I arrive at JK Investments with the usual irritation. Jonas had called the condo too early. Last night had been the typical one for me. After our make-up scene, I’d spent the next evenings escorting Liesa from one party to another, catering to her manufactured moods. We’d made out for the camera. I’d tried and failed to get her into bed. She’d burst into tears, asked me to be patient. I’d promised her I would.

Blah, blah, blah.

Nightmare Groundhog Day.

Before Jonas’s call ruined my day, I’d been dreaming, one of those vivid storylines that are so real they could be happening. It was about Kylie and I never wanted to end but it vanishes in a split second. His ringtone, the Imperial March from Star Wars, takes the place of Kylie’s sighs and my groans of pleasure.

When I punch it on and hold it to my face, it takes two tries to make my voice work. “Jonas.”

“Hey, Sport. Get your duds on and get over here.” He sounds serious.

“Why?” I push the question through my teeth. Since finding out that Knightly is Kylie’s father I’ve developed a distinct lack of tolerance for his usual good ‘ol boy routine.

“Ratings came in this morning and the score is not good. We need to rattle the cage and I need you on the team.” Jesus. He sounds almost happy about it. Which immediately makes me wonder what he’s got cooking. “We’ll talk more when you get here.”

“Whatever.” I hang up and drop my phone on the floor, willing myself to get out of bed instead of rolling back over and closing my eyes.

For Kylie.

That’s the thought that finally pushes me out of bed and into the bathroom.

For Kylie.

Even if she hates me.

Even if it’s over between us—and it is over.

Kylie’s made that clear. She doesn’t want to see me again. I’ve called her practically nonstop since she threw me out of the hospital. Left enough voicemails to qualify for the Stalker Hall of Fame. The last time I called, the electronic voice on the other end of the line informed me that her mailbox is full.

She’s not even listening to my messages.

Isn’t even bothering to delete them.

So, it’s over.

It has to be.

Because the only way out is through. I’m going to get Liesa into my bed on national television and be the most famous boyfriend in the world. Even if I had a goat fuck’s chance in hell of making it work, she’ll take one look at the projected season finale and see me for the money-grubbing shit I really am.

I grab a shirt from the closet that I’ve never seen before. Guess Mom was out shopping again. New cargo shorts fill a drawer and I pick out a khaki pair. It makes me feel like a kid, but I let her do it because I hate to shop and it makes her feel useful. I make a mental note to tell her how much I appreciate her.

The Interchangeable Receptionists man their stations. The look like robots, with their perfectly passive personalities and flawless bodies, immaculate makeup and hair, never wavering in their black or white stilettos. I stop a second to admire the ocean view from the wall of windows in the lobby. The sea breeze ruffles palms and the water sparkles blue heading out the horizon. Kylie would love the way it looks, so calm and inviting. She’d probably imagine the whole world going on beneath the surface. I picture her eyes lighting up and the smile playing across her lips.

The upstairs bot waves me down the hall into Jonas’s office. God, I have to get thoughts of Kylie under control.

I open the door of Jonas’s paneled office to a crowded room. Jonas sits behind his desk, leaned back in his customary casual posture. Jeri and Tom lounge on the leather sofa, both have their giant travel mugs to their lips, no doubt starting in on their first gallon of caffeine for the day. Wearing a colorful peach and black hibiscus print sundress, Liesa dangles a flip-flop from her crossed leg, bouncing it up and down with irritation or impatience. I’m sure to find out which very soon.

A well-coiffed woman sits next to Liesa. She wears a white linen suit, the skirt hiked up her thigh, the cami under her jacket plunging far enough to show tits way perkier than her age should allow. Although, if I hadn’t known her approximate age, I’d never guess it. Judicious plastic surgery and body sculpting create a special magic. She twists her long neck my way to deliver an irritated frown in my direction.

Jonas waves at me. “There’s our boy.”

“Nice of you to join us,” the woman assesses me with a slow scan from head to flip-flops.

This must be Simone.

Jonas indicates the woman, as totally robot-worthy in appearance as the Interchangeable Receptionists. “Simone, this is Zach Lowery. Zach, this is Simone, your future mother-in-law, if all goes well.”

Then let’s pray for disaster.

This is a meeting I’ve been dreading since I was indentured to this goddamned circus. “Simone. Glad to meet you in real life.” I think I’m getting good at lying.

Liesa folds her arms and stares straight ahead.

Simone barely acknowledges me. “Let’s get to business,” she grumbles.

