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  "I appreciate you seeing me on short notice," Greg said as they all sat down—him on the couch and the two fixers on the chairs facing him. It wasn't as cozy as the private conference room they had been in the first time Greg had come here, but he bet it wasn't supposed to be. It was a business office after all.

  "We're happy to help," Shawn assured him.

  "I got a call from my agent," Greg started, brushing his fingers over his eyebrow. "Marlow, the VP of Dot Entertainment, is still trying to make something out of nothing. He's dodging my agent's calls, but he's talking with other board members."

  "How does your agent know?" Shawn asked.

  Greg offered him a lopsided smile. "She often tells me she knows everything, and the scary thing is, she usually does. I'm pretty sure that if she was here, she would've looked straight through this whole plan on day one."

  Shawn's lips twitched. "If she ever wants to change careers and relocate, let us know. We could use someone like that."

  "I wouldn't hold my breath." Greg told him. "Anyway, she learned that Marlow's still trying to stir trouble. At this point, it looks more and more like a personal vendetta, even if nobody over there will admit it. The guy had never liked me, and then he found himself a reason to hate me even more. And I don't really care, other than it can cost me this." He took a deep breath. "I just wanted to ask what's the best thing to do here. Should I call the rest of the Dot's board and try to win them over? Should I pretend I know nothing about it? Something else?"

  "Something else like leaking the story about your Broadway debut?" Shawn asked.

  Greg shook his head. "I'm not doing that."

  "It wouldn't be—"

  "I don't care," Greg interrupted Shawn. "I've told you before. That would create bad blood all around and cost the theater a lot of money if Dot decided to pull the plug out of spite. The company took a risk to give me this chance and accommodate me. Besides, one of my best friends works there. I'm not using them as a bargaining chip. Oh, and last but not least, they could take me to court for this and win."

  Shawn nodded. "Okay then."

  Greg frowned. He expected a bigger fight. "That's it?"

  The two fixers exchanged smirks before Shawn turned back to him. "I'm only tossing ideas at you. I'm not going to fight you for one until I really think it's the one." He shrugged. "And you're right, this one is messy."

  "What's the least messy option, then?" Greg asked.

  "Leaving it alone," Nate told him. "You may not like that either, but that's what it is." He sighed. "Listen, I know the time's running out, and the tension's flying high because you don't know what they're going to do and that sucks. But you only have a week of that left and then you're free to stay in New York without care of what they think. The story of you dating Sylvia is solid. Reaching out to people from that company and trying to play them now could look suspicious. Like maybe you're trying too hard."

  Shawn nodded. "If they call you, that's different. You can play an open book and say all the right things—'I want to make this the best option for all of us', 'We're a team, it's just that it's really important to me', et cetera, et cetera. But when you're the one to reach out, you're opening yourself to hits."

  "With the agreement I have, I'm like a piñata already. It's like I'm guilty until proven otherwise."

  "And you proved otherwise," Nate pointed out. "So don't put yourself in a lost position. Reinforce the notion that there's nothing wrong, nothing to worry about. You don't call them yourself when you're in L.A., right?"

  "My agent handles that, unless there's an emergency." Greg sat back against the couch cushions. He was starting to see their point.

  "And this, now, won't be seen as an emergency until you make it look like one," Nate said, sitting back as well.

  Shawn nodded. "The appearance is what counts now. You're in New York, and you're dating a nice woman, neither of you causes any trouble, and the media basically coos over you. Dot has no room to complain. To be honest, if they try something, I'd consult the best entertainment lawyer you can find, because I'd argue malicious intent on their part."

  Greg sighed. "You're right. The best thing's to sit back and wait it out, but…" He shrugged. Waiting around had never come easily to him.

  "But you want to do something to help push matters forward," Shawn finished for him. "That's understandable. It's just simply not the best way to deal with this particular case."

  "I get it." Greg nodded. "I'll tell myself it's only nerves as often as I need to." He sent them a dry smile. "Thanks for this, guys. I mean it."

  Nate shrugged. "That's what we're here for. We won't stop working until your deal is up. If anything happens, don't hesitate to call us."

  Shawn glanced at Nate before looking back at Greg. "I have a question—did you ask to see us specifically when you knew Sylvia wouldn't be here?"

  "No, I got the call and then contacted you right after I left the theatre. I didn't plan beyond that." He hesitated. He could end it here and it wouldn't even be a complete lie, more like…not sharing the whole truth. But these guys proved themselves to be observant and smart. They knew there was something else, and he didn't want any confusion. "I was relieved it turned out like it did, though."

  "Why?" Nate asked, and there was an edge in his voice now that wasn't there before.

  Greg looked straight at him. "Because I don't want to pull her further into this. She's been doing me a big favor already, but I don't want to put her on a spot again. It's not…" He paused, searching for the right words. "It's not who we are to each other now." He looked from Nate to Shawn and back. "I also don't think any special media coverage of the two of us is going to help at this point."

  He got a nod from Nate, and after that they quickly wrapped up the conversation. They exchanged goodbyes, and Greg headed for the door, but Nate stopped him before he opened them.

