Name Your Price

Chapter 7

They spent about ten minutes unpacking together in the bedroom, mostly arguing over how to divvy up the hangers—Chuck relinquished five to her. Five! —before Olivia walked away, at the risk of snapping one and using it as a shiv. She decided to give him space with his precious clothes; she’d finish unpacking later. She didn’t have much time to kill anyway before a makeup team arrived to prepare her for the interview.

They set up in the bathroom—which did have two sinks, thank goodness—and attacked her with brushes and powders and sprays that left her glowing but wearing enough product to clear out an Ulta. When they finished, she blinked her false lashes at her reflection in the mirror. All made up, she bore an uncanny resemblance to her mother. One that settled an odd layer of discomfort over her like an itchy blanket.

The person who rigged her up with a microphone told her she had five minutes before she was needed out back. Though she’d interviewed her fair share of actors and visited plenty of sets, she felt completely out of her element being on the other end of the deal. She planned to spend those five minutes taking deep breaths and figuring out how to stop fidgeting.

So far, she was failing at both.

“Hey. You okay?” She heard a familiar voice from behind her.

She turned to see Chuck in the doorway. With the crew out in the backyard setting up, they were alone for the time being. She didn’t know where Chuck had been while she was pampered and prepped, but he looked good enough to taste. He’d changed into a cream button-down that complemented the short, silky blue dress she’d put on, and he’d left the top two buttons open and rolled the sleeves. Chuck was well aware of how to highlight his features.

In truth, Chuck was one giant feature. Head to toe, he didn’t have a bad angle.

Olivia felt her knees give for an embarrassing second. She swallowed the carnal urge she always got at the sight of him and remembered she was preparing to film an interview for a TV show largely because of him, and she was not entirely happy about it. Also, she wasn’t allowed to touch him.

She turned back to the mirror and tugged at her dress, letting her annoyance back in. “I’m fine. This just isn’t exactly my comfort zone.”

He stepped into the bathroom, and she became very aware of his presence behind her. No one had spritzed her with perfume, and they probably should have since she was nervously sweating, but Chuck smelled divine. Something spicy and fresh at the same time, layered over the smell she’d come to know as just him . She had to fight the urge to turn around and shove her nose into the familiar contours of his chest. “Ah, well, it’s mine, so I’m happy to give you some tips,” he said with a smug smile.

She watched her eyes roll a full loop in their reflection. “That won’t be necessary.”

A pause passed, and Olivia could feel every inch between her back and his front buzzing like an electrical storm. She could also feel his eyes taking in her appearance with a hunger that she hated to admit burned in her own belly.

“You look great,” he said, shyly, which was out of character for him. His compliment came off polite and like something one would say to someone they’d only recently met and had not yet crossed any boundaries with, and she and Chuck had crossed every boundary that existed.

She shot him a half glare in an effort to shield both her appreciation and reciprocal opinion and to remind him they’d laid ground rules.

“What?” he said with a sly grin. “There were no rules about compliments.”

“Well, maybe we should add some,” she said with a tilt of her chin.

His eyes took another indulgent tour of her curves. “Good idea. Especially if you’re going to walk around looking like this.”

Her cheeks burned. She turned around to face him. “Chuck, you can’t—”

He cut her off by gently cupping his hand over her mouth. His palm was warm and soft. He raised one finger to his own lips, pushing them out into a shushing shape, and shook his head. He took his hand off her mouth and pressed it over the tiny microphone clipped to her dress. Given its position and the cut of her dress, his hand rested right over her heart and halfway on her bare skin. She felt it blistering there. “Lesson number one: don’t say anything you don’t want people hearing when you’re wearing one of these. You never know who might be listening.”

She glanced down at his hand splayed against her chest, trying to gather her bearings, and reeling at the feel of his skin on hers. Of course , she thought, feeling foolish. Hot mics were the source of earth-shattering scandals. She didn’t even think that someone might have been listening.

She looked back up at Chuck and found a guarded earnestness in his eyes. “Got it. You better move your hand before they write us up for an infraction.”

He gave her a sly smile and dropped his palm.

Her chest felt as if it had been scorched, inside and out. She shook the feeling and moved for the doorway. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Chuck followed her. “Lesson number two: don’t say clichéd things like that.”

