Chapter 5

Viola

I never went back to my hotel room. I hopped in a cab and headed home instead.

The last thing I wanted was to stay in the same building with Bryce. I didn't want to run into him at all.

This arrogant jerk! Liar! Cheater!

I lived in a villa with my older brother Lucas. He was the perfect housemate. He was a surgeon and his schedule was brutal, so he was always away for work trips. Most days, the house was all mine.

He was out of town tonight too, but I wished he wasn't. I would've given anything for him to ramble about nothing, just to pull my mind away from Bryce. But every thought kept circling back to Bryce, stuck on the image of him in nothing but a towel.

It wouldn't leave my head. My skin burned hot just thinking about him.

A cold shower did absolutely nothing to quiet the restless twist low in my stomach.

I stood under the running water, my fingers brushing over my skin, and I couldn't stop imagining what it would feel like if those big broad hands of his were on me instead.

I leaned back against the wet tile. The cold water hit my chest, but I was burning from the inside out. I closed my eyes and let my head drop back.

Don't do this, I told myself. Don't think about him.

But my hand moved down anyway.

It was like my body had a mind of its own. My fingers slipped lower, sliding slickly over my own wet skin. My moan echoed in this room, sounding weak and needy. I hated it. I hated that just the memory of him standing there, dripping wet, looking at me with those blue eyes, was enough to make me fall apart.

I moved my fingers faster. I imagined his rough thumbs pressing into my hips, holding me in place. I imagined the heavy heat of his breath against my neck. I bit my bottom lip to keep from making another sound, but a soft, broken moan slipped out anyway.

My thighs trembled as the pressure built. It felt good, so damn good, but it also felt like a defeat.

The climax hit me hard and fast. My breath caught in my throat as my toes curled against the slippery floor. For five seconds, my mind went completely blank.

Then, reality crashed back in.

Just as the knock from Anne dragged me out of the embrace of Bryce. I couldn't help thinking about what if Anne didn't come?

Would he kiss me?

Would he let his fingers slip along my body and settle on my p*ssy.

I opened my eyes. I was alone. The water was freezing cold now. There were no broad hands, no blue eyes, no Bryce. Just me, shivering and pathetic in my own shower, still hungry for a man I had sworn to hate.

And now there's this woman named Anne with him. In my head, every single thing Bryce did to me, he'd do all of it to Anne, or Vivian, even harder, even wilder.

No. No, I can't keep thinking about this.

The heavy, throbbing high and the sharp, hot jealousy were too much for me to take.

I didn't dry my body. I was still soaking wet when I ran over to the bed.

Stay out of my life.

Bryce. Bryce. Bryce.

The name echoed inside my skull, thrumming through every nerve.

I climbed into bed, but I couldn't lie to myself. He still got under my skin. He still had this pull over me I couldn't shake. So I got up from bed and went to the kitchen for wine.

"I am never, ever going near him again," I declared to my empty kitchen, taking another aggressive sip of wine. "If he is in the eastern part of the world, I will go to the west. If he is on land, I will live on a boat."

I finished the glass, washed my face with freezing cold water, and scrubbed my skin hard until it flushed pink, desperate to scrub away the phantom weight of his touch. I crawled into bed and pulled the duvet up to my chin.

I forced myself to wipe Bryce entirely out of my head.

Naturally, I stared at the ceiling until four in the morning.

The next day, dark circles heavy under my eyes, I chugged three iced lattes just to drag myself into work.

As soon as I got to the office, Greg burst in. He was the Executive Producer for Sports Network Tonight.

"Viola. We've got something. A really, really good thing. Come to my office."

Greg looked pumped.

I could barely hold my eyes open, but I tried to match his energy.

"Morning, Greg. What is it?"

Greg led me into his office and stared at my undereye bags for a few seconds.

"Viola, you look wiped out today. You're usually so bright and ready to go."

"It's nothing. Had some wine last night, didn't sleep great." I told a small lie.

"Ha, well, wait till you hear this news. You probably won't sleep tonight either." Greg said with a secret little grin.

"Okay, spill. What is it?" Now I was even more curious.

"Bryce's management team got back to our pitch. They're ready to talk about an exclusive, hourlong one-on-one interview. His first interview since he retired."

"Bryce? Which Bryce?"

The name hit me so hard . My brain shortcircuited for a second.

"Viola, you really didn't get any rest. Who else? Bryce Mulholland. One of a kind, the whole world knows him. I can already picture how huge our ratings will be. Bonuses are gonna be insane."

My stomach dropped hard.

I didn't care one bit about the bonus. If Greg was saying this, he wanted me to host it. But I did not want anything to do with Bryce ever again.

"Judging by your face, you're gonna love the next part. You and Mark were neck and neck for this host spot, but I'm picking you."

"Greg, no. I am not doing it." The words popped out before I could stop them.

Now it was Greg's turn to look shocked.

"Did I hear that right? Viola, what are you saying?"

"Give it to Mark. I'll cover the draft instead." I said.

Greg shook off the surprise fast. He was super smart, and he had an active imagination. I could read his face. I knew exactly what he was thinking.

Everyone knew Bryce was a player. Greg was probably putting together some story about me and Bryce.

But Greg never gossiped out loud. He didn't dig into his people's personal lives.

His face turned serious.

"Look, Viola. I don't know what went on between you two, but it doesn't matter. Even if I wanted to hand this to Mark, I can't."

I froze. "What do you mean you can't?"

"His manager said Bryce will only do the interview if you're the one asking the questions."

My breath caught.

"Me?" I whispered.

"Yeah, you." Greg said.

"So you can't turn this down. Go get ready."

Greg held out a business card. I took it. The name on it was Anne Wells. Her title: Bryce's manager.

"This is his manager. Reach out to her. She's tough. So make a good impression. Makes future collaborations with Bryce a whole lot easier."

Anne?

Was that the woman I saw outside Bryce's hotel room last night?

She was his manager, not his supermodel girlfriend?

Were they only talking about work, not something romantic?

So... At least Bryce was not a cheater.

I couldn't tell. But a tiny, stupid flicker of hope bubbled up inside me.