Chapter 33
— Remmy —
“Oish, you look rough .” Bass accompanied his “good morning” with a grimace from the far end of his kitchen. He slid a coffee across the counter. “Here, you obviously need this more than I do.”
I stared at the steaming black coffee as I sat on the bar stool, still not uttering a word.
Bass’ gaze had narrowed on me when I glanced up. “What’s going on? Over and above the drama,” he clarified.
“It’s nothing,” I grumbled, filled with regret.
Scout had warned me to stay off the internet. Of course I didn’t listen. The only silver lining was that I hadn’t done it last night—I wouldn’t have slept a wink.
“Bullshit,” my brother barked, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. On a sigh, he held out his hand. “It’s too early for this but give me your goddamn phone.”
“No.”
We met each other’s eyes, both holding a glare that was all too familiar.
“Yes,” he hissed back.
I held my ground. Last night he’d been pissed at what strangers were sending me—he’d lose his shit if he knew I’d received multiple death threats overnight. Not only had they infiltrated my socials and emails, my FootFet account had blown up. Not in a good way: In a way that threatened my sole source of income.
That thought alone made my empty stomach curl in on itself. There was one way out though… one I’d need to discuss with Scout.
“Please, Remmy. I know you’ve already read your messages. I can see it on your face, so at least give me the pleasure of blocking the motherfuckers.”
Gaze boring into his, it took a few blinks to clear away the haze before I slid my phone across the counter. He snatched it up while giving me the side-eye. His lips thinned further by the second, and I nervously rolled mine.
Sweat drenched my palms. I wiped them on my PJ shorts while releasing a long, steady breath. It didn’t calm my racing heart in the slightest.
I forced a swallow when Bass’ enraged eyes cut to me. “You’ve received death threats. Multiple. Jesus, Remmy.” He ran a hand down his face, though it didn’t wipe away any of the fury. “How fucking dare people threaten you!”
Prickling tears stung at the back of my throat.
“Does Scout know?” Bass demanded.
“No,” I whispered, shaking my head.
He tossed my phone on the counter and scrubbed both hands up and down his face again. “I can’t believe this.”
It took a lot to rattle me, but strangers coming into my space and throwing direct threats was more than enough to light a fire of fear within my ribcage.
I pressed the base of my palms into my eye sockets and released a shuddering exhale. “I can’t believe it either, Bass.”
“I’m glad you came back here instead of staying at your place.” With a forced exhale that flared his nostrils, he snatched up my phone again and thumbed in my pin. Any other time I would have called him on it. Not today though.
After blocking and deleting multiples of messages while I sipped on the cooling coffee, my brother set his elbows on the counter and looked me dead in the eye. My heart dived as he shook his head subtly. The sorrow and worry in his expression kicked me right in the lungs.
Putting on a brave front, I held out my hand. “Give it here. I’m going to disable my socials.”
“Good idea. And what about your FootFet account?”
My pulse kicked for an entirely different reason. “I can’t.” I needed that money. “But on that note, I got a proposition overnight.”
His dark eyebrows hit his hairline before they pulled low. “What type of proposition?”
“The kind that’s almost too good to be true.”
He circled his hand impatiently.
“A request by a new client to be exclusive. Make content only for him,” I explained.
Skepticism colored my brother’s face. “How much?”
“Twenty grand a month.”
He choked on his tongue. “Twenty grand a month? That’s nearly a quarter of a mil!”
I chewed on my lower lip. “Should I accept?”
“How much do you currently earn?”
“A shade over half that.”
Bastian’s eyebrows shot high again. “Are you serious ? Hell, I’d foot-fuck a dildo for that kind of money.”
I barked a laugh. “With your feet…? Pa-lease.”
He pushed his hips back to look directly down at his feet. “They aren’t that bad.”
I snorted. “Sure.”
With a huff, he poured himself a fresh mug of coffee, black, just like I took it, then topped off my mug.
“So, is this guy—I’m assuming it’s a dude—is he a current client, or a new one?”
Hot coffee washed over my tongue, and I hummed while swallowing. “New one. From Dallas apparently.”
Bass looked unconvinced. “How do you know that he’s not seedy as fuck?”
I shrugged. “Honestly? I don’t. But there would be an ironclad NDA and legally binding contract if I were to accept his proposal.”
“Is he likely to sign it?”
“He suggested it.” My eyes dropped briefly to the mug as I turned it in tiny, thoughtful circles. “I think I should. At least while everything is so uncertain. It’s my only income, Bass. I need to protect it.”
“And Scout’s okay with it so far?”
“So far.”
Bastian shrugged. “So do it. If you look at it purely from a business sense, you’d be a fool not to accept it. But only once you’ve had a lawyer go over it with a fine-tooth comb.”
I thrust my fingers into my hair and massaged my scalp. “I’ll find one to draw something up.”
Bass’ eyes narrowed. “It can’t be just any ol’ one, Remmy.”
Unable to help myself, I smirked. “I know this. Besides, I can handle myself, brother.”
“No shit,” he grumbled. “And I know one other thing for sure: Your ass is about to be richer than it currently is.”
I bit down on my smile and raised my coffee. “I’ll cheers to that.”
His shit-eating grin lit the kitchen. “Cheers, you fortuitous bitch.”