She glared over her shoulder and stepped into the bedroom. “Sorry I’m not up on the lingo with you and all the other C-list actors.”

“It’s B, and don’t say ‘lingo’ either.”

“Your narcissism is still intact, I see.”

“As is your self-righteousness.”

“Still leaving the seat up too?”

“Now more than ever.”

“Of course you are, because being inconsiderate is an intrinsic part of your personality.”

“I’m also still tall, and I know how you love to take offense to things I can’t change.”

“Olivia! Chuck! Right on schedule,” Parker greeted them when they came through the back door. He held his arms out like he planned to hug them, and they both blew right past him.

“I only want you to change the things that make me want to scream,” Olivia snapped back.

“Well, by my count that’s everything,” Chuck retorted.

Olivia ignored him and crossed to the pool deck’s shaded corner, which had clearly been set up for filming. They’d moved three of the patio chairs into a small cluster with a garden table between them with a vase of flowers on it. Olivia plopped down in a chair without direction, assuming she’d end up there anyway. Chuck sat in another chair and straightened his collar.

“And I see we’re having a great afternoon,” Parker mumbled, following them as they bickered.

A crew of techs swarmed them. The makeup artist from earlier swiped a brush down Olivia’s nose and across her forehead. The sound tech reached behind her and clicked on her microphone’s pack. Olivia noted out of the corner of her eye when he did the same thing to Chuck, and she realized their mics were never on.

Heat pooled into her lower belly and pushed up into her face at the thought that Chuck had used the hot mics as an excuse to touch her off camera.

She glanced sideways at him, still feeling the heat of his hand on her chest, but he wouldn’t look at her. His eyes stayed forward as the makeup artist gave him a final brushing too.

“So!” Parker said, drawing their attention with a clap of his hands. “We’re eager to keep things rolling.”

TJ Price chose that moment to join them. He entered from the kitchen wing’s back doors wearing a blazer and jeans. A makeup bib fluttered around his neck like a doily, and he shoved the end of a sandwich into his mouth. He took a hard swallow and removed the bib. “Let’s do this, huh!” he said with a beaming grin, and joined them in the makeshift studio. He sat in the chair adjacent to them. The techs pounced on him like a pack of wolves.

“Right,” Parker carried on, sounding exasperated. “We’ll be starting with a couples interview. We want to give the viewers a chance to get to know you both. They’ve all seen the video from the street—and Chuck’s backlog of work—by now, I’m sure.” He gave Chuck a wink, and Olivia tried not to scoff when Chuck beamed like he had just been patted on the head. “But we want to give them more . We want them invested. Sound good?”

“Yes,” Chuck said with a nod at the same time Olivia said, “That depends on what you’re going to ask us.”

TJ chuckled. “I like her,” he said as if everyone there were his personal audience. “I like you,” he said again, directed at Olivia. “I knew you were something special from the moment you demanded we double the prize money. Actually, from the moment you flipped off everyone in the street.” He chuckled, and Olivia winced in chagrin.

“That was aimed at me,” Chuck butted in.

The panel lights they’d set up blinked on, and Olivia flinched in the high beams despite already being outside in the daylight.

“Quiet, please!” someone called from off set where she could no longer see.

TJ chuckled again, darker this time. “Sure, Chuck. But I still enjoyed it.”

“It wasn’t yours to enjoy…” Olivia thought she heard Chuck mutter as if he wanted full possession of her ire.

Her lip twitched the tiniest bit upward at the thought.

“Okay, here we go, folks,” Parker said from somewhere behind the camera that was suddenly aimed at Olivia like a gaping eyeball.

A cold sweat broke out over her skin, and her breath lodged high in her chest.

A new person stepped forward, a man with a shaved head and glasses at the end of his nose. “Olivia, Chuck, I’m Dan, your director for this interview. Pleasure to meet you. TJ is going to lead you through some questions. Just answer them naturally and honestly, and we’ll see where we end up. Okay?”

Olivia found something about this new person calming. She didn’t know what, but she was thankful for it because the lights, the camera, a half-dozen people staring at her, and her ex sitting three feet away in front of them all—the one person she might have turned to for comfort if she could only stand him—had her ready to burst with nerves.

