The Consequence of Seduction

The only positive about my situation was that I didn’t have to act. There was no forced emotional attachment because it was already there.

So when cameras flashed and people asked us about our relationship, I squeezed his hand because I felt something. I giggled when he kissed my cheek because he made me laugh.

And when Reid wrapped an arm around my shoulder and kissed my head, I sighed while longingly gazing up into his eyes like he’d just promised me a Kardashian-style wedding with Max as the officiant.

Because let’s be honest, Max wouldn’t want it any other way.

The club was something right out of a futuristic movie set. Lights—green, red, blue—flashed all over the place, and the entire effect was enough to give me a headache, which in turn made me feel extremely old.

“Up here,” Max yelled back at us as we made our way to the fifth level of the club. It was more private and overlooked the main floor. VIP tables were scattered upstairs along with a separate DJ and bar. Everything was blanketed in cool blue and violet colors. We made our way into a semiprivate room.

The colors were even dimmer in that room, blues and whites filling the floor-to-ceiling LED screens.

“You like?” Max turned around in a circle. “We can actually customize the room to look anyway we want.”

“Nice.” Reid nodded, then checked his watch.

I elbowed him; he winked back.

Oh, dear.

I swallowed dryly and folded my hands across my lap. That lasted all of five seconds before Reid grabbed one hand and placed a glass of champagne in the other.

“What are we toasting to?” Reid asked the group, not taking his eyes off me.

“Marriage,” Max shouted. “And real orgasms, none of that fake shit you guys keep trying to sell me every night.”

“Huh?” Colton asked. “They perform for you?”

“Not in that capacity, psycho.” Max rolled his eyes. “I say we make a toast to Reid’s career. If this weekend goes like I think it’s going to go, you two kids are one marriage away from an Academy Award.”

Reid chuckled, then lifted his glass higher. “So, to success?”

“Success.” We all lifted our glasses. The champagne tasted bitter, not smooth. But maybe it was me, I was the problem.

Because every publicist wanted success for their client. You’d be stupid not to—well, stupid and most likely homeless. But that wasn’t the point.

Was it so wrong that I wanted to sabotage Reid? That for the first time in my life I wanted my client, his talent, all to myself? Why share him with the world when they would never appreciate the man he really was? And why take the chance that once he was in the public eye—fully in the public eye—they’d ruin him anyway?

“Hey.” Reid tilted my chin toward him. “No frowns tonight.”

“Sorry.” I managed to smile. “Just thinking about work.”

“Don’t.” He set my glass down and reached for my other hand. “Does this feel like work?”

“Well, no.”

“Hmm.” Without warning he grabbed the back of my head and fused our mouths together, his tongue invading without proper invitation, just dominating me until I felt breathless for more. “And this? Is this work?”

I leaned forward for another kiss. “If it is, can I get overtime?”

Reid smirked, then kissed me again and again, peppering light kisses across my mouth that had me nearly crawling into his lap just so I could get closer, experience more.

“For once in your life,” he whispered above the music, “don’t overthink . . . this isn’t about my career or about yours. Let’s make tonight about us.”

Max shouted, “Ohana!” above the music, then pointed at both of us as if to remind us that there would be no skipping out.

“And Max.” Reid nodded solemnly. “Because if we don’t include him, he’ll just include himself and then I’m going to kill him and we really will land in a Vegas prison.”

I returned Max’s point with a wave and sighed against Reid. “Think when he’s married he’ll cut off the apron strings?”

“If not I’ll just burn them,” Reid said thoughtfully. “Or maybe just drop him off on a farm so he has space to run.”

“He’d like a farm.”

“Well, he finally likes animals again, so it just might work out.”

“I’m not going to ask.” I laughed against his chest. “I’m afraid of every answer where Max is concerned.”

The music swirled around us, some crazy techno beat that had Max and Becca bumping and grinding way too close to where I was sitting. The LED screens switched to a dark red that matched my dress; the air felt electric, alive with possibilities.

“You know . . .” Reid whispered in my ear above the music. “I used to be in a boy band.”

“I know.”

“I was their best dancer.”

“Were you?” I bit my bottom lip to keep myself from laughing. “Prove it.”

“Thought you’d never ask.” He stood and held out his hand, like a gentleman.

Laughing, I took it, thinking he’d swing me around and we’d share a joke about how we’re old and don’t know how to dance or expend that type of energy anymore.

Instead, Reid started slowly rolling his hips behind mine.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to run away or press against him.