Page 18 of Her Beastly Billionaire Rock Star
Octavia was riding her about how things were going, adding to the pressure Charlotte already felt. How could she pull off being his girlfriend if they didn’t act it? The press would eat them alive if they had even a hint that the relationship wasn’t real. Which was one of the reasons she found herself outside his door.
She thought maybe if she could get him out of the house without the paparazzi following him, he might trust her a little more. Maybe he wouldn’t think of her as a pest or a jailer. She’d even waited until the evening to try, hoping that anyone camping outside his house wouldn’t see them leave.
Just as she went to knock, her phone buzzed in her jeans pocket. “Hello, Octavia,” she said as she put the phone to her ear, turning her back to Malakai’s door.
“Charlotte.”
“What do you want?” She didn’t even try to keep the icy tone out of her voice.
“I’ll ignore your tone for now, but let’s make sure it doesn’t happen again. I’m calling because you failed to text me updates as we’d agreed.”
Rolling her eyes, Charlotte silently hoped her stepsister would break a nail. It was petty, but as far as wishing doom on someone, Charlotte considered it mundane. “We played pool with Chris that night a few weeks ago. Nothing has changed. What little we’ve talked, it’s been superficial. He’s here, in this house, and stuck.”
“I see.” Octavia paused a moment. “Well, why don’t you talk him into sneaking out and do something. We’ll call it flirting with the press. They’ll see you two bonding, and it’ll only help later.”
Basically, what Charlotte had already decided to do minus paparazzi creeps following them. It was odd that Octavia had the same idea at almost the exact same time as Charlotte, but not so farfetched. Her stepsister was an image fixer, and despite their disagreement on how it was done, she was good at it.
“I could just ask him.” Why did Octavia want her to talk him into it? “Wouldn’t that be easier?”
“Maybe, but this way he’ll think it was your idea and be more inclined to play along. I want the press to think he’s breaking the rules with you. If he doesn’t know, his reaction will be more authentic.”
“So, you want me to get him to sneak out without actually telling him that’s what I’m doing?” Charlotte sighed. She’d never been involved with a client so closely before, and she didn’t like the idea of manipulating Malakai. “Won’t it seem staged if wetryto get the press’s attention as we leave?”
“Not if you do it right. You just text me when he’s pulling out of the garage, and I’ll let my contacts know.”
“But—"
By the sound of it, Octavia switched ears before speaking again. “But what?”
“I just think—”
“You don’t do the thinking. You do what I tell you to do, when and how I tell you to do it. Otherwise, that precious daddy of yours will hit the sidewalk so fast it’ll rattle his already addled brain.” Her stepsister paused. “Now, what are you going to do?”
Biting back tears, Charlotte swallowed all the things she wanted to say and replied, “All right. I’ll convince him to sneak out so the press can chase us, and I’ll text you when we’re leaving.”
“Good. Try to get him to take one of the convertibles so they can get good shots of the two of you.”
Sports car? That was better than the motorcycle he owned. The one she’d seen him speeding down Rodeo on one of the gossip sites. Rumor was, he’d wrecked it too, but there was no confirmation. She could only hope it was true.
Malakai wasn’t far off the mark when he’d called her…neat. She didn’t want the wind in her face or the thrill of anything. Her hair pulled up and a quiet spot to read was about as adventurous as she liked to be.
“Does it have to be a convertible? I don’t like them.”
“All the better to take one.” Malice laced the words. “Don’t forget to text.” With that, the conversation ended.
Charlotte slipped her phone back into her pocket and took a deep breath. She didn’t want to talk him into doing anything, and she most certainly didn’t want the press following them. She also didn’t want to put her dad in jeopardy. Maybe she could text Octavia that they were going one way and then do the opposite. Charlotte could just use the excuse that he’d changed his mind at the last second. It wasn’t like she’d be driving. Maybe this way, they could both be safe.
Mustering a little courage, she turned back to the door and lightly tapped it with her knuckles. “Malakai.” Like he’d heard her nearly whispering. She knocked again and called his name a little louder. After the fourth try, she started to walk away, thinking he was either not in there like she thought he was or he was ignoring her.
Suddenly the door swooshed open, and Malakai was staring at her. “Yes?” His tone was off. The response wasn’t growled, but there was an edge to it for sure.
“Octavia wants me to get you out of the house.” Casting her gaze to the floor, she said, “She wants us to get the press to follow, but—”
“I think it’s a great idea.”
Charlotte lifted her gaze to his and nearly gulped. The glint in his eyes and the way he smiled felt off. “Malakai—”
He stepped out of his room, shutting the door behind him, and loomed over her. “I’m paying you to fix my image, and if this is the way to do it, then let’s go.”
