Page 81 of Enemies Off Camera
He lifts his chin. “Did you wear that for me?”
“It kills me to say this,” I reply sweetly, “but I did.”
His eyes light up like a fool who thinks he’s still got it. “That makes me hopeful, because…” He leans in, rubbing his palms together like some dime-store villain. “I did it all for you,” he whispers. “I couldn’t watch you go down. I love you too much.”
Zara, do not burst out laughing. Hold. It. In.
My eyes widen with faux emotion. I thought pretending to be Jaxon’s girlfriend was the role of a lifetime—but no, it’sthis. Right here.
I reach across the table and take Blaine’s hand. I know exactly how much he hates being the one passively held. His masculinity is made of wet tissue paper—can’t get too damp or it falls apart.
Right on cue, he adjusts our grip, making sure he’s doing the holding. Perfect. Vera, I hope you got that shot.
“Well,” I say lightly, “it’s a great gig. I love the script. Couldn’t put it down.”
Blaine leans back, basking in the credit. “That’s what I do. I look out for people who… look out for me.”
Finally. There it is.
I chuckle like he just told the best joke of the year.
Another one for the camera, Vera.
“Come here,” I say, curling my finger to beckon him closer. I let our faces hover inches apart—cheeks nearly touching, breath mingling, the press-ready illusion of a kiss.
“I want to show you something,” I whisper. “I call it…” I pause, lick my bottom lip—watch him practically pant. “An attitude adjuster.”
Snap, Vera. Get the damn money shot.
We both pull back at the same time. The moment’s over. Now we get to the real show.
I slide a small stack of folded pages from my purse and lay them out on the table like a poker player going all in.
“See this?” I tap one of the pages. “These are my lab results. See the part that says I needed meds? Now look who my only sexual partner was at the time.”
He scoffs, eyes narrowing.
The waitress appears, bouncing over like she’s ready for a casting call. Pretty, flirty—probably an aspiring actress. Usually, Blaine would flirt back, slip her his number on the receipt, then come back later and sleep with her. But tonight? He doesn’t even look at her.
“We need a moment,” I say.
She gives him one last desperate smile before retreating.
“You’re disgusting for this,” he finally mutters.
“I agree. I mean, what would your fans think?” I ask, all innocence. “Their heartthrob gave his girlfriend the clap? No wonder she shoplifts—look at the man she loved.”
Blaine shakes his head, growling, “What do you want?”
“Peace,” I say. “That’s it. We work in peace.” I lean forward and press my finger down on the paper between us. “And I don’t owe you a thing. If anything… you owed me.
FIFTY-EIGHT
JAXON WILDE
Game Day
Up early. Power breakfast. Team meeting to finalize the game plan. Now it’s time to hit the field for warm-ups.