“Sounds good. Thanks, Dan,” Chuck calmly said.

Olivia found a surprising ounce of relief in the sound of his voice and nodded.

“Great. Here we go!” Dan said. He disappeared behind the camera and called action.

TJ leaned forward, ready. Olivia noted that he didn’t have a script or any notes. “Olivia, Chuck: America’s new favorite couple. Thank you for joining us.”

“Hi, TJ,” Chuck said, and Olivia took the cue from him.

“Hello,” she added.

“So, by now everyone has seen your public breakup in all its glory. In that clip, you both state you would not get back together. Olivia even put a dollar amount on the likelihood. And now here you are on Name Your Price in an attempt to live together for the next month. By the time this interview airs, that video will be news to no one, so we want to give viewers the chance to get to know you better. Who are Olivia and Chuck? What’s your story?”

He blinked at them with a wide, expectant smile, and Olivia found herself too aware of the camera to speak.

The warm rumble of Chuck’s voice caught her off guard and once again eased her discomfort. “Well, I’m an actor, and Olivia is a writer for Mix . They were doing a spotlight on me, and we met when she came to interview me. Of course, as the consummate professional she is, she immediately dropped the assignment when our relationship turned personal.” He said it fondly. As if the memory was one that he held special.

In truth, Olivia remembered it fondly too. Despite having cursed his name and wishing she’d gone through with the assignment and never agreed to a date in moments she was most frustrated with him, the memory of the first time she saw him up close still set a swarm of traitorous butterflies loose in her belly.

“Was it love at first sight?” TJ said with a bounce of his eyebrows.

Chuck laughed a funny sound. “It was something at first sight, that’s for sure.”

TJ sat forward in his chair. His elbows pressed into his knees. “Tell us more about that. You two have incredible chemistry; I can feel it right now. I mean, anyone who saw the video can see it plain as day. Is that what drew you together?”

Heat blossomed on Olivia’s cheeks. She hoped it wasn’t visible on camera.

“Olivia? What are you thinking?” TJ asked, and she felt her face grow even hotter.

She was thinking about how after she’d told her boss she couldn’t keep the assignment, she and Chuck went out that night they met and made out outside Mel’s diner, a blur of lips and loose clothes and wandering hands. She was thinking about how they slept together the next night and the next and the next and the next. She was thinking about how every time they were together it felt simultaneously like stars aligning and the worst idea she’d ever had. She was thinking that her feelings for him were a complicated mess, and she’d made it even messier by agreeing to let a TV show tape them for the whole country to watch.

But she wasn’t about to say any of that.

“I guess you could say our chemistry drew us together.”

“Mm-hmm. And what tore you apart?” TJ asked, startling her like he’d thrown a bucket of ice water on warm embers.

Olivia and Chuck swapped a glance, and she realized there wasn’t an easy answer to that question.

“How long is this interview?” Chuck said with an awkward laugh. He smoothed his palms over his knees, and Olivia wondered if he was nervous too and simply better than her at hiding it.

“As long as it takes!” TJ said with a guffaw. “I sense this story goes many layers deep. Why don’t we start with that day in the street? What led to that argument and Olivia’s now viral declaration?”

Olivia snorted, feeling the rage of it all come rushing back. “He stood me up for my grandmother’s eighty-fifth birthday party.”

TJ flinched, and Chuck took a sudden interest in looking at his fingernails. “ Ouch , Chuckie,” TJ said. “That stings.”

Chuck rolled his eyes. “Don’t call me that, and I didn’t stand her up . I had an important audition to go to.”

“For which you didn’t get the part,” Olivia added. “So it turned out leaving an innocent old lady wondering why her party guest ghosted her was all in vain.”

“I won’t get any parts if I don’t go to auditions!” Chuck snapped.

“Well, you’re not getting them even when you do go, so what’s the difference?” Olivia snapped back. “It was one night , Chuck!”

“One night that could have changed everything!”

“Okay!” TJ interjected. “I see the fuse here is short. No wonder that scene in the street was so explosive.”

“You should have seen what you missed upstairs…” Chuck muttered.

“What’s that?” TJ asked.