  "On a personal note, I appreciate you're trying to do things right with Sylvia," he told Greg, voice low, as if Shawn couldn't hear him from a few feet away at his desk. "But from years of experience, I also know that she doesn't like to be treated like she can't handle herself. You may want to remember that going forward."

  "I'm not—"

  Nate shook his head. "I'm not insinuating that you are. As I said, I appreciate your effort. That was only a piece of advice."

  Greg nodded. He didn't doubt that Sylvia could handle herself, he just didn't want to add stress to an already difficult situation. Between the ruse for the press and them becoming more than a pretend couple, he didn't want it to turn messy.

  He glanced at the empty front desk as he was walking out.

  Messier, he corrected in his head.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  SYLVIA SPENT half her Saturday recording and editing new videos for her channel, and she finally published the two that were supposed to have gone out in the last few weeks. She had stopped putting anything out there when she'd woken up to thousands of notifications in her inbox a day after the photos of her and Greg had been posted all over the Internet—and all over the world, it seemed. She'd frozen at the numbers. There seemed to be a never-ending influx of new subscribers, new comments, and new messages on every social media account she had linked to the vlog channel.

  She hadn't touched any of it for weeks, but today, with Greg spending the entire day at the rehearsals, she decided to stop avoiding and actually act like a grown-up she was supposed to be.

  After handling the videos, she went on to tackle the inbox and social media. She started with the comments under various videos—and there seemed to be new comments under every one of them. Some of them were nice and actually on topic. There had been a few people who shared her Broadway love, and she made a note of a few of their vlogs to check out later on.

  But a lot of people didn't care about her content at all. Sylvia's stomach clenched harder at every comment about how she looked, how she talked, how she wasn't good enough for Greg Abrams… How she wasn't anything special at all.
A comment about her being an actor groupie had hundreds of likes, and she found herself blinking back tears. And that wasn't even the worst thing they called her.

  Sylvia had been on and around the Internet communities long enough to have seen her fair share of haters and trolls, but, aside from a few random comments here and there, they were never directed at her. She had never been famous enough to acquire attention like that.

  She disabled the notifications about new comments and logged off. After closing her laptop, she sat there for a while, staring at her wall where a framed poster from Les Miserables' twenty-fifth anniversary show was hanging next to the one from Hamilton.

  She closed her eyes, wishing Greg was here.

  She knew it was stupid and dangerous to feel like this. Their time together could end at any point, after all. It would end, sooner or later, no matter what. She should be preparing herself for that, she just…didn't know how.

  ***

  Hours later, Greg fell asleep with his head in her lap as they watched a movie, and Sylvia kept absentmindedly running her fingers through his hair. She'd figured out how the story was going to end about halfway through, so only part of her was paying attention to the screen.

  The other part was circling back to the same questions, over and over.

  What happens if he stays? What happens if he goes?

  If he stays, will we continue seeing each other? Does he want to? Do I want to, even with all the mess it has brought me?

  She only had one clear answer, and it was a definite yes to that last question. She wanted him in her life for as long as she could have him. But what did Greg want? He enjoyed the sex—that, at least, was clear—but was that it? Were they supposed to stop seeing each other when the deal was up? Or maybe keep sleeping with each other, no strings attached, until it was time for Greg to go back to L.A.? Or maybe—

  "You're thinking too hard," Greg mumbled, his voice muffled as his face was pressed against her skin.

  Sylvia paused her caress, and he grumbled in protest before rolling onto his back to look up at her.

  "Sorry I fell asleep," he said. "I must have been more tired than I thought."

  "The rehearsals are kicking your butt?" She ran a hand through his hair again. She still had no idea what role Greg was going to play, and she tried not to take it as a bad sign. He'd explained things to her. She was fine.

  "A bit, yeah." He caught her other hand in his own and rested them over his stomach as his thumb caressed her fingers. "But I think it's mostly the stress of waiting. I want the wait to be over already so I know where I stand." He drummed his fingers over his chest, right above their joined hands. "Everything should right itself then."

  What does "right" mean for us? she wanted to ask, but she sucked her lower lip in to keep quiet.

  "Can I do something to help?" she asked instead. She didn't mean anything sexual, but when his gaze dropped to her lips and his hand tightened its grip over hers, Sylvia could feel the stir of heat in her body.

  "I think we can find a relaxation technique we could both enjoy very much." His lazy grin made her stomach flip, and she tightened her fingers in his hair, pulling without thinking.

  Greg let out a bit-off moan, so she did it again. Next thing Sylvia knew, he was off the couch and reaching out a hand to help pull her up. She chuckled but didn't have to be asked twice. She stood up and let him lead her to the bedroom.

  As he walked in front of her, she admired his body once again. The lines of his back muscles were visible through a tight T-shirt and the black jeans were doing amazing things for his ass. Everything about him called to her, inside and out.

  At this rate, she was going to end up ruined for other men after this.

  When they got to the bedroom, Greg reached for the bottom of her blouse and lifted it, nudging her to raise her arms so that he could pull it all the way off. Then he ran his fingers over the edges of her bra, making her shiver. Sylvia tried to reach out and touch him, as well, but he brought her hands back down.

