Chapter 33: Ed

I sat in the restaurant, waiting for Michelle to grant me the privilege of her company, and scrolled through socials. Several photos of Soph floated through the Twittersphere. Some candid, where she'd posed, others not so much.

One particular shot had gathered traction and gossip. A picture could paint a narrative so far from the truth it could win literary prizes. Still, something had clearly happened for Mark's hand to be on her back like that. He didn't normally touch without reason.

The caption read, Teddy's ex and her bodyguard were literally all over each other. Couldn't keep their hands to themselves. Clearly Aaron wasn't the only one she was messing around with?

Of course there was no photo of Soph touching Mark, so even if I were a gullible dick who didn't trust his girlfriend, logic would suggest any contact had been too brief to capture.

It was the middle of the night there now, but I took a screenshot and pinged it across to Mark.

Me: Is she okay?

Predictably, he started to type instantly.

Mark Anderson: Yes. Got a bit panicked when two girls asked for a photo but they were fine.

Me: She back home now?

Mark Anderson: I walked her to the door.

Me: Where was Logan?

Mark Anderson: Otherwise engaged.

Tightness crept into my jaw. Still, at least if he was sleeping with someone else then he wasn't trying it on with Soph.

Mark Anderson: Have I passed the test? Can I go to sleep now?

"Hey! Sorry I'm late. You look gorgeous."

Michelle tottered over to me in heels so high they could be classed as weapons. I rose to give her a polite hug, then shot off my reply to Mark.

Me: Yes. My date has arrived now. Speak tomorrow.

I dropped my phone into my jacket pocket and pasted on a smile for Michelle.

"Bad traffic?"

She pouted. "Don't be grumpy. It takes time to look like this." She gestured to her body before carefully lowering herself into the chair opposite.

Already eyes were on us. I'd expected that, and maybe it would work in my favour if I did want to shed some of my good-guy skin, but I still needed Michelle to cooperate. Ironically, she had a touch of Lacey about her: unpredictable and uncaring. That made her a risk. I now understood all those warnings from Helen and Mark when I'd first started seeing her.

"So, good news!" She fluffed up her hair and flashed me a grin. "Henry is on board with the song change."

"Oh, wow. That is good news."

"You still up for being in the video?"

"Sure."

"Great! My creative vision for you is quite specific. It involves you and me, in a bed. Maybe a little kissing—"

"No. No kissing."

"Fine. No kissing. I was actually joking about the bed too, but hey, if you're cool with that then I totally am..."

I glanced around the restaurant. When booking the table, I'd gone with my usual approach of privacy yet visibility. Nobody would be able to hear our conversation, but they'd be able to see body language.

And they'd definitely be able to see her foot rubbing against my ankle.

"Michelle." I pulled my feet beneath my chair and crossed my ankles. "I need to be straight with you."

"Uh-oh." Her eyes twinkled.

"The flirting isn't going to be reciprocated."

"Is that some polite way of saying you're not interested?" She didn't seem offended, but I was struggling to tell what was real and what was a front.

Ironic.

"You're five years younger than me, and it's not a good idea when we're going to be working together."

"Plus you don't like me very much."

Ouch. That was brutal. Definitely couldn't confirm that.

"I do like you. I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

"You can barely tolerate me, and you're only here because of a professional obligation. It's fine, Teddy. I don't mind the rejection, but I do mind being lied to. If we're going to work together, we at least need respect between us."

I resisted the urge to hold up my hands in apology. Couldn't have onlookers catching wind of a disagreement.

"You're right," I said. "How about a show of good faith on my part?"

"I'm listening." She leaned back in her seat and drummed her pointy nails against the tablecloth.

"Stop calling me Teddy and start calling me Ed. Only my friends and close confidantes get to call me that."

It was pretty weak as far as olive branches were concerned, but her eyes sparked with interest.

"Huh. That your real name?"

"Yes."

"Okay, cool." She picked up her menu and disappeared behind it.

Had I hurt her feelings? Impossible to tell.

"You already decided what you want?" She peered at me over the top of her booklet.

"I had plenty of time to read the menu while waiting for you."

I meant it as a joke, but she snapped the menu shut with enough panache to draw nearby diners' attention over to our table.

"Tell me how you do it." She pursed her lips, gaze flickering over my body. "How you keep that barrier. You're nothing like interviews. You're actually a bit of a dick."

Guilt squeezed my throat. "I was only teasing. Sorry if it came across as a dig."

Surely I wasn't that different? Although, it couldn't be a bad thing. If she already saw someone different, maybe there was hope.

"If I don't get to flirt, you don't get to tease," she said.

Fair. Maybe teasing could be construed as a mixed message.

"I could argue this version of you is different to TikTok," I pointed out.