Olivia shot Chuck a death glare, daring him to elaborate.

“Nothing,” he said, backing off.

TJ looked back and forth between them like he was watching a tennis match. “I sense there’s more to the story here, but I also sense we aren’t going to get very far in this interview with the two of you together.”

“Can’t say we didn’t warn you,” Olivia said with an annoyed arch of her brow. She leaned her elbow on the chair’s arm and sighed.

TJ looked back at her like it was a challenge. “How about this?” he said after a beat. He looked over his shoulder at the camera crew and Parker and waved his hand to cut. “Why don’t we start with some one-on-one footage for this segment?”

“Sounds great,” Chuck said, and stood up. “I volunteer to go second.” He stepped away and left Olivia sitting there in the spotlight.

“I—” she started to say, and stopped when she felt all eyes on her.

“Olivia? Is this okay with you?” Dan the director asked.

She felt trapped, but storming off set might ruin her chances of getting paid, and that was, after all, the whole point.

“Sure,” she said, defeated.

“Excellent,” Dan said. “TJ?” He gestured at him to carry on, and Olivia didn’t like the sly grin on TJ’s mouth.

“Let’s do it,” TJ said.

Dan called action again, and Olivia felt the camera boring into her like a drill. She’d lost sight of Chuck behind all the equipment.

“So, Olivia,” TJ resumed. “You’re a writer for Mix . What draws you to that line of work?”

She felt herself settle into a much easier interview. “I like learning about people. I like telling their stories.”

“That makes two of us,” he said with a grin. “You have an interesting story, don’t you?”

An uncomfortable feeling separate from the one due to the lights and camera took root at the base of her spine and began to climb. “What do you mean?”

TJ settled back in his chair. “Well, you’re the daughter of a rather famous—or should I say, infamous —couple, aren’t you? Rebecca Martin and Bradley Harris?”

Olivia startled at the abrupt shift in direction. “Um, yes. They were my parents.”

“Your mother was a brilliant actress. Such a tragedy. How well do you remember them?” He gazed at her with an expectation that said this had been part of his plan all along, to get her to talk about everyone’s favorite secret scandal, and she was not equipped.

Her mouth went dry. She had to unstick her tongue from her teeth. “I don’t remember them at all. They died when I was a baby.”

“And your grandmother raised you, is that right?”

Olivia expected someone to yell cut. This had nothing to do with her and Chuck, and frankly, she was uncomfortable talking about it.

But the camera was still pointed at her, and the lights were bright. She didn’t know the rules of interrupting filming.

“Yes. My grandmother raised me.” Her voice nearly shook.

“Mm-hmm. And what about Astrid Larsson?”

Olivia felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. She even rocked forward slightly. She didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t know what TJ wanted from her. She was beginning to sweat. A bead rolled down her cheek. Or maybe that was a tear, she couldn’t tell. “What about her?” she managed to say.

TJ casually held out his hand palm up. “Have you ever talked to her about it all? I mean, your parents’ affair ruined her marriage.”

The statement knifed into her. Olivia had never spoken to Astrid. She imagined the woman loathed her simply for existing, but she’d always been thankful that Astrid had never sold her side of the story either. She had been notoriously tight-lipped for nearly thirty years despite the public’s pleas for dirt. If she ever changed her mind, the enormity of her broken silence would send shock waves through the entertainment world and surely upend Olivia’s quiet life, and she did not want to be thrust into the spotlight as the living, breathing reason that everyone’s favorite actress was heartbroken.

She was suddenly angry with herself for not seeing the trap she’d walked into. Of course they were going to ask. She was an idiot for not realizing it.

“Do you feel guilty about the role you played in it all, Olivia?” TJ asked.

Her lips began to tremble. She felt cornered. Tears hot with anger and embarrassment washed her eyes. She blinked them away as best she could. “I…um…”

“Okay, I think that’s enough.” Chuck reappeared from behind the cameras. He put himself between Olivia and the crew. She didn’t even know he was still in the yard.

“Hey, man. No one called cut,” TJ protested.

“Yeah, well, these questions are out of line. They have nothing to do with us, and that’s what we signed on for,” Chuck said with an edge to his voice. He turned to face Olivia. The soft look on his face caught her off guard. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said weakly.

