Page 24 of PR Stunt

The thought of hot water wrapping around me pulls me upstairs almost instinctively. I strip down, toss my clothes into the hamper, and then flick on the bathroom lights. The soaking tub waits, the blinds are drawn, and a half-burned candle still smelling like vanilla and tobacco sits off to the side. I light a few more and set them on the caddy before turning on the faucet. Bubbles. Epsom salt. As the tub fills, I exhale, leaning further into the warm, tipsy calm. When I lower myself into the heat, my shoulders drop as my muscles loosen and my mind begins to quiet. I close my eyes and rest my head against the edge of the tub.

Then my phone dings. This late?

I crack one eye open. It’s sitting on the floor beside the bath mat.

Peering down, I reach for it, water and bubbles slipping down my arm.

Unknown Number

If you’re still awake, you’re either thinking about me or regretting those martinis. Which is it?

What the hell? I swear, if Juno lost her phone again and I have to change my number, I will… Who would even say that? As I slouch lower in the tub, my phone dings again.

Unknown Number

If I had to guess, I’d say definitely thinking about me.

I jolt upright. There’s only one deranged person who would text me with that kind of cockiness.

Me

I’d say “who is this?” but you’re the only person whose ego is bigger than your need for attention.

Setting my phone down on the bath caddy, I relax back into the water, making a mental note to scold Anna in the morning for not giving me a heads-up before handing Grayson my number.

My phone dings again.

Unknown Number

That’s not very nice. And here I was, thinking we were a couple.

Eyes rolling, I fire off a reply.

Me:

You’re ruining my bath. Go away.

Unknown Number

A bath and thinking of me? Kinky.

My jaw drops slightly. This man has no boundaries.

Me

You must really be lonely if your only option for late-night texts is your fake girlfriend. What, did all your “you up?” texts get left on read? Poor Grayson.

I smile at myself with that response.

Unknown Number

I saved the best for last.

My eyes widen at that response. The audacity. I’m not responding. The contract doesn’t say I have to engage with him unless it’s for work, and right now, he’s sucking away my martini buzz. I set my phone back down on the bath mat and lean my head against the edge of the tub, determined to salvage what’s left of the moment.

The silence stretches, warm water lapping softly around me as my mind drifts where I wish it wouldn’t. His smirk. The way he signed the contract without reading it. The way he always seems two steps ahead.

Eventually, the water cools from hot to lukewarm and the spell breaks. With a sigh, I step out and grab a rolled towel from the basket. Drying off, I slip into my robe hanging on the hook and walk toward my vanity.