pete.
I keep my fingers crossed under my leg the entire time.
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