He held out a hand like he was going to pull her up but remembered the rules and beckoned her instead. “Come on.”

“Um, we’re not done,” TJ said, annoyed.

“I think we are, though,” Chuck said without turning around. He flipped up the back of his shirt and unhooked his mic pack. He unthreaded it through the front of his shirt and wadded the tangle in a ball.

A reluctant smile lifted Olivia’s lips that he was coming to her defense. She followed suit and unclipped her mic before disentangling it from her dress.

“You guys can’t leave,” TJ whined as they tossed their gear onto the table.

Chuck ignored him and spoke directly to the executive producer. “Parker, you can call my agent about the direction of the show. I’m sure he’ll have concerns after he hears about this.” He stepped around the crew and nodded at Olivia to follow him.

They walked off toward the house and left the crew gaping after them.

Olivia waited until they were back in the bedroom to speak. “Chuck, what are you doing? We can’t leave! We need the money!” she said in a harsh whisper.

Chuck stopped to face her. “Don’t worry. They need us. We have to show them they can’t push us around.”

The way he said us shot a pang of…something through her.

“You don’t think they’re going to get mad?”

He casually shrugged. “Probably, but that’s their problem. He shouldn’t have gone after you like that. It was out of line, and they need to know it.”

Discomfort from TJ’s questions left a bitter taste in her mouth. At the same time, she felt a swell of affection toward Chuck. “I should have known they were going to ask about my parents. I feel like an idiot. But thank you,” she said. “For stepping in like that.”

He gave her a soft, sympathetic smile. “No problem.”

An ease settled between them, and Olivia nipped it in the bud before it could blossom into something that would lead to trouble. “Is this the kind of behavior that gets you fired from sets?”

He rolled his eyes with a sigh. “No.”

“Sorry! If you’re not going to tell me, then I’ll just keep making assumptions.”

“You and everyone else…” he muttered.

Olivia let it go, knowing he wouldn’t surrender. “So, are you actually going to call your agent?”

Chuck glanced out at the pool deck. The film crew milled about looking bored and like they were used to such drama. Parker and TJ were having a heated conversation under the umbrella.

“No,” Chuck said. “Not now anyway. Let’s give them a few minutes. They’ll come around.”

“You sound remarkably confident about that.”

He shrugged. “They’ve invested a lot in this show. They aren’t going to let us walk that easily. And besides, we haven’t broken any rules, so it’s not like they can kick us out.”

She realized he was right. She chewed her lip, hearing her heart still beating too fast in her ears, and watched Parker and TJ’s conversation. Her eyes drifted over to the camera crew on the lawn. One of them had slipped off his shoes and stood ankle-deep on the pool’s first step. A dip in the water didn’t sound half bad; she considered taking one later that night.

She turned back when she felt Chuck’s fingertips graze against her shoulder. She looked down at his hand hovering with his thumb tracing out a little circle, and then up at his face.

He guiltily bit his bottom lip. “You had a…um…fuzz on your sleeve.” He brushed the backs of his fingers against the crown of her shoulder again.

Olivia arched one brow at him, not believing him for a second and feeling the same fiery ache she’d felt when he’d put his hand over her chest an hour earlier. “A fuzz? Just like I had a hot mic before the interview? I knew you’d be the one to break the rules, Chuck.”

He opened his mouth to respond when Parker appeared at the door. He knocked on the glass and slid it open.

“Hey, guys. Sorry about that. We’re ready to get things back on track now.” He gave them an apologetic smile and beckoned them with a hand before turning around.

Olivia glanced at Chuck.

He’d stowed his guilty gaze and put on a smug smile. He held out a hand and nodded at the door. “Told you they’d come around.”

···

The interview took up most of the afternoon. Once they were done and Olivia had peeled off her fake eyelashes, Chuck left her alone in the bedroom to finish unpacking.

She made use of her allotted five hangers and took the liberty to steal a few of his. He certainly didn’t need ten different pressed shirts, nor the blazer he’d hung in the walk-in’s far corner like it was some kind of precious artifact. He’d packed a small mint of clothing—one of his button-downs alone was worth half of everything Olivia had packed combined—and she couldn’t deny that the soft, rich fabrics felt heavenly between her fingers when she removed them from their hangers and folded them on the dresser in the closet’s center. She gave herself credit for not simply throwing them on the floor.

