Wait, what?
“Contract? What do you mean?”
“Blythe gave us the first interview with you since arriving in New York. Her only stipulation was that I can’t get involved with you in any way. So, even if I wanted to go on that date, I can’t. My job means everything to me.”
“Blythe is the reason you’re not willing to give this a chance?” I ask, shock clear in my tone. I cannot believe my agent would stoop so low. What the hell is she playing at?
“No, that’s not what I said. I mean … I don’t know.”
“You’re not willing to go on a date with me because you’ll lose your job. I get that.” Nodding, I round Violet and head for the boardroom. I know Blythe is here because she texted me this morning and told me she’d be sitting in the meeting.
Violet’s racing up behind me, but I don’t listen to her whisper-hissing at me to stop. Instead, I shove open the boardroom door and find my agent sitting in one of the leather chairs.
“We need to talk,” I assert, my voice giving away how angry I am.
“Oh?” She arches a dark, perfectly sculpted brow at me.
“Now, Blythe,” I bite out before turning to Violet and looking into her pretty eyes. “Can you give us a moment?”
Her mouth falls open. She’s about to protest, but I glower at her, trying to tell her with my eyes that I need her to trust me. She nods, turns, and shuts the door behind her.
I turn on my agent before I have time to calm the fuck down. “What the hell is your problem?” Leaning my palms on the smooth, mahogany surface, I glare at her as rage fuels me.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she replies coolly. That’s her, the ice princess of the modeling world. She doesn’t take shit from anyone, and I respect that, but when she starts meddling in my personal life, that’s another matter altogether.
“The clause in the contract,” I advise. “I’m not allowed to date anyone from the magazine?”
A small smile dances on her lips, and she sighs slowly as if I’m a child, and she needs to take me aside and explain something very simple to me. I’m not amused at her, and it shows in my demeanor.
“Bloody hell, Blythe,” I fume. “Tell me what the hell is going on?”
“I marketed you to Brazen as a bachelor. You are labeled the Brazen Bachelor for a reason. I don’t need my boss shitting all over me when you get all swoony for some girl.”
“That’s not your call to make,” I counter. Frustration bursts in my chest, and my heart is thudding wildly against my ribs. She’s acting like she owns me, but she doesn’t. I can walk out of here now and find a new agent. It’s not like there’s a shortage of them.
“It is if I’m getting paid for it,” she insists calmly. I watch her pick up the espresso cup, take a sip, then set it back down.
“I don’t give a shit what you think you’re getting paid for. Your job is to work with me professionally, to look out for the business side of my life, not, and I repeat, not the personal.”
She doesn’t look at me for a long while. Pushing up from the chair, she turns to the window and gazes out at the city below us. The busy streets of Manhattan are filled with tourists and workers alike, rushing from one place to another, but up here, we’re free of that noise.
“I don’t mean to be a pain in the arse,” I add and note how she grins at the way I say the word. “But this is my personal life, and if I choose to see someone outside of the studio, then it’s my choice.”
A long silence greets me, and she sighs, shaking her head. “If they feel you’re not living up to the brand,” she articulates finally, turning to face me. “Your arse will be out of a gig, and there’s nothing I can do to change that. Yes, I can find you another job, that won’t be a problem, you’re perfect for a multitude of clients I have, but it won’t have the limelight that this one does.”
She looks at the folder on the table, her face creased with concern, but she doesn’t need to be. I’m a big boy. I can live without the fame. As long as I can get an income, I’ll survive.
“Is she worth that?” Blythe questions, lifting her blue gaze to meet mine. That’s the million-dollar question. How can I know if I don’t try this with Violet?
“Since you’re taking away my choice to see where this is headed with her, I cannot answer that.” It’s the truth, and she knows it.
I don’t know how long we stand there, staring at each other, gazes locked in a standoff. Finally, she nods.