Beneath the Hood (Sugarlake #3)

1. Blakely

ONE

Blakely

“You’re not eating much.”

A knot in my stomach tightens, the way it always does when people question my habits. So I don’t want to shove three thousand calories of grease down my gullet and end up spending hours in the gym to work it off. Sue me.

I smile thinly, and the force of my lips pressing against each other causes an ache in my jaw. “I literally ate everything I ordered.”

Jared, my best friend Kayla’s flavor of the week, scoffs as he glances at my plate. “It was baked chicken and plain cherry tomatoes. You can’t be full from that.”

I shrug, ignoring the way my shoulder muscles pull tight. “And? Your point?”

His brow arches. “Well, aren’t you still hungry?”

My insides twist, his questioning making my legs bounce under the table and my lungs compress. People never understand the dedication, but I have an image to maintain. I don’t have the luxury of being able to demolish a plate of cheesy fries and guzzle pints of overpriced IPAs. Besides, my body is my temple. I refuse to desecrate it with trash.

My eyes start at the tip of Jared’s perfectly coiffed blond hair, trailing down his pink polo with an alligator on the breast—the fabric soaked in his pretension. Kayla’s been excited to introduce me to her newest “love,” and this is the first time we’re meeting face-to-face. So far, I’m less than impressed.

Kayla smacks his arm. “Leave her alone. She looks fucking fabulous. I wish I had her willpower.”

Her brown eyes swing my way and she winks. My stomach unravels and I grin back at her. She gets it.

Jared raised his hands. “My bad, Blakely. I’m just saying. I didn’t realize you were on a diet.”

“It’s not a diet. It’s a lifestyle choice,” I hiss. My fists clench in my lap. It gets so tiring having to defend not wanting to eat garbage all the time.

Looking past him, I notice the audience of paparazzi forming outside of the restaurant. I paste a smile on my face, not wanting them to snap blurry photos of me sneering across the table.

Lazy bastards.

They don’t even try to hide in the shadows anymore, knowing I’ll play my part every time. They’re blatantly looking through the windows, waiting like vultures to catch an unpolished moment. They’ll have to keep waiting. I’ve been training for perfection my entire life. Having a dad who’s the it producer in Hollywood comes with a set of expectations. A certain standard you can’t fall beneath, lest you be picked apart by millions of people who will never understand what it’s like to be you. I bring it upon myself at this point, embracing the life I was born into—commandeering the vapid, shallow waters and steering the sails to make the waves break for me and not the other way around.

Tossing my hair behind my shoulders, I peek down at my shirt, picking off the few stray dark brunette strands. I’m wearing the new Leaxandré blouse and it’s the perfect chance to get some candid shots—it’s why we leaked to the paps that I was here in the first place, after all.

Jared’s hand slinks around Kayla’s chair, playing with the ends of her dark brown hair, his skin looking extra pasty against her deep fake tan I squint my eyes, watching them interact. Kayla’s addicted to relationships. I can’t remember a time when she didn’t have man candy on her arm, claiming they were her soulmate.

She calls it love, I call it codependency, but to each their own, I suppose. I’ve never even had a boyfriend, so who am I to judge?

The problem is, she’s also super attracted to preppy douchebags. Ones who have the money to buy the Ferraris but don’t know how to make them purr. And if they can’t handle a machine, how the hell does she expect them to handle her?

Cars remind me of Jackson, my dad’s newest star employee, and my kitty purrs just from the thought of him. He’s way too old for me and a thousand percent off-limits, but he’s hot so I can’t find it in me to care. Besides, there’s something oddly satisfying about slipping under his skin and causing him to shed his calm exterior. I find myself doing things just to get a reaction, and when I do, his irritation sizzles between us and settles into my veins like a current. It makes me feel powerful to incite such a strong reaction in a man who otherwise never cracks.

Besides, it’s nice having someone who doesn’t bend to my will and lay down at my feet, following me around like a lapdog once they find out who I am.

I pull out my phone and type a text.

Me:

Miss me yet, Jackson?

Closing the window, I don’t bother to wait for a response.

He rarely texts back, but it doesn’t deter me. He doesn’t live in Cali full-time, which makes zero sense to me since his work is here, but I guess the ties to his hometown are stronger than the pull of the California sun.

Swiping through my apps, I pull up my calorie tracker, mentally calculating my lunch before entering in the numbers. The app has a search with most common items listed, but I’ve been at this long enough to know the numbers by heart. I don’t really deviate from what I know, and I always keep the same restaurants in rotation so I don’t have the added anxiety of figuring out what I can and can’t eat.

I sigh, gripping my phone tighter. “You guys ready to go? I need to run home before the club tonight.”

Jared’s brows draw in. “What club?”

“I can’t remember, but does it matter? They’re all the same.” I slip on my sunglasses, nodding to the table behind me where my bodyguard, Lennox, sits. I don’t go anywhere without him; even before I made a name for myself in the influencer world, my father had Lennox at my side, not willing to take the risk of someone coming after me to get to him.

We live a blessed life of luxury. The kind people can only dream of, and greed breeds corruption from even the most unsuspecting people.

“How do you not remember what club you’re going to?” Jared pipes up again.

I shrug. “Sierra knows, but I gave her the afternoon off.”

“She’s the best.” Kayla sighs.

“She really is.” I nod in agreement.

Sierra is my manager, and the only reason I’m not a freaking mess all the time. She keeps me—and my schedule—in check. Honestly, she’s one of the closest people in my circle, and I trust her more than anyone else in my life.

“Should we go out the back?” Jared asks, glancing toward the paps.

I force a chuckle, my throat tightening around the noise. Clearly, Jared has no clue what this world is like. He comes from money, of course, Kayla wouldn’t be seen with him if not, but he’s never been in the limelight.

Obviously, Kayla didn’t let him know how things work around here.

Releasing my bottom lip from where it’s stuck between my teeth, I smile. “Nope, we go out the front. Give them what they’re after. I need some good shots of this outfit anyway.”

“You want them to take pics of you?”

Want is a strong word. I want the two hundred thousand I’m being paid for wearing this outfit; I don’t want the rest of it. It’s just an unfortunate side effect. But I won’t tell him that—even with my closest friends, I play the part.

Fake it till you make it…and then keep faking it forever, even after you do.

The legs of my chair scrape against the tile as I stand, but right before I grab my purse, my phone vibrates in my hand.

I look down and smile, my heart jumping in my chest.

Jackson:

Not even a little bit.