Your Fierce Love (The Bennett Family 7)

We climax as one, a tangle of messy and sweaty limbs, our cries mingling together, her fingers tugging hard at my hair, my nails digging in her thigh. After regaining my composure, I sit up. Clara pushes herself on her elbows, and we both look at the state of the bed. The sheets are completely torn out of their corners. I can’t remember who ended up pulling them out altogether. It might have been her. It might have been me. We might have done this together.

She laughs. “We’re such a mess.”

I kiss her forehead. “We’re fierce.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Clara

Quentin: In my office. Now.

I leap from my chair, staring at the words on my phone. Not a good omen, and not what I expected. I just received the confirmation that the stars of our show will be on a famous late-night talk show, and I’m damn proud of that. It took a lot of hard work to obtain that, but it will give us a big boost. Since I just forwarded the e-mail to Quentin, I was expecting praise, and this smells fishy.

When I enter Quentin’s office, his face is set in grim lines. The man usually looks like he has a stick up his butt, but today that stick must be extra-long and thick.

“What’s the matter, boss? Did you read my e-mail about the talk show?”

He nods, gesturing me to sit in the chair opposite him, which I do, the back of my neck prickling with unease.

“I remember you telling me you don’t know the Bennett family well.” He turns his computer monitor toward me, and my entire body goes cold. It’s a celebrity gossip website featuring photos from last Saturday’s Bennett show. I appear on a number of those, laughing with Blake, talking to Logan or Ava. One in which Blake is clearly kissing me. My mind begins to spin. How could I have been so careless? I knew there was press there.

Then I mentally slap myself. Why should I be hiding? I didn’t do anything wrong.

“You lied.”

Deep breath, shoulders straight. “It’s my private life. I don’t have to lay it out for you.”

“Damn right you do if I ask you to.” Quentin is a short, thick man, and behind his desk, he looks even shorter and thicker.

“As long as my private life doesn’t interfere with my work—”

“Spare me the bullshit. I asked you for dirt on the family, and you lied to my face, telling me you’re not close to them.”

“I also told you I don’t sell people out for ratings. You asked me to betray the trust of people I care for. That’s not part of my job description. Or yours.”

“I’ve been at this job longer than you, girl. Everyone does what they can to get forward, including stepping on bodies.”

“Not how I operate. And Nate got at the very top without trashing anyone.”

“Saint Nate.” He scoffs. “Please. If I hear anyone else in this goddamn network singing his praises, I will throw up.”

“What is the point of this? I’m doing my job very well, and you know that.” Another deep breath. I can’t lose my shit, no matter how much I want to.

“Guess what? Very well isn’t enough.”

“I got us on the late-night show. That is a million times more important.”

“I decide what’s important, not you. And when I ask you to cooperate, you cooperate.”

“You consider backstabbing cooperation?”

“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear enough. If you’re not willing to cooperate, I will let you go.”

“You will let me go,” I repeat blankly.

“Yes, and I’ll make sure you don’t get another job in this network, no matter how many phone calls Saint Nate makes for you.”

“I see.” Well, that makes my path very clear.