Hollywood Rebel by Misti Murphy
Chapter Six
Rebel
“Holy shit, something smells good in here.” Riot strides into the kitchen, pops open the fridge door, and retrieves the protein smoothie he must have made before we went for a run this morning. Fresh from the shower and more fucking peppy than any Maddox has a right to be in the morning, he grabs a glass and pours the milkshake-like drink into it while checking out the pancake I’m flipping over on the stove. “Is that—”
“Banana pancakes. With cinnamon.” Like mom used to make when we were little. Riot doesn’t remember that though. She’d checked out as soon as Rogue and I were old enough to fend for ourselves. Riot was practically still a baby.
I push the stack of cooked flapjacks toward him.
“You haven’t made these in years.” He folds one like a burrito before biting the end off, chews for a moment before waving the rest of his pancake at me. “You know, I think I might have still been in high school.”
“They’re full of sugar,” I warn him when he reaches for a second one.
“Cheat day,” he mumbles around a mouthful.
“Fair enough.” I turn off the heat and pour a glass of orange juice while I pick up my phone from the dock on the counter. I’d set it up earlier to play Linkin Park while I cooked.
Putting the carton back in the fridge, I pull out a can of whipped cream and a bottle of chocolate syrup. When the cab dropped Summer at her apartment last night, I told her to be here at nine-thirty. It’s only twenty past.
After having her constantly in my face all week, I should be happy for the break in her stalkerish behavior. Yet I’m surprisingly impatient for her to arrive.
Riot reaches in for his third serving. “Lothario come in last night?”
“Rogue isn’t here.” I smack the back of his hand with the metal spatula.
“Jesus. Fuck.” He pulls his probably stinging appendage out of my reach. “It’s not like you haven’t cooked enough for an army.”
“They’re not for you.” I shake up the cannister of cream and decorate the top pancake with a good serving of the sweet dairy. Then use the syrup to draw a smiley face on top of that.
“Rogue isn’t even here, you said so yourself. In fact, I don’t see anyone.” He frowns as he takes in the quietness of the house. His gaze moves further to the lawn which is vacant. “Where’d she go?”
“She went home,” I answer as I lift the orange juice to my lips. I got up early and took apart the collapsed tent. I hung the tarp and fly so it could dry, along with her sleeping bag. Packed up the frame and pegs and stacked the rest of her gear in the garage. Her clothes, I tossed in with the laundry for the maid to deal with since she’s due to come today.
“Then who are the pancakes for?” Riot asks. “I thought after what happened you were avoiding company.”
“I don’t have company,” I spit the words. I spent an hour at the strip club, watching women writhe in front of me, well, trying to at any rate. But I couldn’t take my gaze off Summer. Couldn’t get interested in the idea of a lap dance, though I almost went ahead with one to piss her off for claiming so much of my damn attention.
In fact, the only time I got a little rush at the idea of a naked woman last night was when I ordered Summer to strip for me. My shirt on her covered any hint of her sexy body and all I could think about was getting through every layer between us. The way we argue… it makes me wonder what she’d do if that fight ended with her underneath me. Naked. But she got that same startled, doe-eyed look she had when I hit on her the night I came home from prison, and something about it doesn’t sit right with me.
“You like her.”
“I don’t fucking like her.” I slam the base of my glass against the counter, and it cracks. I don’t like anyone other than my brothers and Ethan and Linc, sometimes, when they’re not being assholes. Everyone else, I merely tolerate. If it’s worth it to do so.
Orange juice seeps from the broken glass and onto the counter. “Damn it.”
I snatch the cloth from the sink and wipe up the mess. Summer has proven she’s worth me giving her a chance. I pushed and pushed and pushed at her, and she didn’t quit. She didn’t back down, and that’s not something I see often. I’ve watched far more experienced people in this industry fold when I challenge them, but she didn’t.
And she didn’t give in to me either. As much as I’d like to see her surrender to me….
Watch her fall on her knees at my feet.
Have her stare up at me with those wide, green orbs full of determination while she takes my cock in her hand and wraps her Sexy Mother Pucker lips around the head and sucks like I imagined her doing the night she made out with the wall-sized photo of me upstairs.
A little moan escapes between those pillowy lips.
Her silky hair wrapped around my hand, I tug her all the way onto my aching, swollen length. Hit the back of her throat and she gags a little.
Her nails dig into my thighs, leaving marks. Fuck, it feels good.
“Yeah, you don’t like her at all.” Riot snorts.
“Fuck you,” I snap at him. I have to clear my throat of the gravel that two second daydream put in my voice.
“It’s good.” He shrugs and pours himself another glass of protein milkshake before he rinses the container and stacks it in the dishwasher. “Isn’t it? At least your dick still works. Even if everything else is still complicated.”
