Page 48 of Pretty Wild

But Marcus enjoyed it. In fact, he may have enjoyed it more than me. Well, notmorethan me, but he was a serious fan. Seeing my juices glisten on his face, coating his lips and chin, was epically erotic, and my thighs are clenching at the thought of seeing it again. Is it bad to shoot him a text and ask? I’m not above begging.

At the end of our sexed-up night, I left with an extra pep in my step and thighs that burned from his stubble. It was perfect.

Now, I’m trying to decide how to spend my Tuesday. Marcus is at work, so it’s not like I can buzz through the pathway to his cabin and jump his bones. Or specifically, a very large bone. If I thought he had big dick energy before, last night only confirmed it. He’s practically the president of the big dick man club.

Grabbing my phone, I take a sip of my coffee and grab a seat at the small dinette. I haven’t paid much attention to my device since I arrived on Friday, so I’m sure I’ve got plenty of communications to catch up on. The scent of fresh caramel infused coffee with yummy sugar-free Italian cream fills the air. It may not be an eight-dollar cup of Joe from a coffee shop or café, but it’ll do, all things considered.

The number shown above the text message icon is staggering, so I tap the email app first. I scroll through, deleting spam and advertising emails, and click on one from my business manager. Ariana was the perfect fit for the job when I was searching for someone to help run the day-to-day business for Ryan Holmes Cosmetics. She has a decade of experience under her hat and came highly recommended by several in the industry.

I read through her message and make a few notes in my calendar for when I return to Los Angeles. We’ll start working on our winter line then, introducing a new palate of gorgeous colors, as well as more skincare products. I’m incredibly giddy at the thought, ready to show the world I’m not just a one-hit wonder, that my business has the staying power.

When I’ve finished my notes, I click over to the phone app and hit her name.

“I was starting to get worried you were eaten by a bear or something,” she says in way of greeting.

“Don’t put that out there,” I say, taking another sip of coffee. “I was told there are bears in the area.”

“Well, you need to get bear spray or something,” she replies.

“Do they have bear spray?” I wonder. Maybe I should order some.

I’m greeted by a pregnant pause. “I’ll check Amazon.”

Smiling, I jump into business. “I received your email. Everything looks good to me. I’ve added notes to my calendar and can meet you when I return.”

“Perfect. I’ve asked the design team to start putting together compact layout samples. Last we talked, you didn’t want to do traditional marketing and product displays for the winter release. Is that still the case?”

“Yes. I want to combine classic with edgy for this release,” I confirm, ideas swirling through my brain.

“That’s what I told them. I’ll reach out and make sure we’re all on the same page. Maybe by the time you return to LA they’ll have some design concepts for you to look at.”

“I like that,” I say, taking another sip of coffee.

We talk business for a few more minutes, running through sales numbers and projections. By the time that’s over, she switches gears on me. “There’s one more thing. The network called the office. They said you weren’t answering your phone.”

“I’m not answering anyone’s calls,” I reply lamely.

“And with good reason. I gave—what’s his name? Bradley?— a piece of my mind when I had him on the phone,” she states, starting to get a little heated.

“I don’t need you to fight my battles, Ari,” I reply. The communication from the network isn’t unexpected, but Ididask them to give me space while I sorted a few things out.

“Well, if that guy was standing in front of me, I would have kneed him straight in the balls.”

I can’t help but giggle. “You’re not the only one,” I mumble, mostly to myself.

“Anyway, this is me giving you the message, like I said I would. I can’t tell you what to do, but as your business managerandfriend, I think you should do exactly what you told him you were doing. Take the time off and work through the crap in your head. What he and the network did to you on that finale is bullshit, Ryan. Pure bullshit. They deserve to sit and sweat a little bit.”

“I signed a contract for two years,” I remind her, wishing I hadn’t, but when the network pitched me the idea, they swore it would be a ratings gold mine and that two years was nothing in the grand scheme of things. Look at the Kardashians.

I was eager to get my name and new brand out there, and what better way to do so than a behind-the-scenes look at what I was doing. Two years seemed like nothing at the time. Two seasons. Forty total episodes. I could totally allow cameras to invade my life for a few hours a week, right?

“Get out of it. Contracts like this always have early-out clauses, right?”

I close my eyes and think about the clause that’s printed in black and white with my name scribbled on the last page. Not only would I have to pay a huge sum of money to terminate the contract, I’d have to cover costs for every episode not fulfilled, and the number wasn’t pretty. Not that I couldn’t dip into my trust fund to get out of it, if I absolutely had to. I’m sure Mom would understand. She invested in my initial start-up, so I wouldn’t feel right to ask for her help either.

“They do, but mine has some pretty heavy financial and legal repercussions.”

“Well, that’s bullshit,” she sputters out, angry on my behalf.

---