Rendezvous (Renegades 5)

Jillian crossed her arms. Her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. “You’ve certainly earned that by talking back to me.”

Brooke’s emotions spiked past anger. Now she was livid. She took two steps toward Jillian before she forced her feet to stop. Before she forced self-restraint to kick in. “I’ve earned nothing but respect,” she told Jillian in a low tone dripping with finality. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked and more. I’ve gone above and beyond to be the best assistant you could possibly want.”

“You’re the worst kind of assistant—the untrustworthy kind.”

“And you’re the worst kind of employer—the narcissist. And let me tell you exactly what’s going to happen, Jillian. I’m going straight to Keaton, and I’m going to tell him everything. I’m going to tell him how you’ve treated me. I’m going to tell him what you’ve accused him of and exactly how you see him—as little more than a gigolo.”

“Ha.” Jillian huffed a disgusted laugh. “As if I care what he—”

“You should care, because everyone in the industry loves Keaton, and everyone in the industry hates you. Keaton is on every studio’s list of the most desirable stunt fighters. There are a lot of beautiful actresses, Jillian, but there’s only one Keaton Holt. So when a studio has to choose between you and Keaton because he refuses to work with you, who do you think they’ll pick?”

Brooke was shaking with fury. But she was also bluffing—big-time. She had no control over Keaton. Nor would she ever tell Keaton those hurtful things. And she knew studios couldn’t care less about the bullshit that went on between actors. Brooke was just hoping Jillian was insecure enough to believe it.

Her eyes narrowed; her jaw tightened. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would, and I will.”

“I’ll mak

e sure you never work in this industry again.”

“You’re already going to do that,” Brooke said, “so I’ve got nothing to lose.”

Jillian fell quiet. Her jaw pulsed. “What do you want?”

I want you out of my life. I want the last year erased from my mind and heart. I want to forget I ever met you.

Brooke felt like she was going to shatter. She drew a slow breath and reached deep for the courage to make her final demand. “I want a letter. And I want that letter to tell ‘To whom it may concern’ that my employment with you is solid. I want that letter to say you have absolutely no intention of letting me go within the next year.”

Jillian laughed, the sound condescending and nasty. “Never.”

Brooke turned on her heel and took two steps toward the door.

“Wait,” Jillian said.

But Brooke didn’t wait. She was done taking orders from Jillian.

She had her hand on the handle of the door when Jillian said, “Fine, you can have the letter.”

Brooke paused, but she didn’t turn around, waiting for the other shoe.

“But you’ll talk to Keaton first,” Jillian added.

Brooke shook her head and pulled the door open.

“Fine,” Jillian said, her voice rising with urgency and anger. “But here’s my final deal. I’ll give you the letter. Then you’ll sign another releasing me from responsibility for your salary for this fictitious year. And all this will stay between us. If you don’t go to Keaton tonight before you leave, or if you tell him you leaving was my fault, you’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”

Brooke squeezed her eyes closed—in both relief and misery. Justin was safe, but Keaton would be hurt. She fought to shove her own loss aside, gather her frayed composure and turned.

And she told Jillian, “You’ll write, print and sign the letter—right now.”

10

Keaton stared at the monitor above the bar in his hotel’s lounge, but he wasn’t watching the game. His mind kept twisting and spinning all the possible reasons Brooke hadn’t texted or called him back yet. His fingers wound around his phone in a death grip so he’d feel it vibrate in case he couldn’t hear it ring above the noise around him.

Still, he kept checking the screen.

Still, no contact from Brooke.