“Don’t be eyeballing my dick, weirdo.” I don’t want to think about the fact that one of my best friends won’t talk to me and the rest of the world thinks I’m an asshole.
The only thing on my mind right now is one pigheaded woman who wants the opportunity to fix me. I don’t know why I agreed to this. It’s not like anything she can do will make a damn bit of difference.
I check the time on my phone again. It’s nine-thirty-one. She’s officially late. Does she want me to fire her on her first day?
The doorbell chimes, and I flip from music to the feed from the security cameras at the front door. It’s as though she waited for the moment my patience ran out to show up. I take a second to study the woman who thinks she can remake me as the golden boy of Hollywood. She’s all of five-feet-three at a guess. Her head barely comes to my shoulder even in heels. The few times we’ve faced off so far, with my six-foot-four height I’ve definitely had the advantage in our stare downs.
She lays her finger on the doorbell and depresses the button. The chime echoes through the house again. I glance at the time. I could make her wait. Like she made me wait.
It was only a minute though, and the fact that it irritates me is more my problem than hers. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to race to answer the door either.
“I’m going to get out of your hair.” Riot cuffs my shoulder on his way out of the kitchen. “Going to meet Rochelle for brunch.”
“That’s good.” I squeeze the cloth in my hand so hard water drips onto the counter. “Tell her hi for me.”
“Yeah, of course.” He smiles sympathetically before he leaves. It used to be the three of us Maddox boys and Rochelle Kitt were inseparable. We used to joke that Ro was like a little sister to us. The fourth R. Now, she’s not comfortable around me, and I don’t know how to change that.
I toss the cloth I still have clenched in my hand on top of the dishes in the sink and make my way through the house.
“Morning,” she says when I open the door. She’s holding a tray with two cups of coffee from some bakery I’ve never heard of. It probably tastes like horse piss.
I crowd the frame before she can take a step to come inside. She’s wearing a dress with a slim belt that accentuates her curves. This cute geometric black and white number that screams I’m a professional, but somehow also is sultry. The high neckline dips toward her breasts like a tease. Her pointed black heels are so shiny I’m surprised I don’t see my own reflection in them. “You’re late.”
She frowns and glances at the time on the silver bangle watch on her wrist. “It’s nine-thirty-three. And I’ve been standing here for… two of those minutes you’re suggesting I’m late by.”
“Still late,” I snap.
“I had to stop at the office,” she says. “And make sure Bernadette got the contract.”
Bernadette Knight’s her boss? Somewhere in our negotiations I’d missed the part where she mentioned the fixer was her boss. It makes sense though. The tenacity. The refusal to buckle to anything less than my signature on that contract. Failure would mean her job. Too bad the gossip is that Bernadette takes failure at fixing a brand as badly as she does her employees not signing a client in their first six months. I almost feel sorry for Summer.
“I bought you coffee.” She shoves the tray at my chest, forcing me to take it from her. As my hands enclose around the folded cardboard, she slips through the slight gap I make.
I spin around with no idea how she managed to do that so easily and she grins over her shoulder at me as she moves through my house like…well, like a stray cat that’s decided to stick around and see if the food is good. Only I agreed to this… her… in my house. “How did you—”
“I have brothers. Six of them.” Her soft smile tells me she holds a great deal of affection for them. “All older. They used to take turns at getting in my way. I’ve had plenty of practice at giving them the slip. You’ll have to try much harder than that.”
“Interesting.” Growing up with my brothers was all roughhousing and name-calling and general fuckery. Well, the younger years were like that anyway, before I had to pull the oldest card and take responsibility for them. I can’t imagine it wasn’t the same for her. I pull one of the recyclable coffee cups free and take a sip. It’s actually not terrible.
“Where do you want me to set up?” she asks, drawing her laptop bag in front of her and unzipping it. “We have a lot of ground to cover today.”
“You still haven’t told me what your plan is.” I lead the way to the kitchen and indicate a spot at the counter. “You can set up there.”
“Thanks.” She takes her laptop out and opens it on the marble. Then reaches for the other coffee I put on the counter while she waits for it to boot up. “I thought since you were so adamant about what you didn’t want that we would take the day to work out what you do want.”
What I want… what I want… other than to strip her out of that demure dress… “Pretty sure being left alone is out of the equation.”
“Unfortunately, there is no getting rid of me now.”
Yeah, we’ll see about that.
Her nose crinkles and she inhales. Her stomach makes a racket as she takes a seat. “What is that heavenly smell, by the way?”
“That’s breakfast.” I slide the plate between us, more to me than to her.
Her eyes widen at the stack with the smiley face on top. “That’s cute.”
Yeah, it was stupid adding the emoji. She’s probably going to take it the wrong way, like I’m trying to make peace with her. I’m not. Am I? Is that why I went to so much effort?