  "Let me," he whispered, leaning in to kiss a line down her neck and along her collarbone until he came up to the strap of her bra. He pushed it off slowly with one finger, then moved to the other side of her body and did the same thing before finally unhooking the bra. He caught it before it fell onto the ground and tossed it onto the armchair where it joined her blouse.

  When he ran his hands low on her stomach and over the edge of her jeans, she had a fleeting thought that he was drawing lines on her body only to cross them later on. For some reason, she found it hot beyond belief. It seemed like asking permission and then conquering when she didn't protest, and that made her want to give him more than this if he ever asked. Made her want to give him something he was probably never going to ask for—her heart.

  Too late, she thought when he tugged her jeans and panties off of her. Too late, when he guided her to lie in the middle of the bed. Too late, when he covered her body with his, fully dressed, and then kissed, and kissed, and kissed her all over, until she was writhing under him, with her hands clasping the sheets as she came with his tongue inside her.

  Worth it, she thought later on, when he was fucking her slowly, making her moan and swallowing the sounds she made as he kissed her until she came again, her body tightening around him and pulling him with her over the edge.

  Worth it.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE DAY Marlow and Dot Entertainment were going to lose their power to take him away from New York, Greg woke up alone in his hotel room. Sylvia had had a ladies' night with her friends the previous day, and it wasn't until Greg had gone to bed that it hit him that it was the first night they spent apart since they'd gotten together.

  He tossed and turned for hours, coming up with more and more ridiculous reasons for Dot to make him go back. He fell into a restless sleep at some point, but when the alarm went off, the last thing he wanted was to get out of bed.

  He finally dragged himself out when it was almost time for him to leave. He rushed through his morning routine and didn't even check his phone, so he didn't read any of his messages before he was in the car on the way to the theater.

  His agent had sent him a link with added "CALL ME ASAP!!!" note, and Greg felt his stomach clench as he waited for the website to load. What he found there was possibly the most ridiculous article about him that had come out in the recent weeks. The reporter claimed that Greg's co-star and former girlfriend, Janice Cornwell, had told her friends she and Greg had reconnected and she was hopeful they would get back together.

  Reconnected. Greg hadn't talked to Janice for ages. Sure, they had both attended the Academy Awards earlier in the year, but if sitting in the same room counted as reconnecting, Greg had "reconnected" with a few hundred people that night.

  He dropped the phone on the seat next to him. Janice wasn't a person who would say something like that for a few seconds of fame in the gossip column, so it could be completely made up by the reporter. After all, it wouldn't be the first time—he'd been through numerous rumors about girlfriends and a few about boyfriends.

  But Greg would bet money it was Marlow's last try to mess with him. It was quite a desperate move, though—not to mention late.

  He wished he could call the guy and face this openly. He wanted to tell him to leave him alone and stop messing with his life just because he could. He wanted—

  His phone rang and Nate's ID appeared on the screen. Greg took a deep breath.

  "Hello?"

  "Hi, I'm glad I caught you early. I don't know if you saw—"

  Greg curled his fingers into a fist. "I saw it. It's bogus and I'm sure it's Marlow. The timing's too convenient."

  "I figured," Nate said. "That's why I called. You can't do anything about it. I get that it pissed you off, I can hear that, but now is not the time to get stupid."

  "I wasn't actually going to call him," Greg said, voice tight and too biting. He took a deep breath and was about to apologize, but Nate didn't give him time.r />
  "Good. It's nothing but a desperate attempt to stir something. I'd say it's bark over bite, but it's not even that. It's more of a yelp of someone who's about to throw in a towel."

  Greg exhaled slowly. "Why now?"

  "To provoke you, to make you act out. It's the last day, so you start thinking you're free and maybe you'll make a mistake. That's what I'd guess, at least. Because even a half-decent lawyer will tell Dot the article is nothing they can use."

  "Okay." Greg's shoulders dropped. He wasn't going to relax until the day was over, but Nate talked him off the ledge at least. "Do you know if Sylvia has seen it?"

  "I don't think so. She told us yesterday she's avoiding the Internet." Nate paused. "You haven't talked to her today?"

  "No, not yet. I wanted to come pick her up after work and take her somewhere to celebrate, if…when it's over." Greg stared through the window. Only a few hours left. "I should get the final news this afternoon, and I'll head to your office straight away."

  "Good, okay. Keep your cool and you'll be fine," Nate told him. "See you in a few hours, but call me if anything happens in the meantime."

  They said their goodbyes and Greg disconnected. He needed to call his agent and his publicist, and then he needed to focus on the rehearsal. To hell with Marlow and his stupid tricks, Greg was not going to lose this fight right before it was over.

  ***

  The rehearsal wasn't a complete disaster, but it was probably his worst day since they'd started. He fumbled the lines a few times and missed the mark once, and he kept losing his focus on the character. He wasn't the only one tense, either. Everybody knew today was the make-or-break for his chances at staying, and even their unflappable director was on edge.