Chapter 10
TEN
For some reason, I feel like I just ran five miles and then spent two hours weight training in preparation for the biggest role of my life.
That’s what that meeting did to me.
I barely notice that Jaxon and I are alone in the private elevator, gliding nonstop to the parking garage.
He’s quiet, too. I think we’re both wrung out from what just happened upstairs.
I can hardly believe this is my life right now.
This is not what I signed up for.
And now, in just two days, I have to face all those women from the show—women I’m prohibited from telling the truth.
But they’ll see through the lies. They have to.
The editing was obvious. They were there.
They saw how I felt—or didn’t feel—about Jaxon.
They’ll know the producers, Anne, and Jaxon’s PR guy had their hands all over every "choice.
" Even that final, ridiculous scene where he picked me.
Sure, the viewers bought the fairytale. But the cast?
They lived the backstage chaos.
They’ll know.
“Hey.”
Jaxon’s voice breaks our silence, and my body tenses like I’ve been zapped.
Why couldn’t he just stay quiet?
“Did you really look at the camera before you took… whatever you took?”
I whip my head toward him, glare sharp as glass.
“I felt like nothing more than a sex object,” I say coolly, paraphrasing one of the women from Hunks of Junk Jocks. “After he got off, he said ‘thank you,’ threw on his clothes, and dropped a hundred dollars on the floor like I was a common prostitute. Is that true?”
His expression doesn’t flicker. He’s not smirking like usual.
Just staring—blank, unreadable.
“No,” he finally says. “That’s not true.” His tone is low. Steady. Almost… earnest.
I lean back against the elevator wall, taking in this new version of Jaxon Wilde.
“This,” I say, gesturing to his face. “What is this?”
“What’s what?”
“This,” I repeat, flicking my fingers toward his infuriatingly handsome face. Especially today. Why does he look even better outside of filming? Life isn’t fair.
“What do you mean by ‘this’?” he asks, genuinely confused.
His gaze stays fixed on me, unwavering, like he’s trying to see something in me. I think he’s trying to make me fill the silence, tell him what he wants to know.
“You know what?” I finally say. “We’re not friends. Or lovers. So you don’t get an answer to questions like that.”
The elevator dings.
Just like earlier, Jaxon steps to the threshold and presses a hand to the door, holding it open for me. He does it casually. Almost thoughtlessly.
Is this chivalry? Seriously?
“Questions like what?” he asks as I pass.
I almost stop. Almost answer.
But I don’t want to talk about it. Not to him. Not to anyone.
I haven’t even told Anne why I did it.
Hell, I don’t even know why I do it. That wasn’t the first time.
I can explain the rush, though.
Will they let me get away with it? Is anyone even watching?
I hadn’t done it again after that girl in the drugstore caught me. She made a huge deal about it. I offered to pay, made up some BS excuse.
She looked me dead in the eye and said:
“Bullshit!”
So angry, that one.
So smug. So righteous.
She’d caught a once-rising actress on her little hook, and she wasn’t about to throw me back into the ocean. Not a chance.
But that’s a lot to explain. Especially to a guy I can’t stand.
A guy who’s also… one huge, maddening enigma.
I keep walking.
But at least I raise my hand behind me and say, “Bye.”
Engine idling, I sit in the driver’s seat of my car, fingers clamped around the steering wheel like it’s the only thing keeping me upright. I feel so...
What are the words?
Ding, dum, ding...
I glance at the name flashing across the dash and press Answer.
“That was brutal,” I say.
“You need me to be brutal,” Anne replies without missing a beat. “Your career depends on it. And don’t forget to thank me when you're holding that Best Lead Actress trophy for Next In Line.”
There’s a pause. Then her voice softens, just enough.
“But yeah… as your friend, I was a bitch.” A sigh. “I’ll make it up to you. Come to dinner tonight? You’ve been holed up in that house too long. Not just hiding — disappearing. That’s not healthy, Zara. You need people. You need air. It’s time to come back to the real world, okay?”
I bite down on the back of my teeth and clutch the wheel tighter.
Anne knows me too well. She knows I haven’t been living healthily since the show ended—knows exactly what I’m prone to become when the noise dies down.
And I want that. God, I want it so badly.
The silence. The slipping away. But it’s not good for me.
I will lose everything if I give in to that part of myself.
So, I gut it up, force the words out, and say,
“What time?”