Nah, the smile and eyes on our banana pancakes is tradition. That Riot didn’t bitch about the fact he didn’t get one is stranger than me drawing one.
“You cooked that?” Her emerald orbs study me with a weird amount of interest.
“I cook,” I grumble uncomfortably. There’s no way I’m sharing them with her now. I pick out cutlery from the drawer below me. Stab and saw at the stack like it’s the latest victim on one of those shows about psychopaths. Shove an eight-layer triangle between my teeth and… moan. “Oh, hell yeah.”
“That good?” she whispers.
“Better.” I draw my lip into my mouth with my teeth, let it go when I realize how enthralled she is with the movement. “Too bad you were late, or I’d share.”
“It was one minute.” She turns her attention to the laptop screen. “And I bought you coffee.”
“Shit coffee.”
“It’s the best coffee in the city,” she retorts.
“You have shitty taste,” I clap back.
I swear I hear her say, I must have as she picks up her phone. Concentrating on the screen, she holds it up and the little light on the camera goes off.
“Did you take a photo of me?”
“I did.” She taps away on the device. “Those pancakes are adorable, and we need to start working on your social media channels. Showing you in a personable light. Most of the things online are from the media or fans who catch you out in public. And since you haven’t been out in public…” She blinks. Turns her attention back to her laptop and moves her finger over the mouse pad. Her lips move as she talks silently to herself. “Other than this week, you haven’t been out in public since you were sentenced?”
I stuff another bite into my mouth. I’ve left the house twice since my return home. Once to see my parole officer and there was one night in the first week where I couldn’t sleep and ended up sitting outside Ro’s until the sun came up. But she doesn’t need to know that. “You tell me. You have all the information at your fingertips.”
“I’m trying to get to know you a little, so that I can work out the best way to showcase your good qualities. I’m sure you have some.” She steeples her fingers under her chin. Eyeballs the scoop of cream and chocolate on my fork. Frowns. “Why are you so cagey?”
“Why were you so scared of me the night we met?”
“What?” Her mouth pulls down in the corners.
The fuck I asked that? “You were scared of me.”
“I wasn’t.” She snaps her lips together and refuses to look at me. “Can we please concentrate on the current task?”
“You were.” I shrug like I don’t give a damn, even though my hackles are up at the memory. “Was it because I’d just been released?”
“Let’s get one thing straight.” She leans forward until her chest touches the top of her screen. “You’re not scary. And we’re not here to talk about my personal life. We’re here to work on your public persona.”
“You weren’t scared of me?” I jab the fork in her direction. Because I could have sworn… If not, then what was that freaked-out look on her face about before she asked me to let her go?
“I’m not scared of you. Not then. Not now. I can’t say you’re a pleasure to be around, but you already know that, and I’m fairly certain you cultivate that opinion, don’t you?”
“You think I want people to hate me?”
“I think you want them not to like you,” she challenges me. “Or at least I think you want me not to like you, which is fine, because I don’t. But it isn’t necessary for us to work together. You need me to help you appeal to Hollywood again.”
“And you need me to appease Bernadette Knight.” I shovel the last mouthful into my gob. “She was going to fire your ass, wasn’t she?”
“But she didn’t,” she says.
“There’s still time.” I smirk.
Summer pales.
She knows she’s screwed if I don’t comply. And there’s nothing I like the idea of better than watching her squirm.
I rinse the dishes and pop them in the dishwasher. We have a cleaning service that comes through a couple of times a week, but in between someone has to keep my brothers’ messes from becoming unreasonable. It’s a habit I haven’t been able to shake.
I wipe down the counter space before drying my hands on a kitchen towel. “Come on, we’re going to work out.”
“Work. Out?” Her nose turns up and the way she says the words, with a full break between them, makes it sound like the concept is totally foreign to her. Until she adds, “You… work… out?”
“What do you think I do with my time?”
“So far…?” She tries to hide her insolent smile behind her screen.
“Come on then, little girl, give me your opinion.”
“I would really appreciate it if you would stop calling me that,” she says politely. Oh, but her eyes flash with anger.
“I’m aware.” Getting her peeved is the temptation. “Out with it.”
“Brooding.”
“And you don’t think I can do that while lifting weights?” I snag an apple from the wooden boat shaped bowl Riot keeps stocked on the counter and polish it on my shirt before biting into the crisp flesh.
“That’s not…” She glances around my kitchen like she’s searching for something. “I mean… of course you can. I just—”
“Get your ass up, woman,” I bark as I toss the core in the trash and march out of the kitchen. “We’re only getting started. Unless…”
“Unless what?” She clips the lid of her laptop closed as she stands.
A smile takes over my face. She might have made it into the house, but she’s going to have to show me more if she wants me to help her do her job. “Unless you’d prefer I fire you.”