LOGINThe Job: Save the career of the man she hates. The Boss: Her arrogant and damaged step-brother. The Rule: One month on a bus and no crossing boundaries. °°•°°•°°•°° Anya Sharma is a professional hater because she gets paid to ruin reputations. As a top music critic, she has spent years dragging Kai Rhodes for his lack of talent and his massive ego. She does not do it for fame but for the money she needs to fund her secret charity for immigrants. It is a noble cause fueled by a very dirty job. But after a career-ending car wreck leaves Kai broken, his manager offers Anya an offer she cannot refuse. She must join the tour and play his loyal assistant while writing a story to save his image. If she succeeds, her charity gets millions. If she fails, she loses everything. Trapped on a luxury bus for thirty days, Anya expects to find a monster. Instead, she finds a man who looks too good in the dark and knows exactly how to push her buttons. They're supposed to despise each others guys, but the tension between them is a live wire ready to snap. Anya thought she was the one in control until she found things she wasn't supposed to find. She thought he was the one she was saving until she realized he was the one setting the trap. Kai knows her secrets and she is starting to love his. But the contract ends in three days and only one of them is getting out with their heart.. and life, intact. PS- Do not read this if you want a sweet and normal romance. Read this if you want to watch a professional hater get wrecked by the one man she is legally supposed to avoid.
View MoreAnya’s POVThe hotel room was small and smelled like lemon cleaner and old carpet. It wasn't the kind of place a novelist writes about in a bestseller, but it was safe. It was a no-tell motel on the edge of the state line where people didn't ask why you were covered in bruises or why you kept looking out the window every time a car drove by.Kai was asleep on the bed. He looked peaceful for the first time since I met him. The sharp lines of tension around his mouth had softened. I sat in the plastic chair by the desk and watched the cursor blink on my laptop screen.I had the drive. I had the truth. But that voice on the phone was a new kind of problem. It wasn't a corporate shark like Ethan or a fixer like Stone. It was something deeper. It felt like the industry itself had grown a mouth and started talking to me.I looked at the silver drive sitting on the desk. It looked so small. It was just a bit of metal and plastic, but it held the math that could change how people heard the w
Anya’s POVThe phone in my hand eventually felt heavier than the tape machine ever had. The voice on the other end didn't have Ethan’s desperate edge or Marcus Stone’s clinical chill. It was deep, smooth, and resonant, like a cello played in a room with perfect acoustics. It was the sound of someone who had never had to shout to be heard."The main event?" I repeated, my voice steady despite the fact that my world had just imploded for the tenth time tonight. "I’m sorry, but I think you have the wrong number. I just finished a very long shift, and I’m officially retired from the industry.""A critic never truly retires, Anya," the voice said. "They just change their perspective. Ethan was a talented manager, but he was a small man with a small vision. He thought the North Star was a product. He didn't realize it was a frequency."I looked at Kai. He was leaning against the car, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling in slow, ragged breaths. He didn't hear the voice. He didn't s
Anya's POVEthan’s face went pale. For a second he looked like a lost child. Then the mask of the CEO snapped back into place. He reached into his coat and pulled out a small black remote."Then the music stops for everyone," he said."What is that?" Kai asked."This warehouse is rigged with the same charges we used at the canyon," Ethan said. "If I can't take the lab with me then no one gets the formula. I’ll burn this place to the ground and you with it. I have a bike waiting at the back exit. I’ll be gone before the first fire truck arrives.""You’d kill yourself just to keep a secret?" I asked."I’m not dying Anya. I’m just taking a very long intermission."He moved toward the back of the lab but Kai was faster. He lunged over the glass partition and tackled Ethan. The two men hit the floor in a flurry of limbs and broken glass. The case spilled open and the amber vials scattered across the concrete."The remote!" I screamed.It had slid across the floor toward a drainage grate. I
Anya’s POVThe drive back toward the city was a blur of high beams and heavy rain. The adrenaline was wearing off and leaving behind a cold hollow ache in my bones. I held the reel to reel tape machine in my lap like it was a holy relic. It was the only thing that could truly bury Ethan Vance but seeing him crawl out of that river with the journals had changed the stakes. He didn't just want to survive anymore. He wanted to rebuild."He’s headed for the private airstrip," Kai said. He was white knuckled on the steering wheel the bandage on his head soaked through with a mix of rain and old blood. "He has a Gulfstream fueled and ready. If he clears the airspace he’s gone. He’ll disappear into a country without an extradition treaty and start the whole cycle over again with a new face and a new name.""He won't get that far," I said. My voice sounded distant even to me. "He’s wounded. He’s desperate. And he’s arrogant. He thinks we’re too broken to follow.""We are pretty broken Anya,"
Anya’s POVThe tour bus smelled like stale coffee and Ethan’s ego. We were crossing the South Carolina line, the tires humming a low, monotonous drone that made my teeth ache. I sat at the tiny galley table, staring at a spreadsheet of catering costs like it was the most fascinating thing in the wo
Anya’s POVThe drive back to the estate was a suffocating vacuum of unsaid things. Kai drove like a man who had made peace with the idea of dying, his good hand white-knuckled on the steering wheel while his injured one rested uselessly in his lap. I sat in the passenger seat, my wrists still sting
Anya’s POVI spent the next three hours hunched over the keyboard, shoulders tight, eyes burning from the blue glare of the screen.The library had grown steadily colder as the night bled into early morning, the kind of chill that seeps into your bones no matter how many layers you’re wearing. The
Anya’s POVThe estate was tomb-quiet at four in the morning. Ethan’s control was absolute, but even he had to sleep, or at least dock himself into whatever cold charging station he used to maintain his perfection. I had been pacing the library for hours, the taste of Lila’s condescension still bitt












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