I take an empty chair next to Liesa, obviously left for me. I’d like to talk to her about the hospital or Kylie, or, I don’t know, figure out a plan. “Morning, Liesa.”

Liesa’s jaw twitches but she shows no other sign of hearing me. Jeri watches everything, her mind turning behind her calculating eyes.

Jonas raises an amused eyebrow and I can only guess what he’s thinking about our relationship.

The frost on Simone melts a little and she quits frowning. “One thing you’ll learn about me, Zachary, is that I appreciate promptness and professionalism.”

First of all, I hate being called Zachary. Secondly, this bitch is not someone I care about pleasing. “I’ll try not to disappoint you.”

Jonas claps his hands and leans forward. “Okay, let’s get down to business.”

Liesa still hasn’t looked at me and aside from that bouncing flip-flop, hasn’t moved at all.

Simone licks her lips and addresses me. “We brought you on board to increase ratings. You’re supposedly Liesa’s boyfriend, but I’m not seeing any real chemistry going on.”

Again, Liesa’s jaw twitches.

Jonas takes over. “Not only have ratings not gone up, they’re actually down.”

Of course, ratings are down. We’ve been dragging this will they or won’t they storyline along for months now. People are bored shitless. I should probably point that out, but I don’t because I have zero interest in rushing it along.

Maybe they’re going to fire me.

I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not.

As if he’s reading my mind, Jonas gives me a sly grin. “Your contract stipulates that if you’re fired for cause, in this case, the ratings not increasing as outlined in the contract, you don’t get paid or get your trust fund.”

Simone’s voice sounds petulant and demanding, exactly like her TV personality. “I don’t give a flying fuck about your contract. I do, however, have a vested interest in the success of Liesa’s Life. So, what do you intend to do about the ratings?”

Murder. Millions would tune in to see Simone strangled.

Jonas’s wolf smile encompasses the whole room. “That’s why we’re here. Everyone in this room needs to understand how important it is to improve our ratings. Obviously, for Liesa and Simone, keeping the show in the top ten is vital. For me, it represents 30% of JK’s investment portfolio. The rest of you, Zach, Tom, and Jeri, make no mistake, it matters. Because if they don’t increase by 15% in the next month, you will all be fired. For Zach, that means loss of a fortune apportioned to him by three generations of Lowerys. For Tom and Jeri, it means me blackballing you from ever working in television again.”

The room falls silent. Except for the pop, pop, pop of Liesa’s flip-flop.

Jonas slaps his palm on the smooth desktop. “Brainstorm, team. What have you got?”

Jeri leans forward. “As I see it, the problem is Zach.”

Tom nods. “Yep. Zach.”

Jonas focuses on me. “What have you got to say to that?”

“Me? I’m doing what you asked me to do.”

Simone leans forward to see me clearly around Liesa’s rigid form. “No, dear. You clearly are not. As Liesa’s first real boyfriend, you’re supposed to build the heat and sexual tension.”

Liesa closes her eyes for a split second as if absorbing a blow.

I need—in Jonas’s terms—to get the big D going. “We’re building the tension.”

Jonas taps the desk with his index finger as if keeping time. “You’re putting viewers to sleep.”

Liesa’s flip-flop keeps a beat in opposition to Jonas’s finger. She still doesn’t speak.

So much for being on the same team. She seems fine with letting the lions eat me. “I thought the point was to show us falling for each other. Start out sweet then add the heat.”

Jeri decides to throw a barb at me again. “What I’m seeing on the dailies is you being bored. You seem to be dragging along in a half-drunk state and couldn’t get it up even if Liesa gave you the go-ahead.”

Liesa’s shoulders stiffen.

Damn it. My shirt feels damp and I fight the urge to wipe sweat from under my nose. “I thought you wanted the big event to happen at the end of the season? That’s still a couple of weeks away.”

Simone stands and props her—way too tight for a middle-aged—ass against Jonas’s desk. “Let’s quit pussy-footing around here. We might have thought our viewers would be drawn in with a romance and old-fashioned courting. But we were wrong. They want drama and fucking.”

Liesa’s eyes squeeze closed and stay that way.

Jonas lifts amused eyebrows to Simone. “Not to put too fine a point on it.”

Liesa isn’t always my favorite person, but this sucks for her. “Hey, we’re not cattle at auction. We’re real people with real lives. Not porn stars to perform on demand.”

Simone gives me a deadpan glance, then ignores me to focus on Liesa. “You did explain to him how this works, right? The term for what we are creating might be reality TV but there’s very little real about any of it.”

