The producer raises his hands in defense, but his smarmy gaze zones in on me, descending to my breasts, the tops visible in my low-cut nightgown. “You’ve definitely left the nunnery, Rose Calloway.” He lets out an amused laugh. “I’ll see you all later.” He pauses in thought “And you know, you and your sisters should all put on that…gold top that Daisy wore at Valentino’s. Great ratings with that episode.” He whistles. “You should see how many people reblogged that picture. Side-boob sells.”
I am going to kill him. I picture myself crawling on all fours towards his body and springing like a lioness, a wild cat, something feral that will claw the eyeballs right out of his sockets. But then I imagine him smirking at the perfect view of my cleavage during the assault. So I regretfully stay seated. Like a lady.
“Get. Out. You shitty fuck,” Loren says slowly like Scott’s a moron.
Scott raises his hands in defense, but he still acts like he holds all the cards. Maybe he does. He owns us and the townhouse we live in. And he has footage to tamper with. We’re just marionettes in his play.
The door shuts. But the tension never leaves. I don’t think it ever will.
Not until the cameras finally stop rolling.
CHAPTER 33
CONNOR COBALT
“She’s twenty-three, in a year-long relationship—”
“Over a year.”
“Over a year, and she’s never had sex. Something is wrong with that girl.”
I watch TMZ from my office desk at Cobalt Inc. before I call it a night and head home. The hallways are desolate, only a janitor left, vacuuming the gray carpet in the break room.
“She definitely has herpes,” a reporter from one of the cubicles says. And the newsroom breaks into laughter. “What else explains it?”
The Alps trip aired last night on GBA. No mention of Rose losing her virginity. But if she saw TMZ slandering her right now, she’d be pissed. They’re shaming every girl her age who wishes to wait.
Rose had no problem with production keeping her virginity a secret. But on the plane ride home, just to test Scott—to see what he would do—she stared right into one of the cameras and professed that she had sex with me. It let Lily off the hook, who had been so unnaturally quiet in fear of spilling the secret to the whole world.
He never showed the footage, probably to keep her “virgin” label on the show intact. And because I’m everyone’s least favorite choice to be with Rose. Her mother so much as said so on the phone. That was one of the hardest conversations I’ve had. I wanted to tell her off, but I bit my tongue and stomached her chiding about not being more caring towards my girlfriend, her daughter.
I mentioned bad editing once and she scoffed and told me to stop using excuses. So I just said, “I’m sorry, Samantha. I’ll be better about it.” And she threatened, “You better. Or I’ll convince Rose to give Scott another chance, which he deserves.”
She truly believes that they dated before. It’s…a new level of insanity for me.
I hate Scott.
But at least he never ruined some of the best sex I’ve ever had. I just want to go home and fuck Rose, forget about all this bullshit and do something that makes both of us feel good. But time isn’t on our side. I fight for more constantly. Wharton is killing me. Cobalt Inc. is manageable. But I’m lucky to make it home by two a.m. each night before she falls asleep.
I stand and gather any papers, stuffing them into a briefcase. Before I leave, I flip through the channels one last time and land on a rerun of Princesses of Philly. I caught a portion of it before, but not this part—where Lo pins Lily on the couch at the cabin. Where he passionately kisses her lips, bringing her into his arms each time he draws her up with a strong inhale.
But his eyes lock on the camera as he does it. As though he’s literally fucking the viewers with his mouth. I rub my lips and try not to laugh. Rose would be infuriated, but Lo has done this so often. I’ve seen a few bumper stickers around Philly that say Fuck me, Loren Hale. Especially after Lily’s latest interview aired. She went into a lengthy explanation about how Loren is the only man able to satisfy all of her sexual needs.
Celebrity Crush even wrote an article, trying to determine the size of his dick. It was horrible journalism, but it’s articles like those that really put into perspective how popular the reality show has become.
And how famous we all suddenly are.
Lily can’t even watch herself make out with Lo during these segments. He covers her eyes. It’s that arousing for her.
I shut off the television, flick off my lights and swallow a couple Adderall. I have a half-completed Wharton project for a management class left to finish. I want to say “hell with it” and have rough sex with my girlfriend instead.
Tying her up and watching her come beats every other task on my to-do list. My body heats just remembering her face the first time I filled her with my cock. Her mouth fell open, and she choked on some of the most gorgeous sounds.
I’ve never felt like she belonged to me more than in that moment. She let me do whatever I wanted to her body, all trust, no barriers or restrictions. I took her as hard as I knew she could withstand, her tightness gripping my cock in a vice that I don’t ever want to forget.
Which is why I plan to go home and do it again.
The elevator is in sight, and I’m already picturing what position I’ll put her in. Face down on the mattress. Hands tied behind her back.
I think I’ll spank her.
“Connor!”
I stop dead in the hallway. There’s only one person who could ruin these beautiful thoughts. Only one other person who’d be working while the janitor finishes his routine. I turn around to confront my mother who quickly approaches me with determined steps.
“I just put my proposal on your desk,” I tell her. Let me go, I silently plead.
“I got it,” she says breezily. “I scheduled a reservation at L’Bleu on Saturday. Seven o’clock. Bring Rose.” She spins and disappears down the hall, leaving no chance for an excuse.
Something foreign presses against my chest. I think it might be anxiety. I open my phone to call Frederick, but I see a missed text instead.
Come home now, please. We have a Lily and Loren problem. – Rose
Shit.
I don’t let my imagination try to predict what kind of problem that could be. I just make a quick exit to the elevator and brace myself for what’s to come.
*
As soon as I walk through the door, I spot Lily and Lo curled up on the couch, reading a comic silently together. “Problems” with those two usually involve screaming, maybe even crying. It’s odd. But I try not to pass judgment until I know the facts.
Before I can even begin to question them, Rose marches down the stairs and grabs my wrist with a lot of force, fire blazing in her eyes. I should be more concerned about the shit storm she’s going to unleash, but my cock has its own agenda, painfully begging for her to redirect that pressure. She tries to lead me to the second level, but I pry her fingers off my wrist.
“I think I know where the bedroom is,” I say.
Her lips tighten in a line, and she blushes. “We’re not having sex right now.”