Should I remind him? Forget it.

His words meant nothing. My heart sinks to my stomach. Prince Charming could never forget Cinderella. But I hold no candle in Brandon Taylor’s heart. Svelte Cinderella was blond and beautiful like Katrina. I’m fat and mousy. I’ve got to stop dreaming. A fairy tale ending is not going to be mine.

Brandon

I begin my morning after the Golden Globes the same way I always do—with a swim. Except instead of my normal twenty laps, I only do ten. Booze and a quart of Häagen-Dazs don’t mix well. Hoisting myself out of the pool, I spot my manager Scott. He’s heading my way at breakneck speed. Already smoking, he looks agitated. I throw a towel over my shoulders and meet him halfway.

“Brandon, the shit’s hit the fan. Your speech last night is the talk of the Internet. It’s worse than I anticipated. Every fucking gossip columnist online is wondering why you didn’t thank Katrina. He hands me his phone. He’s googled me. While Scott puffs on his cigarette, I read one headline after another:

Perez Hilton: “Brandon Taylor Wins Big at the Golden Globes. But Will He Lose Katrina?”

TMZ: “After the Golden Globes, Is It Splitsville for Bratrina?”

Celebuzz: “Katrina Cusses Kussler at Awards Party!”

E! Online: “Thanks but No Thanks. Is That It for Brandon and His It Girl?”

I scroll down until I’ve had enough. Scott follows me as I stride to a table. He takes the chair opposite mine. I hand him back his phone.

“I fucked up.”

Scott blows out a cloud of smoke. “Big time. Katrina is fuming. She hasn’t spoken to the press, but she’s demanding a public apology.”

“Shit.”

I haven’t seen or spoken to Katrina since last night. The scene she created at the Conquest Broadcasting after-party was beyond embarrassing. The shrieking and expletives were just the tip of the iceberg. She went ballistic and yanked my award out of my hand. She seriously would have either struck me with it or hurled it across the room had not security reined her in. Mobbed by reporters, I was lucky Blake Burns used his clout and got me out the back door and arranged for one of his company limos to take me back home. But nonetheless, the damage was done. And I’m sure today I’m going to pay the price. I have people who deal with these kinds of things, but Katrina’s a loose cannon.

Contemplating what I’m going to say to the press and how I’m going to handle Katrina, I catch sight of Zoey coming toward us. She’s carrying a folder and a Starbucks bag. At the sight of her, my mood brightens. And my cock flexes. She always has that effect on me. I’m glad she was around when I came home last night even if she seemed a little down. Eating ice cream with her more than cheered me up. It aroused me. There was something about the way she wrapped her lips around my spoon that made them so kissable. I, of course, refrained, but it wasn’t easy with my raging boner. If she only knew.

Meeting my gaze, my assistant shows no emotion. If anything, an expression that borders on coldness is etched on her face. Once at our table, she silently sets down the bag. With not as much as a good morning, she hands me my regular iced Caffè Americano. Scott eyes it.

“Whatcha got for me, sweetheart?” he asks my assistant before I can thank her.

“Nothing. Not even a smile. And by the way, my name is Zoey.”

Do I detect some animosity? I wonder if she’s still pissed at him for sending her away while I was in the hospital.

Her voice stays icy cold. “Brandon, here’s your schedule.” She places the folder in front of me. I flip it open and peruse the printout. It’s a fairly light day. I just need to go to the recording studio at noon to do some pickup lines.

Avoiding eye contact, she continues. “I’m outta here. I’ve got a lot of things to take care of.”

As she pivots, Scott grabs her by the elbow. She tries to shake herself free. “Let go of me, Scott.”

“Sweetheart, you’ve got your work cut out for you today. I need you to draft an apology statement for Brandon. You know, something along the lines of him being so excited last night, he totally forgot to mention Katrina in his acceptance speech.”

Zoey’s face grows seething mad. “Since when do I take orders from you?”

Scott sneers at her. “And don’t forget to mention how much he loves her and is looking forward to their wedding.”

With dark, questioning eyes, Zoey looks at me for a go-ahead. I nod.

“Zoey, that would be very helpful.”

“Fine. Now, let go of me, Scott.”

“Scott, let her go.” My voice is firm and authoritative.

Ignoring my order, my manager leers at her “That’s not all. You need to respond to all the tweets and Facebook posts that are questioning the future of Bratrina. And I want you to work with their publicists and try to get the two of them booked on one of those talk shows. Jimmy Kimmel or Letterman would be perfect.”

“Okay, now let me get to work.” She tries again to jerk her arm free of my salacious manager.

“Scott, did you hear me? Let go of her. Now!”

A smirk crosses Scott’s lips. Rage crescendos inside me. My hands ball into fists. I’m so close to punching him I can feel the pain of the impact on my knuckles. Just in time, he releases her and blows a cloud of smoke in her face.

Zoey’s eye narrow and her bowed lips press thin. “You know, you shouldn’t be smoking. It’s actually not allowed in the Hollywood Hills. It causes fires.”

“Aren’t we a Miss Know-It-All?” Scott deliberately blows another puff of smoke at her.

This time she waves it away and glowers at him. “Maybe you’d feel differently if your father died putting out a wildfire.”

My brows lift. That’s news to me. I swear the other day after she witnessed Katrina sucking me off, she told me she was going to see her father. Maybe in my mortified state, I heard her wrong. Or my fucked-up mind was playing tricks on me.

“Brandon, text me if you need anything.” She stalks off before I can say another word.

Scott takes yet another drag of the cigarette. The repulsive smell of the smoke and tobacco is getting to me. I’m done with being Mr. Nice Guy. I’m going to tell him to put the damn thing out. Before I have a chance, he blows out another puff, flicks the ashes on the deck, and throws me another curve ball.

“You know, today’s Katrina’s birthday.”

“It is?” Shit! I had no clue. My mind’s so screwed up I’m lucky I remember my name or what day of the week it is.

“I’m taking her out for lunch at The Ivy. You should join us. It might help smooth things over and being seen in public with her might help quell rumors of your breakup.”

“Can’t. I have some pickup lines to take care of.”

“Too bad. Hope you’re getting her something expensive and taking her out for a nice, romantic dinner. That would definitely help calm her down. The Polo Lounge would be a great place for the two of you to be seen.”

“Done.” Crap. I haven’t bought a thing for her or made a reservation. Mental note: Email Zoey and tell her to go to Tiffany’s and pick up a bauble. Plus, make a dinner reservation at the Polo Lounge.

Scott flashes his pearly white teeth. They glow against his fake tan. They’re perfect. In fact, too perfect. They’ve got to be caps.

“Good. You know, Katrina’s mentioned you’re still having a little problem in the equipment department.”

I cringe. She’s been sharing our sex life—or lack of one—with Scott? Okay, he might manage both of us, but it’s none of his fucking business. Fucking Katrina.

Scott takes another puff and winks at me. “Brand-man, you should treat yourself to a little bauble too. A ring.”

I glance at Scott’s flashy pinky ring. So not my style. “I don’t do a lot of jewelry.”