Liesa stares ahead, her eyes focus on something beyond Jonas’s head.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Simone says and lurches from the desk corner. “What the hell is wrong with you two? You’re young and gorgeous. It’s only natural you’d be panting all over each other.” She points a finger at me. “Are you gay?”

“No.” I give her a bland smile.

“Look at him.” She turns her fire on Liesa. He’s hot. “You should be all over him.”

Liesa finally speaks, her voice low and dangerous. “Mother, please.”

“Please what?” Simone paces behind Jonas. “Jonas and I have created this empire and I’m not going to stand idle and watch you piss it away because you think you’re tired of the fame and you’re fatigued by the shooting schedule. When I was your age, I was working three—”

“Jobs!” Liesa jumps out of her chair. “Yes. I know. And you gave up everything for me. You didn’t sleep for six years so you could work and save and pay for acting lessons. It’s my turn now to pay you back for the sacrifices you made to give me the good life.”

Simone’s face contorts to a mask of rage. “You ungrateful little bitch.” She whips her arm out to encompass the office and probably the whole world. “Look at all of this. It’s because of me thinking ahead, pushing you. Your life is better than mine in every way. And I provided it for you.”

Liesa retreats behind the sofa where Tom and Jeri sit sipping their coffee. They don’t look nearly as horrified as I feel at this explosion.

“You provided it for me.” Liesa’s voice rises. “Yes, thank you, Mother. Because of your far-thinking and planning, I now work every single day, one job, sure, but twenty-four hours.”

Simone lifts her lip in scorn. “You poor baby. Having to work in a luxury home on the ocean and get laid by someone who looks like that.” She points at me like I’m a piece of meat and I have to grip the armrest of my chair to keep myself from lunging out of my seat.

Liesa folds her arms. “And I have you to thank that no matter how much we keep working, our debt keeps growing. How much did that new bag set us back, Mother?”

Simone narrows her eyes. “Not nearly enough to pay me back for having to deal with you.”

Jonas stands behind his desk. “Okay. That’s enough. Save it for the show. We’re here to brainstorm ideas to kick-start this yawn of a show.”

Jeri sets her coffee on the table in front of her. “Zach moves into the house.”

The room goes silent, not even Liesa’s flip-flops tapping.

When she has everyone’s attention, she continues. “And we add a storyline with Simone, get some friction going between her and Zach. There’s chemistry there.”

I can’t stay quiet for that bullshit. “No. There’s no chemistry with Simone and me and I don’t see where me moving into Liesa’s house will even be logical.”

That crafty grin spreads across Jonas’s face and he starts to nod. “I’m seeing this work.”

Simone looks at me like a dog eyes a bone. “We haven’t worked the jealousy angle yet.”

Liesa stares at both of them with her jaw dropped open. “You. Cannot. Be serious.”

Jeri claps with enthusiasm. “We can have Liesa and Simone trying to out-flirt each other.”

Fuck me.

I get to my feet to join the rest. “Don’t I get a say in this?”

In solidarity I’ve never seen them show, Liesa, Jonas, and Simone all turn to me. “No.”

Tom tips his coffee cup in my direction with a subtle look of sympathy.

Jeri studies Simone, then shifts her gaze to Liesa, and then slides it to me, as if sizing us up for new clothes. She stays on me and tenses her lips, considering. “This is only going to work if you step up your game.”

I hold my hands out. “What’d I do wrong?”

She taps her finger on her chin. “No more drinking. You have to be engaged. Look horny, for god’s sake. You’re going to have these two women after you, act like you want them both.”

Simone casts a smoldering look through her lashes. “Oh, he’s going to want us. Don’t worry.”

Jonas chuckles. “Back off there, Mrs. Robinson.”

Jeri leans back on the sofa, still examining us and writing scenarios in her head. “The question is, who does our boy bag. The mother or the daughter?”

Damn. How will I ever get out of this circus? Liesa isn’t enough, now I have Cruella Deville on my ass. All I want is Kylie. Not famous, not rich, not batshit crazy.

One thought of Kylie, those long legs, her firm, tight ass, nipples like pebbles made in heaven, and I feel that twinge in my shorts. Embarrassed, even if no one can tell, I raise my eyes to see Jonas grinning, his focus on my dick. Maybe I hadn’t been as discrete as I’d hoped.

Jonas strides from behind his desk, as excited as a quarterback before the big game. He punches me in the arm. “This is going to be big.”

Emphasis on big.

“This is going to be sick,” I say.

Jonas laughs. “Exactly.”