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Amanda uses the cleavage trick on him too, practically lying on the table to make sure everyone gets an eyeful. “I don’t see why he has to be dragged around to a bunch of hospitals when he hates the idea. If he’s not enthusiastic about it, he won’t be able to fake it, and the campaign won’t work. He’d do just fine making a few appearances out and around town, making nice with people, signing autographs, acting like the great guy he is. I’d be happy to accompany him.”
I nod in relief. No cranky babysitter who mysteriously makes me hard as a rock, no kids asking me weird questions, no hospitals. “That sounds like it would be way more up my alley. I wouldn’t have to put on a front.”
“Well, that’s a shame, because it’s not going to accomplish jack shit except confirming for the reporters that you love to go out and party,” Ralph scowls at me.
Rowan has already dismissed me, pulling out an iPad and tapping away on it. Probably planning my whole life for me. Would she be tucking me into bed every night too?
Fuck. Fucking hell. I was hard again.
My God, I hate this woman already.
I shake my head at Ralph. “This really doesn’t work for me.”
“You know what doesn’t work for me?” Ralph says. “Getting phone calls in the middle of the night from the media about your latest party games. You know what I want to be doing in the middle of the night? One of two things. Sleeping or screwing my wife.”
“Uhh ...” I can’t really think of anything to say to that.
“Well, I certainly would be willing to accompany him to the hospitals, since that’s our plan.” Amanda smiles hopefully.
I idly debate, in my head, whether it would a be a terrible idea to sleep with her. Yeah, it would. She’s too eager, and I am not up for anything heavy right now. I also don’t find the idea any more exciting than the thought of a session with my hand. I mean, I’d enjoy it, but at least I don’t have to buy my hand breakfast and call it a cab afterwards.
“That’s Rowan’s plan,” Cecelia reminds her.
Freaking Rowan. My new nemesis.
I push my water bottle towards Rowan. “Would you like a drink of me? I hear I’m tasty and refreshing. Ouch,” I add, as Ralph kicks me under the table.
“You’re an HR nightmare, is what you are,” Ralph snarls at me.
“Thanks, I’m not the least bit thirsty.” Rowan meets my gaze with a challenging stare.
“I’ll take it.” Amanda snatches the water bottle and takes a sip. “Delicious.” She pushes it back towards me. She left a frosty pink lip print on the bottle.
I wink at her, just to annoy Rowan further. “Keep it.”
“Ooh. I will, thank you so much.” Amanda practically quivers with excitement.
Ralph shoves his chair back. “We’re done here, Mason. You will give your number to Rowan so she can contact you, and for the next eight weeks, you do whatever Rowan says. No exceptions, and I’d better not see any negative mentions of you in the news again, or else you’re benched, and you can take your free-agent ass to another team. If they’ll have you at this age.” I wince at the mention of age. It’s not lost on me that I’m approaching the end of my career. “Do you understand?”
He means it. Anger and hurt and frustration churn in my gut. I could just imagine the satisfaction it would give my father to see me flame out and fail.
I manage a pained smile and nod. “Yes, sir. I understand.”
I understand the assignment ... which is to annoy Rowan so much that she begs to taken off the job.
3
ROWAN
“Wow,Mason Raker’s babysitter. Living the dream, huh?” My bestie Shelby grins at me as we slide onto our bar stools at the Elevate Lounge, a popular bar in the East Village.
We’re lucky we have those stools; we happened to see two people leaving just as we approached the bar, and we pounced. It’s packed tonight like every night, full of the young, hip, and beautiful, and we have to raise our voices to be heard over the buzz of conversation. The air swirls with the scent of expensive perfume and scented vapes.
“Well, since dreams are technically the same things as nightmares ...” I give her a wry look. “I could introduce you if you want. You can’t let him drink alcohol or be seen with him in public, though.”
Shelby replies with a dramatic shudder. “Hard pass. I’m kind of friends with his ex, or at least we move in the same circles.” The circles she’s referring to are a group of gorgeous models in their late twenties and early thirties, all of whom came up in the industry together and work a lot of the same international shows.
“What was up with that breakup? Does he have any deep dark secrets I should worry about?” Please say no.
