3. Zayn
Zayn
The air in the room is electrified, and I can’t seem to look anywhere else but at Annie.
She’s wearing a white blouse cut low enough to draw my attention, and her brown hair frames her face.
Her lips are a deep shade of red, and it’s not until Greg speaks that I find it in me to tear my eyes away from her.
“Annie, take a seat,” Greg commands. There’s one left next to Greg, so she takes that, sitting across from me.
I glare at Greg out of habit before remembering that I shouldn’t care about her.
Her chair squeaks as it moves back. “Sorry,” she mutters.
Instead of her focus being on me, her eyes are on Logan. Why is she looking at him, not at me? Does she not remember me? No, that’s impossible. The flush in her cheeks tells me she does, as does the way she’s fidgeting in her seat, as if she’s fighting to keep herself from glaring at me.
“Annie, this is Zayn Barnes. Zayn, this is Annie Mitchell, your new publicist.” Logan chimes in, even though we’ve already been introduced.
“I know,” Annie slips. Her eyes widen and bounce between Greg and Logan, never once landing on me. “I mean, what I meant to say is, I know who you are and I’m happy to help.”
She finally drags her gaze to meet mine, and there’s a sense of familiarity in it. I hold her stare, my tongue darting outside my bottom lip for a brief moment.
“Nice to meet you, Annie.”
She dips her chin to say the same, and her eyes briefly shoot to my mouth before the mask returns. A smile replaces her momentary scowl and her eyes shift back to Logan.
For the rest of the meeting, I find myself stealing harmless glances at Annie while the details of the contract are laid out in front of us.
It’ll run from the beginning of August to the end of December, which will hopefully be when I sign the contract for the trilogy.
Five months is plenty of time to smile at the cameras and fix my image.
“Alright, let’s get down to business,” Greg says.
“We propose one event a week for the next five months, with a few of those being more large-scale events. You’re already aware of the gala on Saturday, which will be your first event.
Before then, we suggest you two meet to get to know each other.
” Greg looks at me. “We will need to start small and reintroduce you to the media. Annie, here, will help with all the logistics and what to say.”
“I don’t do public events.” Leaning back into my chair, I cross my arms.
“What he means to say,” Logan glares my way before he comments, “is that he doesn’t feel prepared to do public events.”
I give him my best side-eye, ignoring the fact that he’s supposed to be on my side and help me do this the way I want to.
I’ve only attended two events in the last six months.
The first didn’t have a ton of media attention, but it was large enough that I cussed out two different reporters.
Marissa was at the next event, with a man on her arm, and that was when I almost punched a photographer for telling me to smile.
Logan saved me from that disaster. I haven’t been to another event since.
“I’d be willing to meet tomorrow, for us to start preparing,” Annie suggests. “In private, if you’d like.”
I glance at her, assuming she'll look away immediately, but instead she locks eyes with me. My cock twitches, reacting to her challenging my gaze. My own body doesn’t know that she is off limits because not only did she date my brother, but she’s also my publicist. Oh, and I don’t date, not even casually.
“He’d love that,” Logan says. Annie’s attention on me never falters.
“Well, that settles it. We will begin tomorrow,” Greg exclaims, jotting useless information down in front of him.
For the last few minutes of lunch, Annie signs all the necessary paperwork.
Whatever happens between us is now protected by a legal document.
Her having relations with my brother won’t be a conflict of interest, as she knows so little about me.
Because of that, I’m still able to have some control with this situation.
Even though she’s the puppeteer, telling me what to say and who to say it to, I’m still going to control the overall narrative.
And that alone eases the knot that’s forming in my chest.
Logan and I walk over to meet Greg and Annie on the other side of the table. We shake hands, alternating between the pair.
“I’m looking forward to our partnership.
Let me know in the meantime if there’s anything I can do for you.
I’m just a text away.” A soft smile appears on Annie’s face, a mask of professionalism.
I reach out to shake her hand, immediately regretting it when I feel her warmth and watch the red rise in her cheeks.
We drop each other's hands, and I clear my throat as if that'll help me forget the feel of her skin. The first time I touch a woman since Marissa and my pulse radiates through my entire body. Fucking pathetic.
Logan comes to the rescue again, filling in the words I lack.
He graciously lets Annie know we will be in touch and thanks them for helping me.
A load of bullshit, in my opinion. I don’t need help improving my image, which I’ve told Logan multiple times.
I can do it alone. I can talk to the media, say what they want to hear, smile for the cameras, and be the guy everyone wants me to be.
This year may not have been great, but if Ed needs me to be more personable to offer me the role, I’ll do it.
What I don’t need is a distraction, which I almost guarantee Annie will be. With our past, I already know we will butt heads. No one with that amount of energy and optimism will get along with someone like me, especially when she already has a foul taste about me.
Where she radiates sunshine, I darken with clouds.
I’m going to keep my head down, do the work, and land this role. Seems pretty straightforward to me.