She was unloading her socks into a drawer when an otherworldly screech that she’d never known the likes of tore through the house.

“ OLIVIA! ” Chuck screamed like a banshee.

She jumped so hard, she stubbed her toe on the dresser and dropped the little nugget of folded socks she held.

“OLIVIA, COME HERE NOW!”

In a panic—because he had to be in grave danger to be making such sounds—she took off running toward his voice. Her heart slammed into her ribs. The cameraman who’d been in the closet with her followed right on her heels. A pain in her toe from catching it on the dresser throbbed up through her shin like a hammer stroke with each step as she ran down the hall. He’d called from the other wing of the house, and by the time she found him in the living room, she was ready to dial 911 on the phone clutched in her hand, slick with panicked sweat.

Except Chuck was not floundering amid a bloody murder scene like she’d expected. He was standing in the middle of their furniture-less living room pointing a remote at the TV.

“What?” she demanded, out of breath and hopping on one foot while her toe turned purple. “What happened?” A second cameraman stood in the corner, aiming his equipment at them.

Chuck turned to her with an ill, stricken look on his face. “There’s no internet,” he said as gravely as if they’d been sentenced to death.

Olivia exhaled a breath big enough to make her head hurt. “ Chuck! I thought you were dying out here!”

“I might as well be!” he nearly shrieked. He clicked the remote at the TV, which Olivia then noticed was a gray screen with No Signal scrawled across it. “Nothing works. There’s no cable, no streaming. I hadn’t checked my phone before now because we’ve been busy since we got here, but look for yourself!” He nodded at her phone clutched in her hand.

Her speeding heart had begun to slow. She took a breath as another kind of panic set in. “There can’t be no internet,” she muttered as she thumbed her phone. When she saw that her Wi-Fi signal had been reduced to none, she realized that she hadn’t checked her phone since they’d arrived either. She had an unread How’s it going? text from Mansi, so at least the cell service worked. But no internet…

“No,” she said plainly. “This can’t be.”

“I know. It’s like they jammed the signal,” Chuck said. “Did you guys know about this?” he asked the two cameramen in the room with them. Parker and TJ had long since left.

Neither of them responded.

Olivia hobbled over to the kitchen island where she’d left her tote, her toe still aching, and scrambled for her laptop. “No, no, no,” she said in a rush. She pulled it out and pried it open to see the Wi-Fi signal completely empty. “ No! ” She slammed it shut and held her face in her hands. “There can’t be no internet.”

How was she supposed to check her email? How was she supposed to know what was going on in the world? How the hell was she supposed to distract herself from being locked in a house with Chuck Walsh for a month?

“Maybe it’s like the second bathroom,” Chuck offered. “Maybe we can win it in a challenge or something.”

Olivia groaned. Even one day without a connection to the outside world would be torture. She was tempted to call it quits right then and walk out the front door with her hands up in surrender.

“This is just another way they are trying to break us,” she said.

“What?” Chuck looked up from where he’d squatted by the TV. He’d found a basket full of DVDs. “I will sleep through literally all of these…” he muttered as he ran a hand over the cases.

Olivia rejoined him in the empty living room. “They’ve set this whole house up to test us, to make it harder for us to be here together, Chuck.” She flung her arm at the kitchen. “The dishwasher, the dinner plans, only one bathroom, only one bed. No touching. It’s all designed to make us break. And now this.” She sighed in dismay. “No internet means we’re going to have to…spend time together. Talk to each other.”

Chuck looked up at her and swallowed like he wasn’t sure what to make of the prospect. He looked back down at the basket of DVDs and plucked one out of the ten options. “Or just watch Finding Nemo on repeat for a month.”

“Don’t hate on the fish.”

A genuine whine spilled from his mouth. He flopped back on the carpet like a cranky kid, and Olivia half expected him to throw a tantrum.

She felt the same way, but instead of melting down, she took a breath. “This is fine. It’s fine,” she said with a shrug and a false sense of confidence. “We can do this.”

In response, Chuck groaned and smacked the Finding Nemo case against his forehead.

