Royal Hearts (Love At The Lake #2)

Chapter 6

Six

WINTER

H er eyes squint as her boss pulls her into the conference room. She’s clad head to toe in black with red lips—chin up.

I stand, and her gaze snaps to me.

“You,” she breathes quietly, letting the words fall mostly on my ears as I round the conference room table toward her.

“Bloom,” I respond. I’ve come so close our breath almost mingles and I take a step back while simultaneously reaching to shake her hand.

Prince Charming, at your service.

But she refuses to take my hand, and I pin her with a slight glare, letting my facade slip a touch.

Oh. So it’s going to be like that, then.

I haven’t spoken to her since stealing her sister’s cell a few months back when they were video chatting and our group was having dinner at the Tipsy Taco, a charming place in town despite heavy-handed dancing condiment decor. She was applying makeup and wearing black silk then. My mind flips back to that image unbidden. The robe split open, exposing a sliver of creamy skin.

Is her hand as cold as the ice she’s throwing my way now?

Chatter and pleasantries surround us with the chaos of people standing up for royalty even though this isn’t my hometown where formalities are still in regular practice for a decorative, at best, monarchy. These TV people have been educated by the team my parents employ, including Anker, lovingly nicknamed The Crown.

They also know their entire project depends on Cat signing on as my assistant, for real this time. Funny how life works, isn’t it? She’s going to get exactly what she asked for, and she’s not going to like it. My parents know I won’t do the show without her, Streamflix knows I won’t do the show without her, and her boss Allyn knows my name on their client roster will change the trajectory of their company the second it’s announced.

And judging by the look in her eyes, Cat is beginning to realize all of this, too.

“This is a mistake,” she says, low and firm so only I can hear. She can’t meet my eyes as I relentlessly stare at her. I’m making her more uncomfortable by the minute.

Good. Exactly what I’m aiming for.

“Quite the opposite,” I reply, tailoring my response to counter her hard-won collectedness as I take a seat across from her. My ease is making her more dodgy, she seems very much like a trapped animal, which gives me pause despite my intentions. “This is exactly what you wanted, to be my assistant. You’ve already made use of the title.”

Everyone sits, but Cat stays standing as if she’s an unbroken stallion about to bolt.

So, I test the waters and give her a command she’s not going to like. “Have a seat, Cathy,” I toss across the table, the rest of the room engrossed in another round of pleasantries .

She doesn’t budge, and those eyes heat as they narrow into slits.

It’s an effort to conceal my grin.

“Cat,” Allyn whisper-shouts, patting the chair next to her while she smiles around the room.

Cat sits, reluctantly. It kills her, and I watch every delicate move as she crosses her legs under the table, still refusing to meet my eyes.

The room continues to titter, Streamflix reps gesturing and making introductions between Cat and me. A producer, a director, and a showrunner bend over backward to make us acquainted, but I know her. And she knows me.

My parents feign interest, they’re ready to board their jet now that they’ve gotten me in the room, and most likely will do exactly that the second Cat signs on to the show.

Cat tucks her hair behind her ears and attempts composure. I can tell it’s an effort, clad in a turtleneck so tight it’s second skin. She still wants to run. Her eyes keep flitting to the door. It’s like that day on the baseball field, she instantly hated me, and still hates me now.

I marvel at how deeply brown her eyes are. How epically pink her cheeks are turning as I refuse to give her a moment’s break from my assessment.

Prior to her posing as my PA, I met her months ago in a discotheque, of all places, and we watched her sister and my best friend hit it off on the dance floor. At first, I thought we might hit it off as well. She is beautiful, with strong cheekbones, a determined brow, and heart-shaped lips that snagged my attention. But after quickly coming to know her, that beauty has soured if not in my eyes, then absolutely in my opinion. She makes a career out of embodying everything I hate.

It's annoying that I still find her exquisite to look at.

“Now that we’ve all been introduced,” her boss, Allyn says in a striking suit. “Moving right along to logistics.” She motions to the producer whose name I don’t remember.

