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“You’ll pick Gabe or Bennet and ensure that the other two are put in their places for the finale,” Anya concludes.
From somewhere inside me, a deep possessiveness rises, and I stand in my spot.
“I’ll pick one of the men as stipulated in my contract,” I say from between clenched teeth. “But I will not humiliate any of them. Not even as a joke.”
For half a second, no one speaks, my defiance taking them aback.
“Stella, sit down,” Jessie urges me in a low voice. “Please.”
“No! I’m not a trained pony, and I’m not going to sell out my friends for ratings,” I retort indignantly.
“Your friends?” Anya coos in that fake, sugary tone that makes my skin crawl. “Is that what they are?”
My brow furrows, and blood pumps through my veins at an alarming pace, my chest feeling warm.
Jessie hisses at me to sit down again, but I fully ignore her, fixing my eyes on Anya. “Yes. That’s what they are. Friends, real people with emotions and lives who deserve better than to be humiliated for likes.”
How I wish Gabe was here. In the back of my mind, I hear his sarcastic voice retorting, “Yes, Anya, friends. Just because you don’t have any, doesn’t mean others can’t.”
“Oh, honey, I think everyone in this room knows you’re more than that, aren’t you?”
Gooseflesh prickles my skin, and a denial springs to my lips, but I hold it back. “I’m not doing what you ask.”
Jessie makes a squeaking noise from her corner. The producers have gone completely stoic.
“You do realize that the house has cameras in it, don’t you?” Anya tells me.
I draw in a shuddering breath. “Yes.”
“It would be a shame if some of that footage got released to the public by accident, wouldn’t it? You with three men?”
My head spins as I try to think of a single moment when I had ever been with any of them in a compromising position in the common areas.
“I can see you trying to think of what we might have recorded,” Anya comments. “Let me assure you, it’s enough to damage your reputation so badly that you’ll never work in Hollywood again.”
My knees buckle, but I remain standing. “You can blackmail me all you want,” I rasp shakily. “I’m still not doing it.”
I catch the gleam of shock in Anya’s eyes, but she does not back down.
“Interesting,” she replies. “Maybe you don’t care about your own reputation because it’s non-existent, but think about what this could do to someone like Forrest.”
Now I do sit, my buttocks falling heavily into the chair.
“I see you’re starting to get it,” Anya chirps. “What’s worse? A couple of minutes of insults or an entire ruined career?”
My chin swivels toward Jessie, who now has nothing to say at all. She knew this was coming and didn’t warn me! Jessie may not have been my friend, but I thought she had more character than Roy or Anya or any of the other heartless producers who are motivated by money and ratings.
I fall back against the boardroom chair and look helplessly at the producers. “You are going to let this happen?” I breathe. “Are you monsters?”
All three shrug in unison.
“It’s not personal, babe,” the gray-haired woman tells me. “It’s all about the ratings. And with big names appearing in the show, costing us a fortune, we have to get advertisers’ dollars somehow.”
CHAPTER 27
Stella
I’m in a fog, a haze. Someone is speaking to me, but I can’t figure out who it is or what they’re saying.
