Your Fierce Love (The Bennett Family 7)

I’m about to leave the set to head to the hotel when Quentin catches up to me.

“Clara! Have you seen the ratings?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say proudly. “We ticked up nicely.”

“Have you seen the jump S&S had?”

Oh snap. I know what’s coming. S&S is a show on a rival network, and they’ve been featured on, wait for it—

“Our Picks featured them the week before. Talked again to Shepperd. All he wants is a rumor. He can work with that on We See You. In exchange, he’ll shoo us in on Our Picks. He’s hoping on some dirt on Sebastian Bennett—cheating would be best—but dirt on any of them will do.”

I rub my hands down my face, itching to curl my hands around his thick neck, give him a good shake.

Quentin is a bully, and if there is one thing I know, it’s that bullies only pull back when they feel the other party is more powerful. They pounce on the weak. Obviously though, since he’s my boss, I can’t give him a piece of my mind, but I can make my values clear.

“Quentin, you’re barking up the wrong tree. Stop with this madness. This is not who I am. I don’t sell people out for ratings, and I never will. Frankly, I’m not comfortable with—”

“Don’t care what you’re comfortable with. All I care about is ratings. You should too, if you know what’s good for you.”

One of the cameramen walks up to him, asking about a take, and I leave, wondering if owning an apartment really is worth having this imbecile breathe down my neck every day.

I trudge away to the hotel, feeling like I’m sleepwalking. This is the second day on the L.A. set, but I haven’t had time to sleep in, and the night I spent awake with Blake is catching up to me.

My hotel room is very small and only contains the basics, but I spend such a short time inside that it doesn’t bother me. I discard my clothes, hop in the shower, then crawl into bed, all in less than ten minutes. Only when my head hits the pillow do I register something. I bolt upright in bed, turning on the light. My eyes zero in on the package lying on the small table next to the door.

That’s when I remember that one of the assistants told me I’d received a package today and the receptionist brought it to my room. I hadn’t been paying attention because I was focusing on an e-mail, and then I forgot altogether. Though I desperately need the sleep, there’s no way I’ll wait until tomorrow to open it.

I love receiving things, always feel like a kid on Christmas morning, so I venture out of the bed, shuddering. I’m naked, and it’s chilly, so I take the package back to bed. There’s no information as to who sent it, but that doesn’t dampen my excitement in the slightest. I unpack with as much euphoria as Will attacked his presents on his birthday. Inside I discover a... gadget? Something electronic for sure. I pick up the accompanying handbook and my face cracks into a grin. An anti-sleep system for my car.

Blake sent this. I can barely resist texting him, but it’s late and he could be asleep. I’ll call tomorrow. I can’t believe he’s so sweet. His gesture warms me up, filling me with a fuzzy feeling. Aaaah, what’s this man doing to me?

I startle when my ringtone fills the room, then make a grab for my phone. The one and only Blake Bennett is calling. I answer immediately.

“Hey! I was just thinking about you.”

“Great minds think alike.” There’s background noise on his end, so he’s working, as I expected.

“Thank you for the alarm.”

“For a safe trip back home. Promise you’ll use it.”

“Of course. I wish you were here,” I say in a small voice, hoping it doesn’t come across as needy. I have no idea what the rules are for “no labels”. Then I break into a long yawn. “I need to sleep, I’m still exhausted.”

“Oh, sweetness, you wouldn’t be getting much sleep if I were there.”

“Really? And why is that?”

“I couldn’t keep my hands and mouth off you.”

“You did a pretty good job not touching me two nights ago.”

“Yeah, I was being a gentleman, and I used all my dose of gentlemanly that night.”

Another yawn takes me by surprise, but I stifle it, not quite ready to say good night. I love talking to him. It doesn’t hurt that his voice is pure sexiness. I hadn’t realized that until now, possibly because when we’re in the same room, I’m too busy drinking in his appearance to pay special attention to his voice. I really need to work on my distributive attention.

“Are you sore?” His voice is lower and huskier now. So damn sexy.

“A bit but in a good way. In a way that makes me want more.”