I push back from the table and lean in my chair, resting an ankle on my knee. A strategic smile around the table and a dashing hand through my hair puts them at ease and me in their good graces.

Everyone grins back at the good guy, and my confidence falters for only a second. All eyes on me is not comfortable, but I’ve had years of grooming to deal with it.

My mother smoothes flyaways from her elegant French twist. “Where do we begin?”

Allyn gestures to a perky-looking young man at the head of the table. “Marco, can you bring us up to speed? Due to your strict instruction to keep information iron-clad, Cat hasn’t heard the pitch. And I’m not sure how much Mr. Larsen has been made privy?—”

I wave my hand nonchalantly. “I know I’m being married off to better my reputation and that’s about all I need to know.”

Marco stands, looking like a determined squirrel in royal headlights. “As the head producer for Royal Hearts ?—”

“ Royal Hearts ? You’ve got to be kidding me,” Cat bursts out as if she’s finally processed what we’ve been saying. She seems to be in shock, ‘poor dear’ as Annie would say, and I feel like the Grinch as my smile twists in her direction.

The room stills again, silent as a dewy morning in a barn before I head out for a ride. All eyes shift to her as she continues. “That title screams romance, chivalry, love and passion.” She meets my eyes for the first time since she sat at this table. “That’s going to be a stretch, for you.”

“Did you think they’d want to feature me baking cakes, Bloom?” I chuckle. She ignores me.

“Thoughts?” Allyn asks, ignoring Cat’s remarks and probably hoping the rest of the room does the same. Her face is neutral, but there are nerves in her tone, trying to help her protege recover .

What she really said was, pull it together Bloomfield, and say something magnanimous in front of the people who will be paying us a large amount of money for this deal.

Cat hesitates. “The royal aspect is a unique twist. Dating shows are bingeable but the general boy-picks-from-a-football-teams-worth-of-women has run its course. Playing up the Crown, the heritage, and the general wealth of the Prince is a good angle. What’s the timeframe? The stakes?”

Well played, Bloom.

While I do respect the recovery and no-nonsense attitude, I stick to my mission. “It’s nice to have your opinion,” I say, purely for the people in the room, “but we don’t need your take on the premise of my show.”

I look to Marco and wait for the producer’s confirmation. As much as it pains me to shut down savvy feedback, I’m not twisting my heritage, my family, my secrets, and my pride into a pretzel she can sell for profit. She is not running this show and I’ll be the one to say how much of the prince they’re going to get.

“Well, she has recently signed on as a partner at Brand Hub,” Allyn says. “Taking this deal, as you’ve laid out some very specific terms, is up to Cat. She’ll have to put the rest of her clients on hold to meet your demands. We still stand to walk away if it’s not a good fit.”

“That’s not what we discussed—” I turn in my chair to debate. Per Allyn’s email, I have an agreement that Cat will sign on as my brand manager today. And because I’ve requested it, she’ll also act as PA while on set.

“What you discussed? Why wasn’t I part of a discussion about my involvement?” Cat asks.

“That’s a moot point,” I say, glancing at my PA-to-be. “The deal is done, per my requirements.”

Her head swivels from me, to Marco, to Allyn, she wasn’t expecting my involvement in this process, I guess. “Your requirements? ”

“Yes.”

“What else is on your laundry list, sire?” she asks flippantly. Definitely a spoiled first child, entitled and full of pride even when she hasn’t the slightest clue what she’s getting into.

I must say, I admire her guts and guile in speaking to me this way in front of my parents, though.

It’s impossible not to chuckle. “You’re not here to have an opinion. You’re here to forecast my needs and execute any necessities I require while going through this godforsaken process of exhibition.” My lips twist with delight. I’m going to run her ragged with demands.

“Now, wait a minute,” Cat taps a finger on the table to get my attention. Little does she know, she’s already got it. All of it. And she’s going to regret it. “I haven’t signed the deal.”