···

They’d made it twelve hours in the house together by the time Olivia was ready for bed, which, all things considered, was impressive. Exhausted from the move-in and interview and still cranky about their new accommodations, they opted for eating what Tyler had already supplied rather than requesting ingredients for a full dinner they would’ve had to muster the strength to agree on. Olivia had an ice cream sandwich and a piece of toast, and Chuck was defeated enough to microwave a frozen burrito.

The camera crew had left for the night, but the glowing red dots from the lenses mounted in the corner of each room made Olivia feel like they were being watched by tiny vampires. She’d left Chuck to his own devices to carry out his ten-step bedtime skincare routine because she knew she would have thrown an elbow trying to share the same bathroom space he’d commandeered ninety percent of, just as expected. She’d changed into her pajamas, shorts and a stretchy camisole, and taken her toothbrush and facial cleanser to the kitchen sink. When she returned to the bedroom to find him nestled into one side of the bed with a book in his lap, she froze in her tracks.

He was shirtless and under the covers from his waist down. Her eyes went to his cut arms and naked torso like magnets. She hadn’t seen him shirtless other than in her imagination since that day on the sidewalk. She knew he slept in his underwear, if not naked, and she sincerely hoped he hadn’t stripped down before staging this coup. But perhaps most problematic was that he was wearing her ultimate kryptonite: his glasses. His vision needed only slight correction, and he wore contacts during the day, but the pair of black frames he put on at night easily took him from already gorgeous to hot professor fantasy status. She bit her lip at the sight, and then remembered they’d had a deal.

“What are you doing?” she asked, annoyed.

“Reading,” he said without looking up. “I found this on the shelf in the office. I’ll take classic sci-fi over Finding Nemo . And besides, this will probably take me a month to finish anyway.” He lifted the thick paperback from his lap, and Olivia saw he was a few pages into Dune .

She walked into the bathroom to deposit her toiletries and returned to the bedside with her hands on her hips. “I meant, what are you doing in the bed? We agreed that I get it.”

He put the book down and gave her a serious look. Or perhaps it was the glasses making him look serious. She hated to admit they gave him an air of authority. “No, you said you get the bed. I never agreed.”

“I—” She realized he was right. She’d claimed the bed, but the only thing they’d actually agreed on was no sex. And sharing a bed, well, it didn’t need to be stated that one thing would lead to another. And now they had an official hands-off rule to contend with. “Chuck, no,” she said. She waved her arms in a chopping motion like an X.

“Liv, it’s fine. Look, I’ll build a pillow wall.” He grabbed one of the spare pillows and shoved it up against his hip. “I’ll stay on my side; you’ll stay on yours.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. They’d never stayed on separate sides of the bed in all their time together. They slept in a tangle of sweaty limbs or spooning or, most commonly, didn’t sleep at all.

She knew it would be impossible, and after the day she’d had, she didn’t want to deal with it. Not to mention, a slip-up would cost them money.

“Chuck, please. My foot hurts from when I came running over your little meltdown in the living room earlier, I essentially got harassed in our interview today, this house sucks, and I’m really, really tired!” Her voice rose into an exasperated whine. She clenched her fists at her sides and stamped her good foot.

Chuck gave her a weary look. “And you think all those things don’t apply to me too?”

She arched a brow at him. “None of those things apply to you!”

“ Ugh , you know what I mean, Liv! I know you had a rough day, but so did I! I’d sleep on the couch if we had one, but we don’t. This feels fair.” He patted the pillow he’d squished into the bed’s center, then held up his hands. “Hands off. Promise. I won’t lose us any money.”

He could make all the promises he wanted, but she was worried about herself. Inevitably, that pillow would end up on the floor, and she’d roll over into his warm chest and nuzzle her face into her favorite crook between his shoulder and neck. Then he’d pull her close, and his hands would find their way to her thigh, her back, under her shirt—

“Chuck! Get out!” she snapped.

He didn’t move but instead set his jaw and cast her a defiant look. Those damned glasses only worked in his favor. “No.”

They silently stared each other down. The test of wills left Olivia’s pulse quickening. She felt it fluttering in her wrists, her throat. Her breathing picked up, and when she saw Chuck’s tongue flash over his lips, a little pink dart like a dare to give in, she steeled herself.