"It is." She shrugged. "This is my barrier. Hiding behind sex and sass. Some people like it, which is great. And those who don't, I know it's not really me they don't like."

"Smart. As long as you're not doing something you're not comfortable with."

We paused to place our orders, and I could feel the venomous stare from my companion as I shot a charming smile at the waiter. Once he'd left, I was quick to speak up before she had chance to call me out again.

"Mine was a safety net," I said. "Bad anxiety when I first entered the industry. I wanted to create a person who couldn't easily be dragged through the mud by the press. Only, it backfired on me, because they dragged someone I cared about through the mud instead."

She hummed and stared at her nails. "You might be giving yourself too much credit. People love dragging women through the mud regardless, even better if they can link it to a woman's sexual freedom."

"Either way, she didn't deserve it."

"I can destroy your reputation in a week, but probably better it's a slow decline. More consistent."

Apprehension tickled my stomach. I needed this. For Soph. That didn't make it easier, though. Ten years of work. The safety net snatched from beneath me.

"Slow is better," I agreed. "Can't be written off as a bad day."

She tipped her chin towards me. "And this? The moody asshole I've spent time with these last few days? Is that the real you or a bad day?"

"Bit of both." I trailed my fingers down my tie. "I'm not having a great time mentally, but I'm not putting on a front for you either."

She held up her palms, evidently not as concerned about her body language as me. That could be coached out of her.

"I'd rather have an honest asshole than a fake nice guy."

"I'm not usually an asshole. I promise."

"Good, because I don't get on with assholes."

Over the course of dinner, she asked mature, considered questions about navigating life in the spotlight. The more she spoke, the more apparent it became that she wanted a barrier between her private life and public one.

"I could control everything on TikTok. How I presented myself. What I said. If anything went wrong, I could redo it."

"What's your worst fear?" I asked.

She glanced up from her plate and quirked her lips. "We don't know each other well enough for that question."

"I'm not asking for anything deep. You said you could control TikTok, so what exactly do you worry about not being able to control?"

"Probably live interviews. My mind going blank. Saying something I shouldn't."

I took a sip of water. "You had any media training?"

"A little. I guess I don't have the need for it yet. But I'd still rather be prepared. Get the practice in now so I'm well oiled for when I need it?"

"I can do media training with you."

Her eyebrows darted upwards. "You can?"

"Sure. I've been given some great training over the years. It's stuck with me."

"That would be amazing. Thank you."

Every so often, something softer leaked through her hard shell. She wanted my help forging a barrier, but she already had something in place. It wasn't my place to pry.

An hour later, we paid the bill and headed outside for our cars. A gush of cold air replaced the cosy warmth of the restaurant.

"Paparazzi on the other side of the street," Jeremy said to me under his breath.

I held open the door for Michelle and whispered in her ear as she passed, "Photographers across the road."

It was a futile warning. The bright flashes gave them away.

"Does this mean I'll be your girlfriend by tomorrow?" Her teeth chattered through the joke.

"I know you said you could destroy me in a week, but you'll probably be torn apart just like Soph was. They always find a way to spin it."

Tutting, she rolled her eyes. "I was actually planning to rotate in some hot friends of mine so you get pictured with multiple women, but thanks for your concern."

She wrapped her arms around her upper body and bobbed on the spot. Spring hadn't hit New York yet, and the air held a bitter chill this late at night.

"Want my jacket?" I offered.

"Does it smell as good as you?"

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"I'd love your jacket, but..." She jerked her head towards the white lights. "Are you sure you want to?"

"I'm a gentleman," I said. "Let's see how they spin it."

I shrugged off the blazer and draped it over her bare shoulders. Her fingers came up to replace mine, pulling the lapels across her chest like a blanket.

"Much better." She smiled up at me. "Thanks."

"Not such an asshole, hm?"

"Yeah, you're starting to grow on me."

I chuckled and slid my hands into my pockets. Hopefully the car arrived soon so I could get inside and prewarn Soph about the photos she'd end up seeing tomorrow.

"I've been thinking about the video, and—" She turned back to face me, stumbled, and fell into my body.

I reached out to catch her, hands gripping her waist to set her upright again. As soon as she'd caught her balance, she stepped out of my grasp.

"Sorry." Her eyes darted across the road. "I swear that wasn't intentional."

Flashes became a sea of white. She'd tripped right into me, but the body contact couldn't have been more than a couple of seconds. I'd been around long enough, though. Photographers were quick; they could catch anything.

Michelle's car pulled up to the curb, and she handed my jacket back.

"Thanks for tonight," she said. "See you tomorrow?"

I nodded and opened the door for her. "Take care."

As the car drove away, the flashes stopped. Funny that. Still, I had a job to do and hopefully tonight had laid the foundations.

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