Page 41 of The Casting Couch

I gasped for air, biting my knuckles, legs twitching like I was possessed.

“Why does it feel like I’m being punished for something I did in a past life?”I groaned.

“It’s just the glycolic acid, sugar.It’s lifting pigment and dissolving dead skin cells.Totally safe.Usually.”

“Usually?!”

She hummed a little tune, something upbeat and deeply inappropriate for the moment, while applying another layer.

“It’s important to exfoliate first,” she said conversationally, like we were chatting about brunch plans.“Otherwise the results won’t be even.And we can’t have a patchy hole, now can we?”

I wanted the Earth to open up and swallow me whole.

At some point, I lost track of time.The burning gave way to a weird, icy numbness.Like, my entire lower half had disassociated from the experience out of sheer survival instinct.

Lola finally peeled off her gloves and stepped back, looking at her handiwork with the pride of a woman who had just remodeled a kitchen on a reality show.

“Perfect,” she declared.“You’re gonna look fabulous.Very… cinematic.”

I stayed facedown, breathing into the table cushion, contemplating all the ways my life had gone off the rails.

Lola patted my shoulder.“Stay like that for a few minutes.Let everything settle down.I’m gonna get you some soothing cream.”

As the door swung shut behind her, I squeezed my eyes closed and let out a long, suffering sigh.

Riley Vega’s face flashed through my mind again.

She didn’t mess around.

And I guess…

This was still better than getting my kneecaps broken in an alley.

Barely.

I was still lying face-down, cheeks clenched tighter than a jar of pickles, when I heard the door swing open again.

“Alright, sugar, let’s get you moisturized before you burst into flames,” Lola announced, breezing back in.

But… she wasn’t alone.

I cracked one eye open just in time to see not just Lola… but Nessa and Moira trailing in behind her like the goddamn Greek chorus of my personal nightmare.

I nearly rolled off the table.

“What the—?!”I yelped, grabbing for the paper gown like it was a life raft.

“Oh, calm down,” Nessa said, waving me off with her long red nails.“It’s not like you got anything we haven’t seen before.”

“Speak for yourself,” Moira added, leaning against the doorframe, eyeing me like I was both a threat and a snack.“But… damn, okay… I see you, Mitchell.”

My face went nuclear.

“WHY are you in here?!”I spluttered, trying to hide behind what was basically a glorified napkin.

Nessa crossed her arms, a slow, evil smile spreading across her face like she’d waited all day for this moment.

“Just wanted to check on your progress,” she said sweetly, like I was a science fair project.“Liam and Jack said you’d need some… grooming.”

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