“Fine,” she said.

A smile bent his mouth as if he’d won, but instead of climbing into the bed with him, Olivia turned on her heel and left the room. She left him staring after her and walked back to the kitchen.

She knew she could get him out of the bed. He just needed the right incentive.

The kitchen lights automatically flicked on when she entered the glossy space. She yanked open a few drawers, muttering to herself until she found what she was looking for.

“ Yes ,” she hissed victoriously, and clutched the small metal object in her palm.

Chuck had resumed reading by the time she returned to the bedroom. She felt his eyes follow her as she walked into the closet with purpose.

She ran her fingers over the luscious sleeves dangling on his side and picked out a baby blue shirt with a mononymous Italian label. Chuck looked great in it, of course, but he looked great in anything, so the loss wouldn’t be too bad. She pulled it from its hanger and marched back into the bedroom holding it up by the collar like a stray cat.

He sat straight up as if he’d been electrocuted. “What are you doing?”

Olivia wickedly smiled and snapped open the lighter she’d found in the kitchen. “Get out or I’ll burn it.”

Chuck’s face drained of color as he visibly fought not to leap out of the bed and save his precious clothing. “You wouldn’t dare .”

She flicked on the flame and held it dangerously close to the shirt’s elegant cuff. “Try me. And I’m honestly surprised we’ve made it this far together without me having lit anything of yours on fire before.”

“ Olivia ,” he warned.

She held the lighter closer and grinned in the flame’s flickering light. “There’s a simple solution here, Chuck. Get out, and I will spare the shirt.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. She could see his jaw working from across the room. She’d upped the stakes in the battle of wills by adding a victim.

“What’s it going to be, Chuck: the bed or the shirt?”

He stared at her with both panic and fury in his eyes. His struggle was as tangible as the fabric between her fingers. He silently shook his head.

“Fine,” Olivia said, and moved the flame closer to the sleeve.

“No!” he shouted, and flung himself from the bed, revealing that he was wearing boxer briefs under the covers. In one swift move, he lunged at her, grabbed the shirt, and threw open the sliding door. He dashed out onto the patio, swearing and moving like he was going to plunge the whole thing into the pool and maybe even jump in with it, when he pulled up short and realized nothing was on fire.

A victorious cackle tore from Olivia’s mouth as she snapped the lighter shut. “Good to know where your priorities are.”

He turned to face her, his miles of bare skin bathed in moonlight, and scowled at her with a murderous look.

They stared at each other, and it took them the same amount of time to realize that not only had she successfully gotten him out of the bed, but she’d also gotten him out of the house.

They both blinked in what felt like slow motion before lunging at the door. Olivia was standing closer to it, so by the time Chuck reached for it, she’d slammed it shut and flipped the lock.

“Olivia!” he yelled at her, standing on the other side of the glass.

She could not stop the sinister smile that spread her lips. Her plan had worked out far better than anticipated.

“Good night, Chuck,” she said with a flirtatious little wave.

“Are you kidding me?” He pressed his hands against the door, fingers splayed wide. “You can’t leave me out here!”

She only laughed harder. She nodded at the cushioned lounge chairs. “By my count, there’s more furniture out there than there is in here, so you’re better off.”

He glanced at the chairs and in his sweep, his eyes landed on the doors on the opposite side of the house leading to the kitchen. He cast her a determined grin before he took off toward them.

Olivia took off at the same second, knowing he was much closer to them given the house’s layout and praying they were already locked. She ran through the halls, her injured toe throbbing, and got there just in time to see him trying to yank them open against the lock.

“Olivia! Let me in!”

Her laughter returned. “You’ll be fine. It’s summertime in L.A. You might as well be sleeping on a tropical beach. And don’t even think of hopping the fence into the front yard and losing us this game on the first night. I’ll lock the door before you get there anyway.”

He gave her a look worthy of treason and stomped off.

“Good night, Chuck!” she sang.

She returned to the bedroom and climbed into the plush bed. Through the door she could see that he’d settled on one of the lounge chairs with his back to her. She peacefully drifted off, thinking that surviving a month might not be so bad after all, but also that she might have just started a war.