“And you don’t think I can pull off promoting it because why?”
“Because this seems to be a game to you. You’ve invested all this time and money in something that according to Robert, the beta test group has raved about and found success with . . . and yet, you seem so clinical and cavalier about it.”
“Businesses often are clinical.”
“And that attitude will shine through to the consumer. We could fake a relationship until the cows come home, but if you don’t believe in us or the product, they’ll see right through it.”
“So you’re psychic now, are you? Able to see what a disaster I’ll be before I even get started?”
“Maybe I’m wrong . . . but I’d hate to be right.” She falls silent, and I just stare at her picture on my screen and hate that every part of me knows she’s got a point. Not that I’d ever admit it.
“That’s such a crock,” I say.
“We’ll see about that. You know what they say about male pride, Zane?”
“What’s that?”
“It comes before every great downfall.” Her laugh fills the line, and it’s all I hear before she ends the connection without another word. But hell if she didn’t just lay down a challenge I have every intention of proving wrong.
I’ll do the damn promotional tour.
I’ll make every friggin’ single woman want to be on the platform so they can fall in love. Even the married ones.
Then I’ll tell her she was wrong.
Dead wrong.
Fucking contests.
They get me every time.
“I SNUCK SOME CONDOMS IN your suitcase, mija.”
“Jesus, Mother. What happened to keeping an aspirin between my knees?” I asked.
“Sometimes you gotta go for the gusto!”
“Something is seriously wrong with you,” I said through a laugh.
“Perhaps, but just like the secret stash of candy I loaded in your backpack, I needed to make sure you were prepared.”
“There will be food on the bus, you know.”
“I know.” She shrugged. “But I also know I’m going to miss you and this is my little way of letting you know.”
I hated that tears burned my eyes, but I knew that if I let them show, she’d be more worried about me than she was already feigning not to be. “I’m going to be perfectly fine.”
“Of course you are. You’re my girl.”
“And I’m going to miss you more than you know.”
“Nonsense. You’re going to have so much fun.” When that dreamy smile of hers ghosted over her lips, I leveled her with a glare.
“Stop it. Nothing is going to happen. He’s my boss. He’s still a jerk—”
“A jerk who gave you an incredible job,” she corrected. “Kind of like a prince swooping in to save the day.”
“Now I’ve heard it all,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “Let’s hope while I’m gone you find a man yourself so you can stop dreaming up fairytales about my life and make them about your own instead.” I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her tight. We both sniffled but pretended we didn’t. “It’s just work. That’s all.”
“It’ll be work, but it’ll be fun.”
It’ll be work, but it’ll be fun.
My mom’s words from our conversation earlier today replay in my head as I suck in a deep breath to manage the nerves buzzing through me.
I can put my body on display in lingerie. Walk a catwalk without flinching or meeting a single person’s eyes. But there is something about the people staring at me—not the clothes I’m tasked with showing off—that make it feel like they’re closer, more real.
It’s just the first event jitters. Night one and fifty-ish more to go. At least we’re still in Los Angeles. My home turf where there are a few familiar faces out in the crowd—all wondering no doubt when exactly I hooked up and became the girlfriend of Zane Phillips.
Because with the launch of the ad campaign came curiosity from the public along with the media’s scrutinous attention. How did the entrepreneur and quasi-playboy known for hanging with the Hollywood it crowd suddenly go from single-and- ready-to mingle to smitten and monogamous?
The audience laughs and brings me back, settling my nerves.
Time to earn my money and convince those who know me best that I really am in love with him. If I can pull this off, then the rest of the trip will be a breeze.
“Why is SoulM8 different?” Zane asks the audience before sliding a hand around my waist, pulling me against him, and planting a chaste kiss to the side of my head as if it were the most natural action in the world. “Because it works.”
A muffled laugh goes through the audience and I fight my own instinct to stiffen when he touches me.
Play the part, Low.
“Such a man thing to say,” I say through a chuckle and pat his cheek before turning back to the audience. The theater is a good size but the feel is intimate. I can see the faces of the people in attendance. Men and women alike dressed in business attire, expressions intrigued, body language engaged, hope of finding their soul mate in this hectic world sparkling in their eyes.
“Would you want me any other way?” Our eyes meet and for the briefest of moments, I acknowledge to myself that I was wrong.