I have a full day of meetings and training ahead of me today, but my number-one priority is making sure Cassie is alright.

When you’re on the road like I am, you tend to feel out of your element really quickly, and you have to recalibrate to make yourself ease into your own element again. Ground yourself in something. It can be anything, really. The point is that when home is so damn far away, you need something to tether you to the ground or you’ll be swept out to sea like a boat with its sails all fucked up.

Or, at least that’s what Cassie’s always told me, if not in those exact words. I slide my hand into my back pocket and pull out an old, crumbled postcard she sent me from one of her competitions a couple of years ago. It had been post-marked six months prior to when I ended up seeing it, and it has a picture of the ocean on it.

Make sure you come home, wherever that might be.

That’s Cassie. That’s so fucking Cassie Blake.

I turn the card over in my hands before putting into my pocket, hearing a door shut down the hallway from where I’m standing.

She comes out of the secret room she’s had her meeting in, looking as sexy as all hell, even though I know the meeting was tense from the way she described the world of shit she’s in.

But she is smiling, so that sets my mind at ease immediately.

She’s with three older women. I recognize one of them from Cassie’s social media accounts. She’s Cassie’s manager or representative or something like that.

The other one is a hyperactive talking head on one of those gossip TV shows, the kind that has a veneer of class about it but speaks in the same judgmental tone toward celebrities’ personal lives as the most pernicious magazines do.

And the last one is an older woman, someone who carries herself with the air of a fucking boss.

This is the one that barrels toward me with a flurry of grace, something I never thought would be possible.

“Jason Anderson,” she drawls, putting a hand out to me. I put my hand out in turn to shake hers, completely confused as to why the hell this woman knows who I am.

“That’s me,” I say, shoving my hands into my pockets after her hand slips away from mine.

“Oh, he’s so cute,” the woman remarks, swatting Cassie softly on the shoulder. “I can see why you like this one!”

I smirk and send a sideways glance over Cassie’s way.

“So you like me?” I whistle.

“No,” Cassie says with an insistent tone, waving her hands in the air like a crossing guard saying I can’t go any farther for my own safety, “I mean, yes, but…”

“Young man,” the woman says, “we have a business proposition for you. It’s something I think you will be very interested in.”

* * *

“Okay,” Cassie says, slipping into the room behind me. She shuts the door and we go over to the bed, where she perches carefully on the edge and I lay down with my hands behind my head. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad, Cass,” I reply, “in fact, I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be flattered either,” she says, getting up from the bed. She begins to pace back and forth in front of me as I prop myself up on my elbows. “I’m sorry. I know this is like, a huge inconvenience for you. This is just panic mode for me basically.”

“Well, the nice ladies did say I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to,” I tease.

“Oh…” she trails off, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Of course you don’t have to do this. I’m sorry, I guess I just assumed…”

“Assumed that after last night I’d be unable to say no to you?”

“No,” she says.

I rise from the bed in front of her and wrap my arms around her shoulders. “It’s okay. I’ll go along with this. Come on Cassie, you know I’d do anything for you.”

She softens under my touch and pulls away slightly. I just want to take her in my arms and tell her we should blow off this whole fucking pageant, tell them to go shove the crown up their asses, because she’s better than this and doesn’t need it. But it’s important to her, and that means it’s important to me.

“You’d do anything for me?” she says, walking over to the small dresser near the window. “Would you eat a Hawaiian pizza for me?”

“Please Cassie, now you’ve crossed the line,” I quip. “Pineapple and ham? Together? On a pizza? That’s like, some serial killer shit.”

“Okay,” she sighs, taking a brush from her dresser and beginning to drag it through her long, perfect blonde locks. “I understand. It’s a good thing this is all just fake. It would never work out between us.”

I walk over and stand behind her, putting my hands on her shoulders. She catches my eye in the mirror and looks away quickly.

“I still have that meeting this morning with that reporter,” she says, busying herself with a bottle of perfume on the dresser. “Would you go with me?”

“You’re still meeting that psycho?” I ask. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Cass.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna still meet with her,” she sighs. “At this point I just have to follow the path of least resistance. Go with the flow. I can’t afford any more hiccups. And that means if I have a meeting with a reporter, I show up.”

“Can I least give her a piece of my mind?”

“No,” she says, “please don’t do that. That is the literal last thing I need. A confrontation with this woman? Please.”

“Fine,” I say, “whatever you want. You’re in charge.”

“So,” she says, taking a big breath, “we should probably define the parameters of our relationship.”

“Oh,” I say, “that sounds so official. Is that your idea of dirty talk?”

She just shakes her head and laughs as she slides off her sandals, trading them in for a pair of something else from her closet. The new shoes have a little bit of a heel. She always liked feeling taller.

“Back to the parameters of our relationship,” I say, “like you were saying before. Clearly, what happened last night has to happen regularly. And clearly I have to buy you a ring. It might just be a ring-pop, but it’s going to be big.”

“About that,” she says, pacing over to her closet, “I know it seems a bit silly, but we have to...how do I say this? We have to pretend last night never happened, at least just for the time being.”

I feel like a spear has gone through my damn heart.

“Can I ask why?” I say.

“The pageant is very conservative, like I was saying earlier. They can’t have me showing any hint of impropriety.”

“Even with your own fiancé?”

“Even with my own fiancé,” she says, turning to look at me.

“That’s not a problem,” I reply, “I’m just gonna have to sneak into your room at night.”

She gives me a sexy little groan and goes over to the door as I follow.

I’ll make this woman want me so fucking bad that she’s gonna be begging me to sneak to her room. Begging me to crawl into bed with her and slide between her legs just like I did last night. She’s gonna be panting all night long and screaming my name. I’ll make sure of it.

Because this woman cuts me straight to the bone, and now that I’ve had a taste, I don’t think I’m ever gonna be able to let her go.

Impropriety? I’ll show her impropriety.