Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
“I know. I have a meeting at three-thirty. I’ll make sure you’re out of here on time,” he says. “Maybe even early.”
Too bad.
Maddox heads the other direction down Abbot Kinney Boulevard, past fit moms pushing expensive strollers and tanned dudes carting surfboards and smoothies. When we near a men’s clothing shop, Maddox points at my shirt. “By the way, nice daiquiris.”
Finally. Fucking finally, he’s noticed the shirt I wore. For him. I stop outside the store and tug carelessly at the shirt covered in cartoon cocktails. “Oh, is that what these are? I hadn’t realized.”
That earns me a small smile. “Yeah, right.”
But two can play the remember-when game. I gesture to his tie, a rich shade of sapphire. “Nice tie. Is that Bespoke?”
Maddox grins deliciously. “You know the clothing brand Bespoke?”
Oh, hottie. You have no idea. “I’m good with ties. All kinds of ties,” I say, breaking my promise and not caring for a fucking second.
Especially when desire flares in his deep brown eyes. This man. Maddox wants what I have to give, no doubt. I reach for the silk, running my fingers down the material. My fingertips graze his chest, just barely, but enough to make him haul in a breath. I reach the end of the tie, let it slide across my palm, then drop it against his stomach. “And you look so fucking good in them,” I say.
His lips part. His breath comes fast. “Well, good thing they’re what I like to wear,” he murmurs, his voice a fucking invitation, his words more so, and my temperature shoots impossibly higher.
But Maddox douses the flames when he says, “Zane, can I be straight with you?”
My lips quirk up. Can’t help myself. “I mean, I don’t know. Can you be straight?”
He laughs, dragging a hand down his face. But when he drops it, he clears his expression. “Here’s some real talk,” he says, all business, no bullshit on the streets of Venice. “The video game deal didn’t fall apart because of the company’s earnings.”
What is he talking about? “But that’s what they said,” I point out.
“Yes, that’s what they said. But then they went and hired Chris Garnett,” he says gently, mentioning the New York Gothams infielder. “He loves Rocket League and a ton of other video games. You don’t.”
Well, that’s a direct hit, but I try to take it on the chin. “Okay, got it.”
“The Energize Drinks deal didn’t come together either.”
I cross my arms. “I’m aware. You told me over dinner. Remember?”
“I do. And this isn’t bad, Zane.”
But it sure as shit sounds that way, with how he’s naming all the companies that didn’t want me to endorse their products. “Doesn’t entirely sound good, Maddox.”
He sets his hand on my arm. A reassuring gesture, but it both irritates me and excites me. “Those companies weren’t a good fit for you, and you weren’t a good fit for them. I’m being blunt with you because that’s my job. I’m not going to stand here and tell you that you’re right for every single brand. You’re not. No one is. And guess what? You’d be wrong for a coffee drink when you don’t drink coffee.”
“Feel free to pile on some more,” I mutter.
He squeezes my arm harder. “Listen to me.”
I huff. “Fine. I’m listening.”
“You’d probably love to endorse Ferraris or McLarens. I saw the way you stared at those cars with lust in your eyes.”
Now we’re getting somewhere. “You gonna get me a deal for one of those babies? Hell yes.”
He smiles kindly but shakes his head. “No.”
I groan, then drag a hand through my hair. “You’re killing me.”
Another squeeze of my biceps, and I look at him again, waiting for him to put me out of my misery.
“You’re too new for a big brand like that,” he says. “When you break out with three seasons in a row of one hundred-RBI stats and become the face of the franchise, that’s when you can land a luxury sports car deal. I’d be a terrible agent if I said I would even try for one now. But what I am going to do is find you a partnership that makes sense. That fits you. Brands and fans can ferret out a lie like that.” He snaps his fingers. “That’s why I’m glad Energize Drinks fell apart. I’m glad the video game company picked someone else. Someone, a fan probably, would have figured out you don’t even play video games, or you don’t drink energy drinks. Hell, I knew you don’t drink energy drinks.”
He has a damn good point there. “True, true.”
“My job is to find you a deal that’ll make you and the brand so very happy. A healthy quick-serve restaurant, a streaming music service, a podcast network, a water-bottle company. Make your own lucky bottle, or some such. Maybe a scotch distiller. Or,” he says, his eyes traveling up and down my body, “better yet, a men’s fashion company.”