Page 103 of The Jack*ss in Class

I wanted it all.

We hit three more clubs, danced our asses off, and when dawn broke, Gryff said he’d had enough of our disgustingly cute lovey-dovey-ness and went back to the hotel. Tempest and I found some hole-in-the-wall diner for breakfast.

“I’m never dancing all night ever again,” Tempest groaned stretching her legs out, hiding her face in her hands as we waited for our breakfast order.

“That’s what they all say.” I slid her foot into my lap, popped off her shoe and rubbed it. “Here. This might help.”

She leaned back and groaned, then reached for her water. “I can’t believe your brother got us to close down the club.”

I shook my head. “He’s an all-in or nothing guy, and last night, he was definitely all-in.”

“Must run in the family.” Her smile was soft, knowing.

The waitress set down a carafe of coffee and a pitcher of water without being asked. Bless her.

I poured us each a cup, and caught sight of something on the screen of the restaurant’s TV. The sound was muted, but the headline was clear. “MIRANDA MILAN’S BEST-SELLING SERIES COMING TO FLIXNCHILL.”

“Tempest,” I said quietly, nodding toward the screen.

She turned, her cup freezing halfway to her mouth.

The screen showed a glamorous shot of what must have been her book cover, then cut to some entertainment reporter. “...mysterious author may finally be unveiled as production begins.”

Tempest’s coffee cup shattered on the floor.

MEASURE FOR MEASURE

TEMPEST

The sound of ceramic shattering against tile echoed in my ears long after the actual noise faded. Time slowed as I watched coffee spread across the restaurant floor, dark liquid seeping between pristine white tiles. A server rushed over with a rag and dustpan, his mouth moving with apologies I couldn’t process.

“I’m so sorry,” I managed, the words feeling detached from my body. “I didn’t mean to?—”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Flynn’s hand covered mine on the table, his touch warm against my suddenly ice-cold skin. “Tempest? Are you alright?”

I wasn’t alright. I was drowning in panic, my chest so tight I could barely breathe. The television mounted on the wall behind Flynn was broadcasting my execution.

“...exclusive announcement about the adaptation of best-selling author Miranda Milan’s sports romance series...”

The FlixNChill executive’s facefilled the screen, her practiced smile revealing nothing about their plans for the “special reveal” mentioned in the teaser.

“Tempest,” Flynn’s voice broke through my spiral. “Talk to me.”

I forced myself to meet his eyes, those blue eyes that had looked at me with such tenderness when I’d finally trusted him with my secret. Just yesterday, I’d felt brave. Today, that bravery felt like a terrible mistake.

“I need to...,” I whispered, pulling my hand from his. “I’ll be right back.”

I practically ran to the bathroom, locking myself in the big stall as my shaking hands pulled out my phone. Gloria answered on the second ring.

“Tempest, thank god,” she said, her normally composed voice tight with tension. “I’ve been trying to reach you?—”

“They’re going to expose me,” I hissed, pressing my back against the cool tile wall. “That entertainment show is teasing some kind of special reveal about Miranda Milan. They’re going to tell everyone who I am.”

“It’s worse than that.” Gloria’s words hit me like a physical blow. “There’s been a leak. Someone talked. I’ve been on the phone with FlixNChill executives all morning.”

My legs gave out. I sank to the floor of the stall, not caring about germs or appearances. “What? How? Who?”

“They don’t know how it got out,” Gloria said. “But they’re in damage-control mode. They’re worried you’re going to kill the entire deal and that’s the last thing they want.”

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