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I arched an eyebrow. “Like what?”
“Like whatever he asks of you. And everything that he doesn’t. You need to read his mood, Mrs. Windsor. Help him when he cannot help himself.” She bowed her head. “Good luck with your meeting.” She clicked down the hall in her black maid’s uniform, and I wanted to run in the opposite direction, screaming. What did Hazel want from me, anyway? She had more to say about my relationship with Bryce than anyone. Why did she make me feel like Iwasn’tgiving him my best? Or maybe she thought my best wasn’t good enough…
Sighing, I went out to the patio. Olivia Jensen looked impossibly pulled together for eight in the morning. She wore a form-fitting black jumpsuit, platform sandals, full makeup, and her hair was perfectly blown out. Maybe Midge was moonlighting and doing Olivia’s hair and makeup instead of mine?
Her laptop was open, and she had yet another giant iced coffee in front of her. She smiled warmly as I joined her. “Boy am I glad to see you,” she said. “I was worried you were going to run away after that scene last night!”
“Gene’s tough, but I know that Bryce needs me right now. I’m here for him. I’ll do whatever it takes to support him.”
“I love it.” Her smile widened. “And frankly, that’s exactly what I was hoping you’d say.”
“Oh.” I nervously sipped my coffee. The run-in with Hazel had left me rattled; how Olivia looked at me wasn’t helping. “What do you need?”
She turned her laptop around to face me. There was a picture of Mimi and Michael Jones on the screen, a shot from yesterday at the pool club. Mimi Jones looked down at us with disgust; Michael Jones looked pale as a ghost. Olivia clicked and showed me the following picture. It was of Felicia Jones in a bikini, basking in the sun on the deck of her boat.
My stomach twisted. “Why are you showing me this?”
“Because of this.” She clicked to the picture published the day before—the one at the restaurant of Felicia Jones staring longingly at Bryce. “Guess which image and text got the most clicks in the past twenty-four hours? This one of Felicia.‘The honeymoon’s over for ex-flame.’People went bananas over it!”
“Okay.” I licked my lips. “How is that helping Bryce save his company?”
“Because there’s high engagement. Overall, the family is testing super well.”
“The family’s testing well because of thefamily—right? Not because of Felicia Jones.” I hated even saying her name.
“It’s not her per se,” Olivia said. “It’s because people lovedrama. Last night when the results came in after your interview, andyoutested so well, I had an inkling this might be a hook. And when I got the report this morning about which link got the most hits? Iknewwe had a winning angle. People like you, Chloe.”
Olivia looked straight into my eyes. “And they’re already curious about Felicia. They’re asking questions like, what does Chloe have that Felicia doesn’t? How does an heiress feel about losing out to a girl from the wrong side of the tracks? Is Bryce still interested in his ex?”
I felt like I might throw up. Olivia must’ve sensed my discomfort because she patted my hand. “We both know that he’s not. I can tell just by the way he looks at you! But that doesn’t matter. Whatmattersis getting the public invested in the Windsor family. Think about it like the royals—every article talks about their personal lives, their drama. But most of it’s a lie.”
“I don’t like lying.”
“And I’m not asking you to lie.” Olivia squeezed my hand. “All I’m asking you to do is go along with my plan.”
She looked like the cat who was about to swallow the canary.
I bit my lip, waiting—scratch that,dreading—to hear precisely what Olivia Jensen had in mind.
TWENTY-FIVE
extreme measures
I licked my lips.“What ’s your plan, Olivia?”
“To work with what I’ve got.” She looked thoughtful as she tapped her fingers against the table. “Like I said, I want the public foaming at the mouth for glimpses into your lives. I need to feed the machine. But in order to feed it, it’s got to be hungry! And the Felecia-Jones angle will make it crave more. Is she really dating that guitar player? Is Chloe jealous of her? Is there some sort of revenge plot on either side?”
I swirled the remaining coffee in my cup. It had gone cold.
“This is low stakes, Chloe. Think about it. With celebrity love triangles, it’s safe for the public to play judgeandjury. The people clicking on these articles are in the cheap seats—they don’t actually have any real stake in the outcome, so there’s zero risk for them to be invested. In real life, being the other woman will get you a brick thrown through your window, or probably worse. On the internet, the bricks are nasty comments on social media. And anyone can throw them. Peoplelovethis shit!”
“It doesn’t have anything to do with the company, though.” I frowned. Olivia wasn’t convincing me that this was a good idea. “I don’t think more drama looks good for the family.”
“It doesn’t matter if it looks good. It matters if it gets peoplelooking. I need obsession, Chloe—Kardashian-level obsession. I promise that if I run these pictures of Mr. and Mrs. Jones looking angry, and then Felicia in her bikini, and I pitch some sort of copy, like…let me think…” Olivia drummed her fingers on the table for a moment. “Ooh, like this: ‘Heiress ex-girlfriend wants him back bad’—I guarantee the public will go bananas.Thatwill drum up the interest I’m looking for. It will also get you invited onto the morning talk-show circuit. Everyone will tune in to see if you have something to say, some dirt to dish about Felicia Jones.”
“No.” I shook my head. This was literally my worst nightmare.“No.”
“Chloe.” Olivia Jensen closed her laptop. “What if I told you that both Bryce and Gene Windsor approved this?”