Allyn tenses beside her but she reclines in her chair, toying with a pen, the epitome of playing it cool. Cat’s eyes slide in her direction, they make eye contact and seem to have an entire conversation. These women respect each other. And because they seem to care about their company deeply, I know I’ve got Cat Bloomfield on the hook.

“If you think I’m going to grovel and memorize your coffee order, you need to wipe that delusion clean from your brain now,” she says, calling me directly on my unspoken plans.

Allyn smiles, and I’m pretty sure my mom lets a chuckle slip from her prim lips.

“That’s a yes.” I click the pen in my hand, ready to sign on the line even though I don’t have any papers in front of me yet.

“Ahem,” Allyn clears her throat. “She gets a real Christmas, at least a few days while you break from filming, or we’re out.”

Nice balls, Allyn.

I can concede to that, this whole charade balances on Cat being involved. Otherwise, what am I doing here other than buying time until I have to sign my life away and give up everything I love? At least enacting payback with Cat makes it interesting.

“Fine,” I relent.

“Sign the contract, both of you.” Allyn pushes a stack of papers toward Cat with a do not mess this up for me look. Then she pushes a matching stack my way. I respect her directness, even with me.

“We’ll be going.” My dad stands, taking my mom by the arm.

“Clean up your reputation,” she says to me, “And for heaven’s sake, pick someone suitable. Anker says this is our last resort with you, it has to work.

“And might I add,” Allyn says, focusing on Marco and my parents, “we’re thrilled to have been chosen for this project.”

Cat’s narrow eyes which are quite the embodiment of her namesake slide to me as she clicks her pen. “I’ll figure out what game you’re playing and when I do, you’re going to regret it,” she whispers.

“I can’t wait to see you try,” I whisper back. “And I can’t wait to watch you quit. Or perhaps I’ll fire you first?”

She drops her pen. “I’m doing this for my company. There’s nothing you can do to make me quit, and if I’m the perfect assistant, you can’t fire me. Which I will be. You’re just another client.”

I bite down a little too hard. “I know how much you wish that were true.”

The papers lay in waiting on the table as the meeting progresses, both of us picking up our pens, putting them down, click, unclick. I’m not even sure what game we’re playing, it feels ironically a lot like foreplay.

Who will make the first move?

Marco explains the show will air in real time with little to no editing which means everyone needs to be camera aware and no one is safe from public humiliation. A lot of red tape regarding security, production value, and expectations get tossed around the room.

“Phones in the basket please.” Marco pushes a basket down the table. The social media ban is comical for me since the few pages I do have only contain photos of all my animals.

I drop my cell phone in the basket without ceremony.

Cat’s face turns white as she turns to Allyn. “No.”

I bite back a grin, pick up my pen, and sign my name on the contract with a few quick slashes.

“You’re all being filmed and you’ll be mic’d,” Marco says, “We can’t afford a slip-up online. Fans will be watching in real time. It’s a sacrifice everyone agreed to make for the integrity of the show.”

“I have to be connected. I have clients to look after.”

She has her followers to appease with pretty pictures of her face smiling up at the sun under the arched gate of Little Star Lodge. She posted the second she arrived on the property. I’ve got her alerts set on my phone.

Marco holds up a hand, stopping her mid-protest. “You can check your phones before filming each day. This is a move of good faith for us to know you’ll adhere to your contracts and stay offline for the duration of the shoot. You can check in with family, pay bills, and stay in contact with the necessities of your lives. But that’s it.”

I think for sure we’ve lost her and I’ll have to come up with another way to diabolically enact payback. But then, with a flourish of black ink, she signs the contract, tosses her phone into the basket, and walks out of the room.

Everyone stands, the Streamflix reps looking thrilled this circus is finally over and they’ve officially signed their leading man, despite his odd demands.

Cat Bloomfield might be even more formidable than I thought, she’s going to keep me on my toes, I can admit that. Too bad she’ll end up on her knees, begging to be rid of me.